I Wear Red for My Grandfathers

 My second experience losing a grandparent to heart disease was less than a year after the first. It was my maternal grandfather, Donald Hicks. We called him Pa, like Opie Taylor called Andy. When I think of Pa, I think of gardening, five-dollar bills, parched peanuts, softball games, and a forked twig on a smokehouse.

My mom's dad, Bro. Donald Hicks

My mom’s parents lived in Grove Hill, about 15 minutes away, so Jared and I didn’t spend as much time there as we did our other grandmothers who lived a rock’s throw away. In hindsight, I see that my maternal grandmother, Mema (Mee-maw), and I have a lot of similarities. She was a teacher, and we always did cool things at when we were there. Most of them involved learning. She was into herbs and healthy eating, too. It seems like Pa was always working in his garden. He was retired from ALDOT, but he was also a pastor. I was a small child when he was still preaching, but I’ve heard numerous people say that he could quote more scripture than anyone they’ve ever known. In his younger years, he was an award-winning fiddler.

Mema and Pa always came to visit us on our birthdays. If it wasn’t your birthday, Pa still gave you a five-dollar bill. I always thought that was cool. He also parched the most delicious peanuts. I don’t know if I’ve had any since he died. Pa had a smokehouse in his backyard. He kept it closed with a small twig that was forked on the end. I can still picture it. After he died and my grandmother moved to an assisted living facility, my brother moved into their house. He and I looked all over for that twig, but we never found it. It would be neat to have. Pa came to most of my home softball games. He would come walking up wearing a trucker hat and carrying a lawn chair. I was always happy to see him.

One Friday afternoon of my freshman year in college, I had just come home for the weekend. We were called to the ER in Grove Hill because Pa was found slumped over in his carport. I think he had already passed when the ambulance arrived. He had suffered a massive heart attack. Pa requested a small service. We had a visitation and graveside service, where we sang Amazing Grace. Pa was a simple man. He would have liked it.

My dad's dad, Scott Clemens

I never had a chance to meet my paternal grandfather. His name was Scott Clemens. He was born in Scottsboro, AL, in 1931, but he lived most of his life in Fairhope. In school, he was the president of the 4H Club, and voted “Most Witty.” That explains a lot! Anyone who knows my dad knows that that apple didn’t fall far from the tree, and I often have irresistible urges to “pull people’s legs.”

After high school, he joined the US Navy and fought on an aircraft carrier during the Korean War. He was a member of the National Guard when he passed. He was athletic, played softball, and coached baseball for his kids. He worked as the superintendent over the natural gas department for the City of Fairhope.

He died in 1991 at the age of 59 from an aortic aneurysm. This is not considered heart disease, but vascular disease. Sometimes the two are lumped together. He smoked and drank for most of his adult life, and the AHA lists those as factors contributing to aortic aneurysms. See the link attached for more information.

Even though no one in my immediate family had the privilege of meeting him, we did get to meet my dad’s youngest brother when I was in college. His name is also Scott, and we are close to him and his wonderful family. They have been and continue to be such blessings to us. Scott is closer to my age than he is my dad’s, and we share a common love of fitness. Scott’s mother, who was married to my grandfather, identified many similarities in my dad and “the Scotts.” They obviously look alike, and she said they have the same mannerisms. My dad writes in all caps, and she said Scott did, too. Genes are strong. Having said that, since 3 of my grandparents died of heart-related conditions, I want to do all I can to keep my heart as healthy as possible. I wear red for my grandfathers, Donald (Pa) and Scott.

L-R: My uncle Scott Clemens, me, my dad

 Aortic Aneurysm Information from the American Heart Association 

I Wear Red for My Friend Terry

 With the exception of my grandmother, the most shocking loss to a heart attack is that of my friend, Terry. It is also the most recent. It is for this reason that I will not post pictures of him because I do not want to cause a grief wave for his family. 

I have known Terry and his family all my life, but it wasn't until the last five years or so that we joined the church where he served as chairman of deacons and became close. His daughter is also one of my best friends. Until my two-ish year church hiatus, I saw him at least once a week, sometimes twice. My husband, Jason, doesn't go to church, but he met Terry at a men's wild game supper once. They became friends, and we are both so thankful. Jason is very peculiar and anti-social, but he always welcomed Terry's texts and calls. We were both shocked and devastated when we learned that he had passed. 

Terry was special. He was wise and witty. The first image in this article is the end of a witty quote of his. It's appropriate, of course, but it's not "PC," either. It is, however, hilarious. He would randomly call or text to see how things were going and to wish me a good day. He became someone I trusted, confided in, and consulted for advice. He's been gone about six months or so, and I still find myself wishing I could call him and tell him something, vent to him, ask for his advice, and ask him to pray for me. He was also one in a handful of people I never wanted to disappoint. For example, if I was about to post something questionable, I would ask myself, "what would Terry think if he saw that?" That was all it took. 

During the month before he passed, his daughter-in-law and I worked an event together. He was our courier, so-to-speak, and would take event materials back and forth between us. He and I lived close by, and he worked with his son who is married to this particular lady. I would meet him on my way to work and on his way to take his grandsons to school. We met at the bank in town, and I would joke with him that the nosy folks in town were going to start rumors about us, lol. I usually don't keep texts in my phone long, but I'm so thankful I kept his longer than usual because I still have them. Some of them are our last words to speak to one another. 

My immediate family has always made sure that the last thing we say is "I love you." I've always taken it seriously, but even more so after my brother's sudden, tragic death. Terry and I didn't tell each other that, but I say this so families will understand the importance. Terry and I had no idea that would be the last time we would see each other this side of Heaven. We left with a smile and a "have a good day." 

I can't imagine how hard life is for his family without him. He was my friend, not my father, grandfather, or husband, and I know how much I miss him. Terry was an active, hardworking man. I don't know about his eating and exercise habits, but he didn't drink or smoke. Regardless, a heart attack stole him from those who love him. I wear red for my friend Terry. 

I Wear Red for My Nanny, Joan Hudson Daniels

 

My first loss to heart disease was my paternal grandmother, Joan Hudson Daniels. My brother and I called her “Nanny.” She was a single parent to her only child, which is my dad. She loved the three of us more than anything. During the time I knew her, she worked as a seamstress. She lived across the road from us with her mother. We called her, Gaugy. Since we lived so close, we spent a lot of time with them. We stayed there during the summers and after school, and whenever we wanted to go visit and spend the night.

Some of the things I remember most about my childhood there are watching cartoons, shelling peas, playing dominos, eating the most delicious caramel cake (and other kinds) ever baked, riding bikes, playing with Hot Wheels and paper dolls, going to cemeteries, watching Saved By the Bell, The Brady Bunch, and CMT, going in for a huge lunch spread when Scotch’s whistle blew and Daddy came home, and much more. It was a wonderful life, and the only thing I would do differently is take Nanny and Gaugy to the Fountain of Youth.

During my 5^th grade year, Gaugy got cancer and moved to Grove Hill to live with my great aunt. She died there a few months later right after Christmas. By this time, Nanny had bought a house two doors down from us in the other direction. Although we missed Gaugy very much, Jared and I had fun exploring this new house and yard. Nanny also got a Sheltie dog named Daisy. She was a sweet dog. By this time, we were getting older and didn’t play as much, but we still spent a lot of time at Nanny’s. She cooked a delicious lunch every Sunday. She loved all holidays.

Nanny made the most beautiful Easter eggs I have ever seen. They had the deepest colors. I wish I had learned how she did it. We always had egg hunts. She bought Jared and me fancy wooden Easter baskets when we were kids. Mine has a rabbit and his has a duck. I still have them, and they are all the more special now that he is in Heaven with her.

Christmas was her time to shine, though. Nanny and Gaugy were excellent cooks. Nanny made the best fudge, divinity, and chocolate pie I have ever eaten. She had a million lights on her medium-sized Christmas tree. We celebrated Christmas Eve at her house every year after Gaugy died, and she spoiled us all. During the holidays of 1999, she had our gifts wrapped and placed under the tree. Her Christmas goodies, including the fudge and divinity, which lived up to its name, were in the kitchen.

December 18^th was a Saturday that year. I spent most of the day at a friend’s house a few miles away. I was a senior in high school. I got home, and only my mom was there, which was unusual. She said that my dad and Jared had taken Nanny to the hospital because they thought she was having a heart attack. I understood the seriousness of the matter, but it never occurred to me that we might be coming home without her. I got to the hospital and Daddy and Jared were there. I don’t remember all the details, but I caught a glimpse of her by mistake. She looked to be sleeping, but was purple. Daddy said that she was gone. When they arrived, the staff got her situated, and he and Jared were going to complete the paperwork. She gasped and they saw her take her last breath. I think he said they worked on her for an hour.

I drove my car to the hospital, but I rode home in Nanny’s car with Jared and Daddy. Her purse was there. Nanny had a lot of good friends. We had cell phones at this time, but they were not used as they are now. I got to her house and called her best friends to tell them. I remember not believing what I was saying. We went back to my house, and people were there for days. I would pick up the phone to call her and catch myself almost walking to her house. She was a huge part of our lives, and she was gone in an instant.

She died exactly one week before Christmas. On Christmas Eve, we went to her house as usual. It was very sad. We opened our gifts from her and ate the goodies she had prepared. The next morning, her sister made us a breakfast dish. Her other sister gave us a poem called “My First Christmas In Heaven.” Those are the main things I remember about that Christmas.

 I know it was especially hard on my dad, but he handled it like a champ. The second semester of senior year flies by. Mine did, and it kept me busy, but it was sad that she wasn’t there for softball, prom, and graduation. For my softball tournaments, she would fry chicken and make other really good food for us to take. Looking back, I wish I had appreciated that more.

She was “extra,” and people tell me that I am the same way. If she were still here, I know that she would be my best friend. She would be my #1 supporter in my extra curriculars. If I ever needed someone to do something with, I know it would be her. She would love my husband, Jason, and I know they would embarrass me by laughing at inappropriate things and thinking it was funny that I was embarrassed, lol.

Nanny was very active and not overweight, but she didn’t exercise or eat right. She also smoked a lot and used ladles of grease to season her food. It was sooo good, though. I was a kid during the time I knew her, so I really don’t know if she went to the doctor regularly and kept a check on her numbers. I do know, however, that her diet, smoking, and lack of exercise contributed to her heart attack.

Nanny when she danced competitively 

I don’t have children or grandchildren like she did, but I have family, friends, animals, and former students that I love very much. There are things I want to do and people and animals I want to help before I am gone. God may have plans for a truck to hit me tomorrow, but at least I will have a healthy heart, and I will have done all I can to have taken care of my body so I can use it for myself and for others.  

Times were different when my grandmother was coming up. More people smoked and less was known about the dangers of it. More people cooked with grease, too. If she had it to do over again, I am confident that she would choose to be heart healthy, not for herself, but for us. Since she is not here to do it, I am doing it for her. I wear red for my Nanny, Joan Hudson Daniels 9/15/35-12/18/99

How Heart Disease Stole My Loved Ones and Changed My Life

 If one of your parents had to have heart disease, which would it be? What a horrible question! When you look at statistics from the American Heart Association, though, 48% of American adults have cardiovascular disease. It is the number one cause of death in the US, and stroke takes fifth place. While I am still fortunate enough to have both parents, I can’t say the same about my grandparents. Before the end of my first semester in college, three of my grandparents had succumbed to heart attacks. When I saw this family pattern and learned ways to “get heart healthy,” it was a no-brainer for me.

Although I have always been an athlete, staying fit was no longer something to do for fun, it was necessary for survival. I took a PE class every semester in college (which also helped my GPA, lol), and I also took advantage of the free exercise classes at the student rec center. Before graduating from college, I met my now-husband, who is a US Marine and former competitive body builder. We started running and training together, and I have been hooked ever since. He also started me on the path of healthy eating, and I self-taught (via reading) from there. I cannot imagine life out of shape or out of the gym.

Every February, the American Heart Association uses the month to raise funds and awareness for “Heart Month.” It is a special cause to me because I want to tell people how heart disease stole my grandparents from my family, and how one can possibly prolong their lives by “getting heart healthy.” Throughout the month, I will blog about each of my grandparents and a special friend who fell victim to this number one killer. 

Reference Article above ^^^

American Heart Association

Wear Red Day

Grieving Through The Holidays

My brother died in an automobile accident 2 days before my 33^rd birthday on October 20, 2014. He was 29. My family is traditional, particularly around the holidays, and I remember literally being fearful as Thanksgiving and Christmas approached. I was scared of how sad we would be during the holidays without him. Of course, we found peace and comfort in knowing that he celebrates those holidays in Heaven now, but with just 3 and a half years between us, I didn’t remember a holiday without him.

Top: Jared and me at Christmas one year

Bottom: Jared on his 27th birthday with Mama's famous red velvet cake

On Thanksgiving as a child, I remember waking up to the scent of my parents’ amazing food cooking. The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade would be on the TV, and we would eventually make our way outside to play football with my dad and the neighborhood kids. Before my Nanny* and Gaugy** passed, we would eat lunch as an extended family at their house. We lived next door. After their passing, we would eat at home. My mom’s parents lived in Grove Hill, and we would have Thanksgiving dinner with them.

At Christmas, we had Christmas Eve at Nanny & Gaugy’s until Gaugy died. Then we had Christmas Eve at Nanny’s. They pretty much lived next door, and Nanny moved 2 doors down after Gaugy died, so we were right there together. Jared and I had trails to each of the houses from our house. Santa came to see us on Christmas morning. Jared and I would usually camp out in one or the other’s room on Christmas Eve night and watch A Christmas Story a thousand times until it was time to get up. Then, we waited on Daddy to set up the humungous camcorder so he could record us opening our presents. It seemed like it took him forever to do that because we were so excited!

Jared, Mama, and Mozart, our childhood pet

We spent the mornings enjoying our gifts, and had lunch in Fulton. Sometimes it varied, but we usually had dinner at my mom’s parents’ in Grove Hill. After our grandparents passed away and we became adults, we’ve not changed it much. I still eat Thanksgiving lunch with my parents. We do a little something on Christmas Eve, and have a big Christmas breakfast, followed by opening gifts. We go to my in-laws’ for Christmas lunch.

Jared and his step-daughter, Shelby, at Christmas breakfast at our parents'

On December 18, 1999, I was a senior in high school. It was a Saturday, and exactly a week before Christmas. I had been at my friends’ house, and Jared and Daddy were gone when I got home. My mom said they had taken Nanny to the ER. When I got there, she had already died of a massive heart attack. That was the first big loss I had experienced. I was very close to Gaugy, too, but she was about 80 and had cancer. Nanny was in her mid-sixties and full of life. This was an absolute shock. Nanny loved Christmas. She had done a lot of Christmas baking, and had already made her perfect, delicious fudge, divinity, and other goodies for us. She had also wrapped our gifts and put them under her tree. I remember calling her friends from her phone and telling them that she had died. On Christmas Eve that year, we went to her house and ate her goodies and opened our gifts from her. It was very sad. Her sister, our Aunt Barb, made Christmas breakfast for us that year. Those are the things I remember the most. I still have the gift tags where she wrote “To Steph, From Nanny.”

The Charlie Brown tree Jared and I hunted and he cut for my classroom

Fast forward to 2014. In an effort to prepare myself for the upcoming holidays, I reached out to my friend, former baby-sitter, and fellow griever, Jessica. Jessica lost two husbands tragically. Her words helped me the most. I’m paraphrasing, but she said something along the lines of “you saw him every day, so it will not be as bad as you think it will. It will be really hard on the people who only saw him on Thanksgiving and Christmas. You’re grieving every day.” Those words and prayers I’m not even aware that people prayed got me through. She was right. I know he wants us to have happy holidays. We got dozens of texts, calls, and Facebook messages, and still do. It’s amazing to me that people still think of and pray for us even 6 years later.

Jared and his family at our parents' on Christmas morning

Probably the hardest thing for me was not having a gift for him under the tree. In addition to his nice gift(s), I always bought him a goofy pair of boxers. For some reason, not having him here to buy those for really made me sad. Jason had the idea to use the money allotted for Jared’s gifts to buy gifts for others. I also have a special tree for him in my room. I developed a love for angel wings when he died, and people have given me so many. I use them to decorate the tree. They have also given me other things like black lab ornaments like his dog, Jake, and a bike ornament because we always rode bikes as kids. I put the special gifts under this tree. I have done this ever since, and it’s something I really look forward to. I use it as an opportunity to bless others, as well as to keep his memory alive. I do this on his birthday, death anniversary, Christmas, and any time I have an opportunity. I know he would like that.

Two little girls who were very special to Jared receiving gifts in his memory

My friend Stacy lost her mom this year, my friend Allison lost her dad, and my unofficial child, Christin, lost her brother. Their grief is what made me feel led to write this. It’s also for every griever, particularly those who are experiencing what I call their “year of firsts.” My loss is sibling loss. I know losses are different, but looking back, the things that helped me are prayer, asking my friends for prayer, talking to my friends, having a group of grieving friends to support me, and making good come from the loss. Make their favorite meals on their birthday and have a party with their friends. Make their gravesites beautiful. Give gifts and make donations to honor them. Know that they would want you to enjoy the holidays. Start a new tradition in their memory. Pray that God will lead you to these things- people, groups, causes- if you don’t know what to do.

Top: Jared's friends came to church on his birthday the first year after his death; the flowers are in his memory

Middle: We had a small ceremony at the cemetery on the one year anniversary of his death

Bottom: Random photo of his grave. We keep it nice and neat, and he has lots of visitors.

Most importantly, there are no celebrations in Hell. If you do not know where you are going to spend eternity, ask Jesus into your heart and start living for Him. As a Christian family, not only will we see Jared again, but we will see Jesus face to face, AND our relationship with Him has given us the strength and peace to continue living without my precious brother.

No matter who you are or who you lost, your loved one would want you to enjoy this holiday season. I don’t have all the answers, but I have learned and experienced a lot on my grief journey so far. If you don’t have anyone to talk to, I’m here. I also know a really good counselor. When you’re drowning in a grief wave about the holidays, remind yourself that your loved one wants you to be happy, and ask yourself how you can honor them this holiday season. I am praying for you! 

In memory of:

• Jared Daniels
• Mrs. Gayle Sollie
• Mr. Terry Raybon
• Gavin Pugh

In honor of some of the strongest ladies I know:

• Jessica Crocker
• Stacy Sollie
• Allison Harris
• Christin Pugh

*Nanny- my dad's mom

**Nanny's mom

How God Prepared Me For Grief

 

This time six years ago, I had no idea that my family’s normal life was about to change forever. My brother, Jared, and I have the best parents any two kids could ever wish to have. We are loved, have always had more than we needed, were raised in church, and provided with the best education money could buy in our area. We were taught to never go to bed mad, and to always make sure that the last thing we said to each other was “I love you.” I’ve never doubted my parents’ wisdom, but that has proved to have been among the best things they instilled in us.

To make a very long story short, God’s plan for my life has never been more clear. During college, I married a successful, older man, got a teaching job at a prestigious school, and had a great life in Mobile. After three years at that school, Jason accepted a promotion within his company, and moved to Orlando. I did not want to go. I had made so many friends in Mobile at my new church and school. Fortunately, our home sold just before the housing crisis of 2008, and I moved to be with Jason in Orlando at the end of the school year in 2009. In ample time, I requested that my teaching certificate be transferred to Florida. As I began my job search, I discovered that my certificate had not been transferred, and it was too late for me to have that done and teach that Fall. I was devastated. We weren’t going to starve, but I wanted to be in the classroom.

Jason moved to Orlando over a year before I did. During the time he was there, a lot of turnover among the directors of his company occurred and he was no longer happy. We decided to move back to Alabama, but this time, back to my hometown. We told my parents and a few friends who could network and help us find jobs. It turns out that my certificate not being transferred was a blessing. Within weeks, I was hired at a middle school. Jason was not far behind. We remodeled my grandmother’s house, where we still live.

I saw God’s plan at this time. Since Mobile is less than two hours from Fulton, my hometown, we would never have moved there (to Fulton). It took us being 500 miles away to move to Fulton. That answered my question of why God ever allowed us to move to Orlando. Things were great for years, then Jason’s company was selling out. He didn’t lose his job, but managers on his level were encouraged to find jobs just in case. The only comparable job he could find was six hours away in Bossier City, Louisiana. He moved there and bought a house as an investment.

During the time Jason was in Louisiana, I spent even more time with my family, but especially my brother. He would meet my dad and me for breakfast at the local café, spend the weekends at my parents’ house, cut my grass while I was at work, and visit me in the evenings, sometimes spending the night. During these times when it was just the two of us, we reminisced, had hours of heart to heart talks, and solved the world’s problems. He would message me early in the mornings and wish me a good day at school. We would see funny stuff on social media and “screen shot it” to each other. My brother’s choosing to spend time with me made me feel important and special. He was a cool guy, had lots of great friends, but he was choosing to spend time with me. That still makes me smile. I always worried about him, though, and my biggest fear was that he would die in an accident. And he did.

I saw God’s plan in action at this time, too. Although I didn’t want to be apart from Jason, I know that God gave that one-on-one time to Jared and me. If Jason had been in Fulton, Jared and I would not have had that last year together.

On Monday, October 20, 2014, I went to school, to an animal shelter task force meeting, then home to bed. About 10:00, I think, my mom woke me up beating on my door. She was screaming “Jared has been in a wreck and it’s bad!” Her best friend drove us to the hospital. I prayed the whole time. I didn’t know where the wreck was until we approached it. There were more emergency response vehicles than I have ever seen. His truck was upside down. I remember feeling sick. My dad called to see where we were. He sounded okay. When we stepped out of the vehicle, a lot of people I knew were there, including his wife and her parents. My dad looked calm, but he said “he’s gone, y’all.” My mom screamed, and I remember feeling sick and faint. I saw a truck with the tailgate down and tried to walk to it, but it seemed a mile away. An EMT and fireman caught me, and I knew the fireman. I remember asking him if Jared suffered and if anyone else was hurt. He told me that Jared didn’t die instantly, but he didn’t think he felt anything, and that it was a single car accident. He said he thought Jared knew who he was. He also said there were two ladies there singing hymns and praying when the first responders arrived. That was instant comfort. Jared is a Christian, and we know all the hymns. I was also glad he wasn’t alone. I later discovered that one of the ladies is the mother of one of my very special students. I now refer to Mrs. Pam and her friend as my “Angel Ladies.”As soon as I was able to function, I immediately realized that Jared is with Jesus. I told my dad, and he said “I know.” The next thing I realized is that life is too short to worry about the stupid, petty things I worry about. That was a game changer for me. I really don’t know what I would do if Jared were lost. I know that I will see him again.

Quite a few of our friends came to the hospital. I chose not to see him. They said he had a “trach.” I knew that would be traumatic for me. Jason had his phone off, so my friend called the Bossier police to go to his house. He called her, and she told him. He drove all night to come home.

It’s neat how God gives you strength. My mom is awesome, but she is not going to win any housekeeping awards. Gardening, cooking, sewing awards, quite possibly, but not housekeeping. I knew we would have a house full the next day, so I went to her house to tidy up a bit. Then I went home. Jason wasn’t there, of course, but my dachshunds, Jack, Bee, and Pearl were. I hugged and hugged them. I finally went to sleep. My phone rang. It was my hair dresser and friend. That was the beginning of a week of being cared for, nearly round the clock, by friends and family. It did not seem real. It seemed like we were having a gathering and waiting on him to get there. My mom’s best friend told me that I was not a hostess, that I needed to let them take care of us. Jason and I went and got the things out of his truck. I still have them in my car.

I’ve heard the first 6 months are the absolute worst, then then first year. I found that to be true. Christmas was especially hard, and not having a gift for him under the tree. Jason had a good idea. He suggested buying gifts for others in Jared’s memory. I have done that ever since for his birthday, Christmas, and death anniversary. It is very rewarding to me, it keeps his memory alive, and I hope it blesses the recipients. It also gives me something good to look forward to rather than being sad.

Jared had so many wonderful friends. Two of them in particular have stepped up to become treasured friends of mine. He would be so proud of them for that. I think he knew that he would die young. The morning after, a close friend of his called me and said that Jared told him to call me and tell me “this” if anything ever happened to him. It was some stuff that he wanted me to take care of. That was prophetic. It also made me feel important again.

Next week will be the sixth anniversary of his death. I still have grief waves. Sometimes I can talk about him, look at pictures, and listen to songs, and other times something very small can upset me for days. I guard myself, too. I know better than to watch home videos and hear his voice. That would do me in. It makes me feel guilty that I block triggers, but I know he would not want me to be sad. I can’t say enough about the other grievers who have been there for me. I also feel driven to be there for new grievers, particularly what I call “angel sisters.” I can’t bring him back, but I can try to make good come from this tragedy. I can keep his memory alive. I do my best to do both.

If you are a griever, grieve your own way. Aside from addiction and hurting yourself, do what you have to in order to survive. You will never “get over it.” Anyone who says so is foolish and has never experienced grief. There are no rights and wrongs. Don’t expect to be the same (as you were before). Your life has changed and will never be the same. It is now “before and after” your loss. Find comfort in trying to make good come from it. Remember that life is short and precious. Petty stuff doesn’t matter (I have to be reminded of this). Don’t go to bed mad. Make sure your family and friends know you love them. Make sure you know where you and your family and friends are going to spend eternity. I fall short every day. I get mad at people daily and sin, but I still love God and ask Him for forgiveness often.

I know many people have suffered much worse than we have. We know where Jared’s body and soul are. He is not missing or in Hell. He was not murdered, so we don’t have to be angry at a perpetrator. We were all on good terms. I am forever grateful to have no regrets. I am most grateful to have had the best brother and friend that God could have ever given me.

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye to hard.” -Winnie the Pooh

Needy or Greedy? Think Before You Give!

I’ve mentioned before that our parents raised us to help people, and not for a pat on the back or to be put on a pedestal. I love how Matthew 6:3 says “but when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.” In addition to having been taught to help people, we were also taught to say “thank you” and be appreciative. I know that not everyone is as fortunate to have parents like Jared and I do, but everyone around here knows how to say “please” and “thank you.” Technology makes it even easier. Whether it’s a kind word or $100, I always want people to know that I appreciate what they’ve done for me. Having said that, maybe you’ll understand why I feel strongly about this topic.

As school time draws near, we will probably see people and groups asking for donations for school supplies. I beg you to be cautious in doing so. I actually encourage you to donate to a trustworthy teacher rather than to a random drive or even hosting a random drive to donate to random people. As much as we would like to think that “needy” people are just oh so thankful for the good-hearted people out there, it has been my experience that they are not. They expect it and do not appreciate it. I’ve mentioned before that I taught school for 12 years, and until November of the 13^th. The first three years were in a prestigious Catholic high school, eight were in a public city school, and a year and a half were in a public county school. For the first 11 years, I would keep extra pencils and paper in my room in case a student needed it. My mom frequents Mobile and Birmingham, so she would buy cute sticky notes, pencils, decorations, etc. for my classroom. I enjoyed using them in class, and the students were always thankful. I run races, so I have a zillion t-shirts. Every now and then, I would bring the extras to school and let the kids have one each, first come, first served. Even though most of the kids weren’t needy, they were always appreciative. Many of them would get a shirt for their mom or a sibling. Teaching kids like that makes you want to do nice things for them. I left that school 99% because of a bad administrator, and 1% because my season as a teacher was coming to an end. Had I known about the culture of the county school down the road, however, I would have stayed. When I did this at the last school, most of the kids asked “why do you think we would want this” and I ended up bringing a lot of it home.

When I say the things I’m about to say, please understand that I am not overgeneralizing. Thank goodness there were some sweet kids and parents! I don’t believe in overgeneralizing, and I don’t want someone to assume things about me just because of my demographics, alma mater, favorite college team, etc. However, most (not all) of the students I taught at the last school had no interest in learning, were totally unappreciative of the things people did for them, and had no accountability for their own actions. Because of the poverty, every student received free food. You would find it in the garbage, on the floor in my classroom, smashed between the pages in textbooks, in the containers where markers were stored, on the floor in the cafeteria during lunch, etc. Also, the government forces the cafeteria workers to put the food on the plate even if the student doesn’t want it. I didn’t see wasted food. I saw tax dollars of hard-working Americans being wasted every day.

Before I knew about the entitlement and waste, I kept wooden pencils and extra paper in case a student forgot his/hers or ran out. On more than one occasion, students would break the wooden pencils I gave them in my face and say they wanted a mechanical pencil. On the first day of school my first year there as I was going over my very frugal list of supplies, one child told me that his mother said his teacher could buy all that if he needed it so bad(ly).

The second year, a group of which my parents is a part hosted a school supply drive. These sweet, hard working people went out and bought school supplies to donate to people they thought needed them and would appreciate them. I was coaching at the time, and we were at summer practice. One of the players was talking about wanting a new Michael Kors purse, a new hair style, and a new set of nails. Another girl on the team said “just go up to that 'group' and get your school stuff for free, then you can get all that stuff you want.” If my parents and their friends had been robbed at gunpoint, I wouldn’t have felt any differently. Those are all nice things, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting them. However, you don’t get to have those things if you can’t afford them. If you want them, you work for them. You don’t steal from truly needy people and from non-profit organizations so you can have the finer things in life.

In an effort to boost morale on the team, I would go to a very nice boutique in town and buy small gifts as door prizes. I would find them left on the table after practice. It was heartbreaking to me. I had gone out of my way, spent my hard-earned money, and they didn’t care enough or have enough respect and appreciation to even take them home. They just left them there for me to find. That team also deliberately ruined a fundraiser, and none of the parents volunteered or participated. My friends & I did it all. It could have been a huge success.

I see posts on Facebook about teachers not having enough money for their classrooms. I can’t speak for elementary teachers, but I always received about $400 annually. That was plenty for classroom supplies. If I ever spent my own money, it was on something extra I wanted to do. At the county school, we had to clean our own classrooms, and most of the students didn’t bring paper towels, tissues, and hand sanitizer as requested. I bought those things. The classroom didn’t come with some of the things I needed for janitorial purposes, and instructional money wasn’t approved to cover them, so I had to purchase them or do without. 

After my experiences as a teacher, there are some schools that will never see one cent of my money because the students are so unappreciative. There are others that I will donate to every time I’m asked. Also, after having seen how some parents and students have a hand out and take advantage of generous people and organizations, I will not host school supply drives or blindly give. I will make sure I know where my hard-earned money is going. I will give to a teacher I trust so he/she can responsibly make sure it is used by those who truly need it. Those who don’t truly need it are stealing from those who donated it and from those who do truly need it. I hope this didn’t leave you with the impression that I am a cold-hearted, stingy person, but I was absolutely disgusted by what I saw. I want to help those who need it. I want to defend them from those who don’t. Prior to my experience at this last school, I didn’t realize how much the system is worked. I hope this will also open eyes to that. Whether it’s school supplies, food drives, or whatever the case may be, make sure you as giving people are not being duped.

Also, the first week of school is exhausting for teachers. There is a local church who provides dinner for teachers’ families the first week of school. That is awesome! If I were a better cook, I would do that! A gift card to Pizza Hut is probably a better idea for me to give, though, lol. If you don’t already, please teach your kids to say please and thank you. Please teach them to write thank you notes. Please teach them thank you note etiquette for graduation, wedding showers, etc. It goes a long way and people remember it!