American pride

In honor of Memorial Day, I wanted to post about two very special veterans with whom I had the pleasure of visiting their World War II haunts last summer. Harry Mansfield, of Greenville, SC and Leslie Dail, of Magnolia, NC, have been friends since their time together in the army, and they proudly and bravely fought for our country from North Africa to Ardennes, only missing out on getting to Berlin. During our 10 day tour, these men regaled us (after our emphatic prodding!) with their tales of Generals George Patton and Omar Bradley, of falling asleep and waking up with inches of snow on top of them, of narrowly escaping death on several occasions, and of grieving for close friends who weren't so lucky. As Mr. Mansfield says, "We aren't heroes. We left them over there." Well, sirs, we all beg to differ. 


Both Mr. Mansfield and Mr. Dail entered the D-Day invasion on Utah Beach, and we had the honor of joining them on their first return, 60 years later. Below are excerpts from my Dad's travel journal of our tour group's experience remembering World War II with two veterans:

Assigned to the Ninth Infantry Division, 34th Artillery, Harry and Les had already fought their way across North Africa. They were involved in every campaign from Algeria to Morroco. "We even pulled guard duty for President Roosevelt and Winston Churchill when they came to Casablanca," Harry mused. "We never saw them, but we knew that they were there." From North Africa, the Ninth ID would join with General Patton and the 3rd Army in the Operation to conquer Sicily. After that, it was off to England to prepare for the coming invasion of Europe. "We had no idea what was coming ," said Les. "But after a while we kind of figured out that we were going to invade at some point." 

As we arrived at Utah beach, Harry and Les became quiet, occasionally pointing out landmarks or remembering something that happened here, old memories prodded back from deep within them. Sometimes their voices would crack and with a pause, they would close their eyes and grit their teeth until the  overwhelming emotion passed. Once Harry just stopped mid-sentence and for a long time said nothing. Perhaps the visions of those scenes from the past became too painful, these memories which had been suppressed for decades only now coming back to life.

Suddenly Les stopped and said "This is where I came through from the beach. I remember this area and also the cottage and bunker. I was in a jeep waiting in line to get off of the beach. I was pretty nervous sitting out in the open like this. I just wanted to get the hell off of the beach befre some German sniper took a shot at me." Then he laughed.

Someone asked Les and Harry when they felt like the Allies would win the war-- no doubts in their mind. "As soon as we landed and headed inland and began to drive the Germans back," Harry answered. Les added, "When we saw all of our planes and equipment along with nearly a milllion men in this one operation, we knew that we were going to win. It was just a matter of how long it would take."

The highlight of the day for me was a visit to the Roosevelt Cafe, a beach cottage-turned restaurant named in honor of one of FDR's sons killed in the invasion. Plodding in from the windy beaches and hungry from our day of touring, we met an unexpected surprise in the Cafe. The Roosevelt Cafe's bar was imprinted with "9th Infantry Division, Utah Beach" and was covered in signatures. After telling the proprietors that we had two veterans in our company, he immediately removed his cap, shook Mr. Mansfield's and Mr. Dail's hand, and offered a heart-felt "Thank You" in English. Then, various customers, mostly French, stood and applauded the veterans, offering "Thank You's," removing their hats, and shaking their hands. Our whole tour group was overwhelmed with emotion. These men, aged 87 and 89, had earlier told us that upon returning from war, no one asked about their experience. They came home, got married, had kids, and worked hard. Now, 60 years later, they caught a glimpse of not only our nation's gratitude but also that of the French. What an honor to witness this emotional outpouring of thanks! 


Cheers to Mr. Mansfield and Mr. Dail, and to all veterans and present military members. Thank you for your sacrifice and for that of your family and friends! Happy Memorial Day!

Back at the beach, 60 years later

Remembering their first time on the beach

The bar of the Roosevelt Cafe

Signing the bar of the Roosevelt Cafe, where all returning veterans leave their mark. 

A Time to Dance

I've been looking for a job since January. After I got rejected by Fulbright (I take alternate status as rejection!), I upped my ante. I've applied for over 30 jobs, and I only heard back from ONE. In the entire state of Georgia, there were THREE public high school history positions. In private schools, there were about 6. For those reading this who don't believe in God, let me just tell you that getting this job proves he exists. Let me explain.

I had a phone interview from Whitefield Academy in March, but then I heard nothing until mid-May, when I got a phone call for another phone interview. The school then asked me to come in for a day of interviewing, which I didn't think went all that well. Tucker and I have since been, well, freaking out. If you don't secure a teaching job by August, you have to wait another year to find one! So, we've been like that toddler in the grocery store who hurls himself in the middle of the aisle and flails about, screaming and wailing that he's not getting the race car he wants. We were feeling orphaned by God, but we were still praying for very specific things job-wise.

Here's the good part. I got a call during breakfast with a friend this past Thursday, and I actually put off checking my messages because I was pouting and convinced that God had abandoned me and therefore that I didn't get this job (talk about acting childish!). So I go check my voicemail, call the school's headmaster back, and he says, "We'd like to offer you the position." I literally responded incredulously, "Seriously?!"

God handed us on a silver platter what we've been praying for, down to the smallest detail of dental insurance. Here's why we're dancing in our household, praising God for his goodness and sovereignty:

1. There were over 100 applicants for this position at Whitefield. 
2. To my knowledge, I was one of a very few (if any other) females interviewed.
3. They were very interested in hiring a history teacher who could also coach, and let's face it, I'm no olympic athlete. 
4. All their other candidates were called in to teach a sample lesson for the administrators. I didn't get to do this because they interviewed me so late. 
5. I STILL GOT THE JOB.
6. The salary and benefits package they offered me is EXACTLY what we've been praying for, down to the EXACT salary amount we needed to feel financially stable enough to move with only one of us having job security. I'm talking to the thousand of dollars. Ridiculous.
7. We visited Smyrna, GA on Friday, and we LOVE the revitalized down-town and surrounding neighborhoods. It's like a mini-Augusta Road area in Greenville. 
8. I get to teach 11th and 12th graders EUROPEAN history. 

Now, a rational person just cannot chalk that up to "coincidence" or "luck" or  simply "hard-work paying off." This is a living, breathing product of God's sovereignty. Like Ecclesiastes says, for every season there is a time to dance, and we sure did make a quick turn-around in our household from mourning/pouting to dancing!

I'm not a prosperity-gospel kind of person, so don't take this posting to mean "I'm a christian, and therefore God gave me everything I wanted." Remember how I really wanted Poland? God certainly slammed that door shut, and I was pretty mad about it. Now that I'm on the other side, I see that these last 3 months of stress, heartache, anxiety, anger, depression, and sense of abandonment was a product of us not trusting the Lord's faithfulness while he was working out something even better. On the Monday before I got the job offer, we were literally in the darkest depths of the pit of discouragement. Then, it's as if God said, "Erika and Tucker, I love you so much and have been working all of this out for you. Chill out. I've got it covered." I'm sure God would be much more eloquent than that though hah.

Anyway, the point is, God is sovereign and good, even when I'm too busy pitching a fit to realize it. 

I love Paris...

ALL YEAR ROUND. Except June - August because that's when all the obnoxious tourists are there. As if I'm not one of them hah. I like to have my favorite place in the world more to myself, but I'm always ready to head to the City of Lights! This video made me pine after the lovely Paris even more! And you've got to love the Baudelaire reference of the title. Also, I'm stoked that I finally figured out how to embed a video on my blog. Even though it's (apparently)super easy, it still involved a "blogger" tutorial for me to get there. Enjoy the fruits of my tech-savy growth.

Le Flâneur (music by The XX) from Luke Shepard on Vimeo.

Making preschool songs reality

You know the song, "Jesus loves the little children of the world?" Well, I'm not crazy about the "red, and yellow, black, and white" part, but the idea of the song is appealing. We should teach our (nonexistent, for me) kids to love everyone since Jesus loves everyone. From what I've read in the blogging world, this notion is apparently harder than it seems. 

Recently I posted about a CNN report on how some kids today are still forming biased or racist ideas.  In some ways, kids' preference for those who look like them is natural. I mean, once kids get to a certain age, they think the opposite gender has "cooties" because they're different. Kids associate with those who are like them, so boys like to play with boys and girls with girls. So how do we get our kids to appreciate diversity without avoiding the beauty of difference by telling them "everyone is the same. You shouldn't see color." If you don't see color, you're assuming everyone is "white," right? I don't think that's the right answer. 

For some good examples of teaching your kids to respect those different than them, I took this list from one of my favorite blogs, Rage Against the Minivan (awesome title, right?). As a mother of 2 white and 2 black children, this mom suggested these ways to diversify your child's experience with race while growing up (and let's be honest, we can all benefit from thinking through these seemingly subtle but actually glaring examples of racial preference based on our own skin color!). 

1. Take an inventory of your home's diversity. Are your toys sending a subtle message? Make it a point to buy dolls and action figures of every race. Watch how your kids react.

2. Be intentional in showing your children positive examples of other races in the media they watch. Some great examples are  Go, Diego, Go!, Little Bill, Ni Hao, Kai-Lan, Dora the Explorer, and Cooking for Kids with Luis.

3. Take inventory of your own racial biases. Be careful with the language you use around your children. Avoid making stereotypical statements or racial jokes in front of your children. (or better yet, don't do it at all).

4. Look for opportunities to immerse your family in other cultures. Try to find situations where your family is the minority. This is a great stretching and empathy building opportunity for you and your kids. Try attending a minority church event or a cultural festival. Again, observe your child's reactions and open a dialogue about how that feels.

5. Read books that depict children from other races and countries. Some of our favorites are  We're Different, We're the Same, The Colors of Us , and Whoever You Are (Reading Rainbow Book) . For an incredible list of multi-cultural children's books, check out Shades of Love at Shelfari.com.

6. Just observe. Watch how your children play with children who are different, whether it be skin color, gender, disability, or physical differences. Talk about it. Let your child know that you are a safe person to process their feelings and reactions with, while at the same time guiding them to accept children with differences.

7. Lead by example. Widen your circle of friends and acquaintances to include people from different backgrounds, cultures and experiences.

I thought this was a pretty cool list. One day, whenever I have kids, I hope to incorporate some of Rage Against the Minivan's suggestions! Feel free to share in the comments your own ways of teaching your kids to appreciate diversity. 

A worthy case of plagiarism

So, I found a new blog that I'm slightly obsessed with called Jesus Needs New PR. As with any blog, I don't agree with all of his postings, but many of them are really convicting and inspiring. And technically I'm not plagiarizing if I give him credit, right?

Many of you know that Uganda and the plight of the orphans there is pretty dear to my heart, and the author of this blog got to visit Uganda in January with World Vision, a Christian humanitarian agency that's working around the world to facilitate sustainable change in the name of Jesus. Sometimes we feel overwhelmed by global crises, and honestly, my heart literally breaks for the seemingly rampant pain and festering wounds of poverty and evil, including in the United States, while I sit at home in my comfy home with a full pantry, a wonderful family, access to great education, and the ability to get water for cooking, drinking, cleaning, etc whenever I want. Why am I so blessed when others are in such agony? Talk about a heavy question. Luckily, Jesus has a HUGE soft spot for the poor and oppressed and that gives me hope. 

World Vision tries to live out the gospel and bring spiritual and physical healing in the name of Jesus to those suffering from injustice and oppression world wide. And 85% of what sponsors give goes straight to the kids. That's an organizational statistic that you can trust. I think it's an awesome agency, and Tucker and I sponsor a child in Haiti for only $30/month. We're praying about sponsoring another one, but of course, we're anxious about stepping out in faith to commit to a financial obligation when we don't have solid jobs. It's tough to trust sometimes, but when I think about how often we eat out, or how when I go to Target I spend $100 (it's a terrifying trend... that's why I only go about every 4-6 months), I realize we can TOTALLY afford to give hope to a child who needs food, vaccines, education, and even a birthday party. Not trying to guilt you all or anything, but seriously consider the tremendous impact of what may be a small or even large monthly sacrifice. Click here to sponsor a child. You can even choose the country, age, and gender of your child! 

Now onto the inspiring and water-works-inducing words of my blogger friend (can I say that if we've never met? I'm gonna say yes):

"As I prepare for my first day walking among Uganda’s poorest of the poor, I’m wondering how Dr. King’s dream relates to the children I will meet tomorrow in the hot dusty sands of the Gulu District in Northern Uganda. In honor of Dr. King’s day, I borrow the finale of “his dream” and rewrite it in perspective of what’s currently on my mind…

…Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations that exist all over the world–in places like the broken and turned-upside-down roads of Haiti, in the war-tattered deserts of Sudan, and in the stifling ghettos of Uganda’s Gulu District…

…I still have a dream.

And I believe it’s a dream deeply rooted in God’s dream for humanity.

I have a dream that one day God’s people will rise up and live out the true meaning of Jesus’s creed: “Blessed are the poor in spirit; for the kingdom of heaven belongs to them.”

I have a dream that one day in the dry wells of Guatemala, clean water will rise up.

I have a dream that one day those who live in Darfur, a people sweltering in the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into a community of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my son Elias will one day will love every man, woman, and child regardless of the color of their skin.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day the country of Haiti, whose people cry out in pain, desperation, and hopelessness, will be transformed by the light and furious grace of God’s people.

...This is our hope. This is the faith with which I go today into the back streets of the Gulu District.

With this faith God’s people will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to hell and back together, to stand up for justice together, knowing that all people will one day be free in Jesus.

This will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with a new meaning, “Grace, grace, God’s grace, grace that will pardon and cleanse within; grace, grace, God’s grace, grace that is greater than all our sin!”

And if the people of God are to be the hands and feet of Jesus, this must become true: Let freedom ring for the child sex slaves in India. Let freedom ring for the African mothers who will soon give birth to HIV-positive babies.

Let freedom ring for the hungry child in Appalachia.

Let freedom ring for the Central American community who needs clean water.

Let freedom ring for the oppressed women and children of Iran.

Let freedom ring for the Haitian child who still hasn’t found his momma.

And let freedom for the young boys in Uganda’s Gulu District, sick with the indoctrination of hate, worn from the ramifications of civil war, and beginning to find hope in the good and loving hands of God-loving/people-loving humanity.

When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every ghetto, from every state, community, and city, from every homeless shelter and every church AA meeting, from every small group gathering, deacons meeting, and praise and worship service, from every home who needs food, medicine, and hope, we will be helping God’s kingdom find a reality here on earth and making true the words of the old Negro spiritual…

Free at last. Free at last. Thank God Almighty, we are free at last...

So today, as I engage the people of the Gulu District, will you pray? Pray that I remember this dream. Pray that the people we engage will experience this dream. And pray about joining the dream in whatever capacity you are able…

But just like Martin Luther King, if he was living today, in addition to preaching, teaching, blogging, Twittering, and promoting God’s dream… let’s be God’s dream."

Really, this encompasses much of Jesus' vision for his kingdom on earth, a vision we as the church are called to commit to implementing. Child sponsorship is one simple yet astonishingly effective method of helping catalyze Jesus' mission. I pray you'll consider sponsorship. I promise, you'll be SO glad and blessed by your child, all the while showing that child Christ's blessings.  

Supersize me??

So I went to the doctor the other day, an orthopedist, for some hip/back issues I've been having for about two years. He was a total jerk... but that's a story for another day! As I entered the waiting room, I was stunned by the mass of people waiting to see orthopedists. The most appalling part? The majority of them were severely overweight. Now, I'm no doctor, but it seems like common sense that if you have joint and bone problems, being obese would only exacerbate an already painful condition. And I understand that being physically impaired makes it difficult to feel motivated to work out or maybe to even exercise at all. I tore a ligament in my ankle 6 weeks ago and have since been sidelined, and I've gained 5 pounds. Not only could I not run or do aerobics, but I couldn't even do normal "active" things in my day, like take the stairs more often, park far away, or walk any more than necessary. And my injury wasn't even that bad! I can't imagine having extreme pain when I move and how that would relegate me to the sofa or bed. And changing habits is hard, as is making time/being motivated to exercise if it's already difficult in the first place. But, my question is, why aren't changes to exercise and diet taken more seriously by people? I'm sure doctors highly recommend it. 


So I did a little digging to check the facts. Here goes.

• America is the most obese country in the world (no shocker here) with 30.6% of our population classified as obese. More women than men are obese. 
• Mexico, United Kingdom, Slovakia, and Greece round out the top 5 most obese countries. 
• The number of obese Americans has increased steadily since 1960. 
• Obesity increases your risk of developing high blood pressure, type 2 diabetes, heart disease, stroke, gallbladder disease, cataracts, age-related macular degeneration (AMD) and cancer of the breast, prostate, and colon. In fact, obesity increases your risk of death. And that’s not all. The lesser known effects of obesity may also include asthma, pregnancy complications, infertility and even Parkinson's disease, a progressive neurological disorder.
• Arthritis and joint problems have skyrocketed along with obesity. Even losing just 10 lbs can help reduce the joint strain caused by excess weight. 
• Obesity contributes to the growing global food crisis since obese people eat 18% more on average than other healthy-weight people. So, not only are food prices increasing and shortages occurring as our global population grows, but the rising rates of obesity compound the problem as world-wide, people are eating more. 
• Medical care costs of obesity in America are staggering, ranking $147 billion in 2008. These costs are only growing as obesity and unhealthy weights continue to increase.

You can see your state's health rankings here. According to the "America's Health Rankings" website, 

"Obesity is growing faster than any previous public health issue our nation has faced. Today, more than one in four Americans are considered obese. If current trends continue, 103 million American adults - or 43 percent of the population - will be considered obese by 2018, making obesity the nation's next health battle."   

The chart below shows obesity rates by state in 2009. If you click on the link, the map is actually interactive and shows the extreme growth rate of obesity since the 1980s. It's pretty alarming.

So what are the answers? Of course, be more active, eat less sodium, less processed foods, more fruits, vegetables and legumes, less meat, etc. For the CDC's proposed solutions to childhood obesity, see here. I don't have kids, but I can only imagine how difficult it would be to teach your child healthy eating/exercise habits if they are facing weight problems. I'm sure the balance between encouraging healthy eating/self-confidence without seeming critical is pretty difficult. 


Some of the "solutions" to obesity seem like common sense, but unfortunately, for many people, it's a matter of ignorance or just unstable access to healthy resources. There are some interesting proposals out there to limit junk-food purchases with food stamps, since oftentimes the low-income population is often the unhealthiest and tax-payers foot the bill for unhealthy foods and medical care caused by high weight. At the same time, low-income areas suffer from limited access to grocery stores, sit-down restaurants, fresh produce, or even resources to plan "healthy" meals for the week. We can't just say the poor are "lazy" and "fat." As with most things in life that deal with balancing people's independence and agency with the role of government, "it's complicated." 


Many of us know the way to "be healthy" but I don't think people realize the consequences of continuing trends in severe weight gain. I'm certainly not the picture of health, but the more I read about the links between what you put in your body, the size of your body, and the correlating health of your body, I will hopefully think twice before eating a large french fry! I think America's mentality doesn't help, either. Everything in America is large: cars, furniture, houses, stores, clothes, portions. I read an article in Women's Health the other day about a woman who weighed over 300 lbs and had her health epiphany when she was stranded in Europe without her luggage and could find no clothes large enough to fit her. 

Many of you know way more about this topic than me, so if you have articles or sites with more info, leave them in the comments. It's a worthy topic, I think, that deserves more public attention, not to "hate fat people" but to trend towards healthy lifestyles instead of unhealthy. This is a problem that our country (and at some point most 1st world countries) will have to deal with, especially with national healthcare on the table that would mean we as taxpayers would more fully foot the bill for medical problems caused by unhealthy eating. And obesity is not just a matter of "duck-taping their mouths shut," as I've heard people insensitively say. There are psychological, genetic, socioeconomic, education, and other issues at play beyond just lifestyle and food choices. Hopefully, increasing awareness and changing medical prescriptions to include dietitians, nutritionists, and maybe even personal training (insurance covers physical therapy, right?) would educate and provide opportunities for our communities to make significant, lasting changes. The solution, like so many others, remains to be seen. 

Island time

Tucker had a job interview Friday in Tifton, GA (fingers crossed), and since I've never been to the Georgia islands in my almost 4 years of Georgia living, we decided to head to the beach. We stayed on Jekyll Island, a state park that's much less commercialized than neighboring St. Simons. It was beautiful! We thought about staying here

But our budget led us here

Not quite as stately you say? Agreed. You get what you pay for. When the website said "beach access limited at high tide," it really meant "beach access unavailable at high tide...or half high tide.. or really anytime other than exactly low tide." Case in point

 Anyone up for a quick beach walk? No? No takers for descending the steps to what could result in a painful dashing on the rocks? Hum, imagine that. The scary part is we first ventured out at night for a "romantic stroll." We kept hearing the waves loudly pounding something. Come to find out, on the dimly lit beach access, we could have strolled straight out into the high tide, strong current waves! 

We did find the beach though. And of course we got fried, since, being in our mid-20s and having lived a lifetime of utter paleness, we have yet to experience enough horrible sunburns to teach us about adequately slathering on the screen. Our bike riding adventure earlier that day was mostly to blame for the crazy burn, though. 

My favorite thing about traveling is learning (yes, I'm a huge nerd). And Jekyll Island, while originally inhabited by the British, ended up in the hands of a FRENCH EMIGRÉ. Say what?! I stumbled upon this grave in the Dubignon family cemetery and shrieked in my historical hysteria "Tucker, this girl's from Saint Domingue! Her dad was an emigré from the Revolution because he supported King Louis XVI!" Totally got the "historical high" of seeing history in real life. And the French guy brought 49 slaves to the island. I mean, this is what I've been studying for the past year of my life. Practically applying what some may consider hours wasted studying dead French people and old ideas brings me a little vindication. 

So, we got to bike ride, sit on the beach and be entertained by strangers' dogs and children (what else do you do on the beach?), eat good seafood, and learn a little history. All in all, that's what I call some classic island time. 

Beautiful scars

"I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived."--Little Bee by Chris Cleave

Check out this blog for refreshing insight on wasting time wishing for the past when we should instead be grateful for the present and for how the past has shaped our individual stories. Jamie, a missionary in Costa Rica, on the beauty of adversity:

"In my foolishness, I plead to God to take away the broken parts, make it like it was, like none of this ever happened. But it seems, in my haste to forget life’s biggest challenges, I would erase all of the best parts of the story. Because where I see a heart, broken and aching for the poor, He sees a heart, salvaged from materialism, and Restored to a better condition. And where I see a marriage, broken by every kind of selfishness, He sees a couple, raised from the brink of death, and Restored to a better place. And where I see all the scars left by living a dirty, messed up life, He sees that what was once broken is now made whole. Our scars are simply evidence of what has been Restored. They get to tell the Story of where our lives have been touched by God."

And here I am learning from her challenges and her honesty. The inner or outer scars of adversity can make us more beautiful if we only shift our perspectives to see it that way. You never know how your response to trials might strengthen and encourage others, all the while restoring and teaching you as well.  

In honor of my Grandmothers

I was talking to my Dad the other day and asked him what he was doing for Mother’s Day. He told me he didn’t know since neither he nor my mom had living mothers anymore. For me, the anniversaries of my grandmothers’ deaths are the hardest times, but holidays, like Christmas and Mother’s Day, further remind me and my family that these special ladies are gone. I’m so lucky that, even though I’ve lost two grandmothers, in the mean time I’ve gained three: my grandfather’s second wife and Tucker’s two grandmothers. All three are amazing women that I constantly learn from about sacrificial, selfless love. 

Me with Gran, Tucker's grandmother

Me with Barbara, my grandmother

   

But the two grandmothers who changed my diapers, kissed my boo-boos, and watched me grow up just live on in my memory. So in honor of my grandmothers, I want to memorialize them in prose, remembering why I loved them so much and how I cherish the memories of time with them. 

Anne Collins Barefoot 

1. I love that she always burned the bread, at every meal she ever made for us. And she always seemed surprised that it had happened AGAIN. 
2. I love that she would sing hymns at church, at the top of her lungs, even though her voice was less than melodic, to put it lightly. :)
3. I love that she was so tender-hearted and cried ALL THE TIME. And every time the tears were close, she’s poke both her lips out and up, totally grandmamma style, as if somehow that would stop the floodgate. It never did!
4. I love that she came to every recital, concert, pageant (yes, mock me now, I had a pageant stint), swim meet, and event in which I participated. 
5. At all of these events, she was that grandmother who loudly proclaimed, in the crowd of other parents whose kids were also participating, that “Erika is the best one up there,” even though I clearly never was. She was my number one fan :) 
6. I love how much she loved the Lord, and how she truly believed in the power of prayer. Sometimes I feel cheated that I didn’t get to learn more from her faith since she died when I was only 17. 
7. I love how generous she was and how she always tithed faithfully and was frugal on spending for herself. 
8. I love that she was obsessed with the Sound of Music and that she would watch it with me (normally there were tears involved). But, I always wanted to watch it with her because my only other choice was a Gaither’s concert or Gerbert, that weird Christian puppet show. Grandaddy even told me once all about how he took her to see the Sound of Music, and they had to ride a bus just to get to a movie theater in another city that offered the film. 
9. I love that she wasn’t a great cook (she always either made breakfast, frogmore stew, spaghetti, or broccoli casserole and macaroni with ham) yet I still have fond memories of her cooking for our family, us all squeezing in around the table, and her at the head smiling. 
10. I love that when she helped me learn how to drive, and I nearly rear-ended someone on Lauren’s Road, she calmly said “Erika, when you see those red lights, that means stop.”  
11. I love that, even though she was suffering immensely from the leukemia that ravaged her body in just 6 months, she would try to joke and put me at ease so that I wouldn't worry about her. What a selfless act of kindness and love in the midst of immense suffering. 
12. I love that she wrote all of her children and grandchildren letters just before she died, explaining the prayers she had prayed and the love she felt for us. I found them in her closet when I was helping sort her things after her death. The verse she left me was Ephesians 3:16-19

"I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, ¹⁷ so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, ¹⁸ may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, ¹⁹ and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God."

Thanks Grandmamma, for all of those practical lessons and for loving me no matter what. (I don't have a digital photo of my grandmamma because she died nearly 10 years ago.)

 Earline Styles Brown 

1. I love that she used to let me use her silk pj’s as my blanket during sleep overs at her house. 
2. I love that she came to my dance competition in Charlotte every year, like a little girls’ vacation. 
3. She made the best macaroni and cheese and lemon pie (which we called “buggy pie” because one time the flour she used was buggy! and another time I found one of her fake fingernails in the pie...haha but I promise, normally it was delicious.)
4. I love how much she loved the beach, especially Hawaii. 
5. I love that whenever I called her, she lit up, so much that I could tell even over the phone. 
6. I love that when I told her Tucker and I might want 3 or 4 kids she said, “Do you know how many that is?!” She was so excited about great grandbabies.
7. I love that even though she suffered from psychological challenges that made crowds scary to her, she came to one of my wedding showers, my rehearsal dinner, and my wedding. And she looked beautiful. 
8. I love that she kept EVERYTHING, which I found out when I was cleaning out her bathroom and closet. Lucky for me, she had great style and I found awesome shoes that I now wear and think of her. 
9. I love that she got so excited for me to travel to France and especially Ireland. She wanted to know what Irish stew tasted like :)
10. I love that she could be a tough lady sometimes, but she always loved her grandchildren, unconditionally, and in a way that made us know how important we were to her. 

My Nanny at our wedding in 2007

I miss my grandmothers. Sometimes I dream about them in such clarity that they seem to be present, in reality. But when I awaken I realize that they were merely the sweet phantoms of my subconscious, a sobering but also joyful discovery. I often fear that I'll forget them, but my dreams remind me how entrenched my love for them is. I know I’ll see them again someday, but I do wish, especially with my grandmamma, that I’d made more time to listen and learn from her. Tucker never even got to meet her. But he loves hearing stories about her, which is good, since I love to tell them and taste the sweetness of loving someone so much that recalling their legacy brightens my entire countenance. Rejoicing in the memory of my grandmamma literally envelops me in her love again, like a lingering hug that warms me from the inside out. What a gift to have had these ladies love and nurture me!

So this Mother's Day weekend, I'll be missing my grandmothers but also cherishing my memories, feeling lucky to have shared the years that I did with these two special women.  If you are able, hug your grandmothers. Years down the road you'll be so glad that you did. Those hugs have pretty significant lingering effects.