Music in my Veins

 

Music has an amazing power.
 It can take you far away from your troubles, and sorrows, and into a beautiful world of notes, emotions, and bliss.
 Music has been a huge part of my life, since I was old enough to hum the first notes of 'Jesus Loves Me'.
 Family gatherings were often filled with the beautiful notes of a piano or guitar, sometimes family members singing solos, and other times the whole group lifting it's voice in song.
 They sang the popular country songs of the time, like 'Little Bitty' or 'Fishing In the Dark', and they also sang Great-Uncle O'Neil's songs, like, 'Frog-Legs', 'Spotted Owl' and 'Father, Have Mercy'.
What fun it was when the young folk would take up their guitars and sing their hearts out!
Us little kids would gather around the living room, staring up in fascination while our 'old' cousins and uncles sang and played. (Most of them were just teens)

This is the new generation of 'young folk' :D

 More often than not, the songs sung were mainly those beloved hymns of old-time, or gospel songs written by family members.
(Incidentally, the top photo has the lyrics of my great-grandpa's beautiful song that he wrote many years ago. No stealing, please.)
The comfort found in those songs is so much stronger than I could ever try to describe.
 The peace in those inspired words...it just fills your whole being as you sing.
Hymns are such a blessing in troubled times, because often enough there is no healing found except in the comfort of music.
 I remember those hard weeks, when my grandma was slowly passing away into eternity.
The house was filled many, many loved ones, gathered to comfort each other and to say goodbye to the woman we all loved for so long.
 Many of us stayed overnight, for weeks, and it was an adventure to find a place to sleep at night.
You were literally stepping over sleeping kids and even adults as you went through the house, and if you got a blanket, you were lucky.
 My dad even slept in a lawn chair out on the porch one night.
Someone was always up with Grandma, and I don't know if my Grandpa ever got any sleep. I do know that his dark hair beard turned silver before it was all through.
 But during all this, the sleepless nights, the sad days, music was playing throughout the house.

Great-Aunt Eunie played piano(in the photo above Great-Aunt Darlene is playing) with those musical fingers and sang with her lovable Southern drawl, no matter how late it was, or how dark the days seemed.
 Sometimes others joined in, other times it was only her, alone, singing hymns at the top of her voice.
Uncle Casey sometimes played guitar and sang, or it was O'Neil on his own guitar.
It seemed like there was always music throughout the house.
 Through music we can reach out, comfort the lonely and lost, heal the hurt, and other times find our own comfort through those blessed words.

'Hold my hand all the way, every hour, everyday, from here to the great unknown. Take my hand, let me stand where no one stands alone...'

'Abide with me, fast falls the eventide. The darkness deepens, Lord, with me abide!'

'And I believe that there's a place called heaven, and I believe in a place called Calvary...'

'In the cross, in the cross ,be my glory ever, till my raptured soul shall find rest beyond the river...'

One of my favorite hymns is 'Rock of Ages', that blessed song from so long ago.
 It just fills me such peace and awe when I ponder the words.
'Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in Thee.'
 Rock of ages.
Think how long this Rock, this Savior, has been holding each and every believer, since the very beginning, in his arms.
 Ages and ages.

Then there is the beloved 'Amazing Grace'.
'Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me! I once was lost, but now am found. Was blind, but now I see.'
To think that an evil, cruel captain of a slave ship saw the great power of God, saw His loving forgiveness, and His amazing grace.... What a loving God we serve!

So you don't you see?
 What a powerful gift He has given us, to sing our hearts out, whether we are hurting, or rejoicing, there is a song for every moment.
 I am huge a fan old-time country, and I love the old folk songs, but nothing, absolutely nothing, could ever beat those blessed hymns of old. <3

What is one of your favorite hymns?

                                                                               LaKaysha

Car Accident

Don't you all start having conniption fits.
 This happened way back in 2008. lol
Nine years ago.... Wow
All this snow, and nerve-wracking drives through it and the ice got me to thinking about our accident years go.
 It was snowing, and we were on our way home from our new house which was still under construction.
 We have deep ravines and ditches along our roads (I mean, the road was built into a hill!) and they can be pretty steep....
 I remember thinking little about the snow and slush.
I was pretty young and, come on, Daddy won't let anything happen to us, right?
 Of course he wouldn't, but I was too young to know the difference between what Daddy can and can't do.
We little 'chillens' were watching 'The Apple Dumpling Gang' on our little screen that hung from the van ceiling, paying little attention to the scenery outside, when I heard my dad say something.
 I looked up and saw him desperately cranking the wheel, his face cold and urgent, and knew something bad was going on.
 The rest of the kids weren't paying attention.
All I remember is the van started sliding, I closed my eyes tight, and began praying, out loud, "Jesus, please, save us. Jesus, please save us."
 I could feel the van moving, but didn't dare open my eyes, until, for just a split second, everything was still, and I peeked my eyes open.
 Everything seemed to be flying by, and the trees were coming up fast.
I realized we were in the air, and quickly closed my eyes again.
 If we were going over, I didn't want to see.
 Then WHAM!
I heard my mom cry, "God, help us!", the crash of glass, and then I was slammed against my van door, hitting my head on the glass window.
  When I opened my eyes, Liberty's car seat was squishing me against the door, it's plastic edge hurting my shoulder, and we were leaning against a tree in the deep ravine.
 My mom only had a small cut above her eye (amazingly, you'll agree when you see where she was sitting) Daminika a small cut/rash in her neck from her seatbelt, and couple of us had whiplash.
 I remember my mom turning to look at us and kept asking if we were ok.
We kept saying yes, and then she said, "Thank the Lord!"
 Being the obedient little child I was, I promptly said, "Thank you, Lord Jesus!"
(Yes, I was a character. You ought to hear the candy story...but's that for another day.lol)
 But it had been my first brush with death.
My first realization that I could have died.
 I remember telling my mom as we waited for the ambulance, "Mommy, we could have died."
She was kind of preoccupied (rightly so, wouldn't you agree?) and just kind of said, "Yes, yes, we could have."
"But we didn't, Mommy." I couldn't really explain.
 I couldn't really describe to anyone what I was feeling then.
Only that God is really in control, and my life was in His Hands.
 It was actually a very wonderful thought, to think that nobody, not even I, had a say whether I lived or died.
 Only God.
I remember getting into the ambulance, and being a little frightened, shivering even though I wasn't really cold.
 They offered me a blanket but I shook my head silently.
The paramedics asked each one of us in turn if we hurt anywhere, and I told them my shoulder really hurt, but when they pulled my sweatshirt off to look, they saw that it was only a bruise.
 My great-aunt and uncle came to pick us all up and brought us their house, and a couple of us went down Urgent Care to get checked out better.
 But there were no serious injuries. :)

 My mom's side, where we hit the tree

And that, my friends, is why I have trouble riding or driving in the snow.
 I can't even go by that spot, snowy or not, without hearing that crash again.

But, our lives are God's Hands, and we just be careful, do the best we can. and leave the rest to Him.
 
                                                                      LaKaysha

A Tribute to My Grandma

My Grandma was a wonderful, warm person, with a heart big enough to hold any person that crossed her way.
 She radiated Christ's love anywhere she went, those beautiful eyes warming your whole being whenever she looked at you.
 Whenever she saw me, she'd open up her arms and engulf me in one of her great bears hugs, squeezing me tight, assuring me without words that she loved me.
 I guess I had always known Grandma was sick.
I could recall Mommy telling the story of when Grandma came home to tell her the news, how she was very sick with a strange sickness called cancer.
 My mom was twelve, I believe.
But that was a long time ago.
 I truly believed in my little heart that Grandma was well.
Even when I found out that she was getting worse, I knew that if I prayed hard enough, she would get better, and stay with me forever.
 But then she got sick.
Very sick.
 And she wasn't going to get better.
The many trips to hospital, the long days spent in the quiet room, they are kind of fuzzy now.
 But to this day I can't walk into a hospital without feeling that strange, confused and lonely feeling I had felt all that time.
 Finally the doctors said that she hadn't long to live, and Grandma went home to that wonderful house I grew up in, to die.
 Her last days were filled with family, singing, laughter, and love, and those days were the warmest, saddest, and most beautiful days of my life.
 I wanted her out of pain, wanted her to go home to Jesus, but I didn't realize that meant losing her.
 I didn't understand at first. I was young, and naïve.
Grandma was sick, yes, I knew.
 Grandma was going to die, yes, I knew.
At least I thought I knew.
 I couldn't imagine life without her, and I don't think I truly believed it would happen.
Not to her.
 But the Grandma I had known all of my beginning years seemed to be gone, and a tired, weary, pained woman was in her place.
 No more hugs, no more kisses and laughter.
I was nine years old then, and although I knew she couldn't help it, I felt a little alone, pushed away, and forgotten.
 I saw Grandma's pain, saw the weariness and sorrow in Mommy's eyes, the tears in Grandpa's, and I couldn't understand it.
 Nothing seemed to make sense anymore.
I hurt, but didn't understand just why.
 I wanted her hugs, her smile.
I wanted her to look at me with those warm eyes and truly see me.
 And then, one night, I leaned over her bed to kiss her goodnight as us grandkids always did, then turned to leave.
 Grandma suddenly reached out her hand and grabbed my arm in firm grip, her eyes staring into my face in almost desperation.
 She wouldn't let go.
I remember Mommy saying, "What is it, Mom? What are you trying to say?"
 She just looked at me, unable to speak, trying so very hard to tell me something.
I didn't know what it was then, but I do now.
 She wanted to tell me, before she went away, that she loved me, that Jesus loved me, and that everything was going to be okay.
How had she known the loneliness and pain I would feel years down the road?
Every time I look back on that moment, I wish I had thrown my arms around her and assured her that I knew.
 But I didn't.
Sometimes I cry myself to sleep, missing her.
 The terrible ache seems to only grow as I get older, and sometimes I get a lonely desire to talk with her again, hug her one more time, and to simply see her smile.
 And then there are times when she seems to be fading in my memory, when I can't picture her face in my mind, and I get so scared, thinking maybe I am forgetting her.
  I guess that's the worst part of losing one you love.
But then... :D
 Then I see my own mom smile, hear her laugh, and listen to her wise words, and I am reminded that I still have an amazing woman in my life.
 A woman so much like the one I lost, and a woman very much a part of her.
And I am thankful.
 Very thankful.
                                                            LaKaysha

My Own Memory Lane

I read Felicity's blog post about her own memories, and I began down my own memory lane, where life was so much simpler, and so much sweeter.
 I remember going to The Friendly Farm in with all of the family, and feeding the baby goats from my hand, and feeling a little nervous, while my Aunt Marita picked up one kid.
  Most of my earliest memories are from the ranch or New Hampshire.
I remember laying in a throw, giggling, while I stared up at my uncles Nolan and Marlon as they held the corners and swung me gently, laughing. I wasn't too happy when they put the other kids in with me. I was slightly selfish then... ;)
 Swinging on the giant rope swing in the Ranch's barn, Grandma smiling at me and giving me push while telling me to hold on tight.
 Playing 'house' in the room in the barn, mixing sawdust and water in old pots, while Felicity swept the concrete floor, and Marissa pretended to start a fire in the old stove.

This Saturday, the family had a barbeque, so we could spend some time with Mikey and Missy, who were visiting for the weekend.
 I watched the little kids run around the yard, playing "war" while Chancy and the boys captured them and dragged them off to their base.
 I was swept away into a different time, when I was one of those little kids being taken prisoner and carried away to the big kids base, which usually was Grandpa's shop.
Little Casey and Marissa were almost always the captains of the big kids, while Austin and I were the little kids leaders. Oh, where has the time gone? I wish I could go back and truly appreciate the time I had with Austin and Casey...

One year I went with my mom to drop Felicity off at Casey and Debby's for Little Casey's birthday party, and Austin came running out of the house, and bounced in front of the van window, asking if I could stay, too. My mom agreed, and I happily jumped out of the old van. We had a lot of fun building a fort out of tarp and wood, while the sun danced between the swaying trees. Such good times...

The most clear memory I have is the day my sweet, wonderful grandma finally left her cancer behind and went to be with our Savior. I was watching a movie, but I don't recall what it was, with the other kids, when Felicity came in, her head down, and her eyes red. She stopped in front of me, and whispered, "Grandma died."
  I couldn't believe it. I had known she would, but when those words were spoken, I couldn't get my mind around it, and I glared at my sister to show her that I didn't think she was funny.
 She had to be joking. It wasn't possible.
But I knew by her red face that she wasn't lying, and I jumped up from the Lazy Boy, running to throw back the blanket that hung in the doorway of the dining room where Grandma was staying. The sound of crying could be heard, and it was Uncle Clint who put his arm around me and told me that she was in heaven now, away from pain. That is the most painful, yet wonderful memory I have....

Things seemed so much easier in those old days of childhood...I miss them a lot.
But it has been a nice walk, and it felt nice to take that little stroll.

                                            God Bless,
                                                LaKaysha

Reminiscing

Lately I've been missing the old days of yesterday, especially at Christmas time
I thought I would just share some of my memories with you.
I remember going to Grandma's at Christmas time was a pure joy for all us kids, and getting there, the house would be warm, Uncle Casey's voice would be singing from the cd player, and the adults would be gathered around the kitchen, mashing potatoes, and seasoning the gravy.
When it would come time to open gifts, we would all gather in the family room, while Grandpa read aloud the Christmas Story to us wide-eyed youngsters.
The gifts never really mattered. We were always happy with whatever we were given, because they were from Grandpa and Grandma. The pure happiness of being together was clear to us even then, at such a young age.
At home, John Denver would play from our stereo, while we jumped along the couches in our Sunday dresses.
The holidays were always filled with music when I was growing up. Either we sang, or a tape or cd would sound about the house. There was always music. Always.
Grandma loved singing, and guess that's where most of the grandkids get it.
I really miss her this Christmas.
Merry Christmas!
                                                                LaKaysha