Response to Anonymous

Anonymous said...
"Dear Nikki,I don't know how you do it but you manage to find the funny in the everyday. I admire your spirit. Thanks for sharing."
December 10, 2007 11:56:00 PM EST

Anonymous,

I am a very happy person by nature. I love to laugh...the more often the better. Sometimes it gets me in trouble, because I have been guilty of laughing at inappropriate times. (Ask my husband.)

Seriously, being able to find "the funny" in the everyday is what has enabled me to continue to care for my grandmother and other family members. Especially during difficult times. Sometimes life is hard, but God and laughter help me hurdle over "life's bumps" with ease.

Thanks for your continued support.

"Our mouths are filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy...The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy." Psalm 126:2-3

Muddear on Cooking Chicken

"See when I first got married I got pregnant and was craving chicken. I told my grandmother and you know what she told me? 'Girl, you better go out there and get you a chicken to eat.' See, when I was younger I lived with my grandmother and she always raised chickens, so this was nothing new to me. After I talked to my grandmother, I laughed and went outside to pick me a chicken - not a big one, a fryer. Then I broke its neck, cleaned out the inside, and cooked it whole. You talk about some good chicken!"

Nikki Asked: Muddear, how did you break the chicken’s neck? (I have never seen or touched a live chicken so all of this is new to me.)
Muddear Answered: You just grab the chicken by the neck and twist it until the neck breaks. (Muddear was making a circular swinging motion with her wrist, similar to when you swing a towel.)

Mike Asked: It must have been hard removing all of the feathers. How do you remove the chicken feathers?
Muddear Answered: That was easy. You just bring a large pot of water to boil. Then put the chicken in the boiling water. The feathers just fall off.

Nikki Asked: What do you do with the head? (Muddear looked at me as if I was "special" then laughed until she could not laugh anymore.)
Muddear Answered: You cut off the head. I ain't never heard tale of someone keeping the chicken head.

Family Hands

After reading Grandma's hands, I took pictures of the hands of my family. As we grow older, I would like to hold on to the memories connected with these hands. See Muddear, Nikki, Mariah, and Mike Jr. Somehow, I lost the picture of the hands of Mike Sr. - he will be forthcoming.

Grandma's Hands

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands. When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK. Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was OK.

She raised her head and looked at me and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," she said in a clear strong voice. "I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to her.

"Have you ever looked at your hands?" she asked. "I mean really looked at your hands?" I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making. Grandma smiled and related the following story:

"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. "These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. "They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war. They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent.! "They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. "They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse. They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I did not understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. "They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer. "These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life. But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ."

I will never look at my hands the same again. God reached out and took my grandma's hands and led her home. When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and husband I think of Grandma. I know she has been held by the hands of God. And I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

Author Anonymous