My childhood was a country girl’s version of unicorns and rainbows; I call it purple flowers and buttercups. Granny says Haley and I picked every pretty flower on the hillside, including the ones in her flowerbed. My childhood was filled with days spent in the woods building club houses, playing a good game of backyard ball, or sledding on the fresh-cut hayfield (no snow required). Life was easy and times were good; Momma made sure of it. She was not just my momma but was a mother to our step-siblings, Tonia and Lacie, and a mother to all seven of her nieces and nephews. Just ask them and they will tell you: Aunt Glida was their biggest fan.
Her children rise up, and call her blessed… Proverbs 31:28
Another Buttercup Picker
Some children are not as fortunate as others, and they have to deal with unfair situations. That’s how Jonna came into our lives. Jonna was the great niece of my step-dad, Phillip. Phillip had learned that Jonna was having to deal with a bad situation, so she came to live with us at age five. Jonna was full of life, a stinker, and a buttercup picker. Long after my days of flower-picking, Jonna came along to carry on the tradition of keeping the flowers on our hillside off the ground and in vases. Jonna’s dad came around and she spent a lot of time with him, but for the most part, Jonna was with us. After two years of staying with us quite a bit, Jonna asked for her own room. Because Momma was in the business of making all kids happy, she gave Jonna my old room and fixed it up just for her.
Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for such is the kingdom of God. Mark 10:14
Purple Flowers Don’t Last Forever
April 5, 2008
5:00 p.m. Lacie left for prom, and I suggested that Jonna call her neighbor friend and ask if she could sleep over.
9:00 p.m. I was feeling a little afraid so I chose to go get in Kyle’s bed and just wait on him to come home.
11:00 p.m. Kyle came home from Lindsey’s and went upstairs to check on the girls who were still playing in Jonna’s new room.
12:30 a.m. Lacie returns from prom and goes up to see the girls who are playing but are very tired and ready for bed.
4:00 a.m. Kyle and Jesse leave for a turkey hunting trip down south.
5:30 a.m. Phillip leaves for work.
6:00 a.m. Hell comes to life.
“Girls get up the house is on fire!” Momma screamed as she turned the corner to run up the stairs where Jonna and her friend were sleeping. Lacie and I met in the hall panicking as we ran outside. As we exited the patio door, we turned to confirm that our worst day was taking place. Flames had engulfed our home. To say we were panicked would be an understatement. I asked Lacie to get in her car and go to Granny’s to call 911. Although I promised Lacie I wouldn’t, I went back in the house to look for my momma. I ran to the stairs, which were completely gone, and screamed for my momma. I begged God to please give me my momma. All of a sudden I heard the most beautiful sound; it was a crash onto the front porch. Momma always told me that if I was ever upstairs and the house caught on fire, I should kick out a little spot in the attic, and I would land on the front porch. I raced outside and as I turned the corner, I realized I had not heard Momma and the girls fall onto the front porch; I had heard the porch swing fall. Uncle Jeff came running up with the local cop and asked where Momma was. I told them she went upstairs to get the girls. They both tried to get into the house.
Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. Mark 15:13
Momma Taught Me to Pray
Momma didn’t have all the right answers; she often became frustrated with the perils of life. She was not a good cook, keeping the laundry up was a nightmare with four kids, and you can forget keeping the house clean with four to eight ballgames a week. When things were good, Momma prayed. When things were bad, Momma prayed. She also taught us to pray. So as I crumbled in our yard on April 5th, I prayed just like Momma taught me. I prayed God please give me a miracle. I repeated it over and over until Coach Scott physically picked me up and carried me away from my burning home.
The days that followed April 5th are hard to remember, though I do remember praying. I prayed Lord please let me die, I can’t handle the pain, please let me die. One night as I was praying this, The Lord spoke to my heart and said “Kayla you prayed for a miracle that day in the yard. I gave you a miracle. I spared you. Now go and do something about it."
The Lord is my refuge and my strength, a very present help in trouble. Be still and know that I am God.
Psalms 46:1 & 10
The Flowers Still Bloom
No matter how my heart breaks, the world keeps turning, people keep living, and those little purple flowers still bloom every spring. Most people would call those purple flowers weeds, but I love them. They are the first sign of spring after many long dark winter days. On my day of hell, my yard was filled with loving people as I begged for miracles, and mercy bowed down on my knees in a bed of purple flowers. Those flowers remind me of my momma who taught me to love, forgive, and to pray. She taught me that Jesus is the answer and that He alone is my refuge. She warned me that life would not be easy, and she was right.
Flowers started blooming in my personal life when I met my husband Jason. He is my own personal purple weed after a lot of dark days. He makes me happy, and he loves and takes care of me. He also made me a momma.
Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. Psalms 30:5
Make Me a Momma
Almost a year ago, I became a momma. It was tough the day I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to call my momma and tell her. Lord knows she would have been thrilled to have another grandbaby. I cried myself to sleep several nights as my hormones raged and I longed to talk to Momma. I was spending the night with Kyle and Lindsey just after I had told them I was pregnant, and I dreamed that Momma and I were talking at a volleyball game. After some conversation, I asked Momma if she had met Klaire, my niece. Momma laughed and told me she picked her out. I woke up knowing and believing I was going to have a girl that Momma had picked out, and I knew I would name her after Momma.
I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works; and my soul knoweth right well. Psalms 139:14
We Will Call Her Kollins Gail
Kollins was born May 26, 2016. She looks at me and my heart melts. Days can be tough when you are a momma and have no clue what to do. When I find myself in these situations, I want to call my momma. I have found that God gives mommas special instincts to raise children. With those instincts, I give Kollins the promise of a better tomorrow. I do not have all the answers and I don’t pretend to have them, so when I mess up or make a parenting error, I wipe our tears and promise to do better the next time. To be honest, I am a lot like my own momma. I can’t cook well, laundry is the bane of my existence, and a clean house is out of the question (especially when we are in softball season). I feed Kollins chocolate biscuits, let her drink coke from a straw, and sometimes we have ice cream for supper. I am not a good Pinterest mom, and my home doesn’t have the latest Leap Frog or Baby Einstein gadgets; we have 150 pie pans and wooden spoons that Aunt Rachel sent for Christmas, and Kollins plays with them for hours at a time.
For me there is beauty in simplicity. Kollins may not have free range chicken with asparagus for dinner, but I am certain, she knows that I love her. She will not remember if our house was clean or if her clothes were dry cleaned or what brand shoes she wore, but she will remember that her momma played with her, that we got in the floor and made pies, rocked on the back porch, and sang song after song. She will remember that we read stories and made up some, too. She will know that her momma kisses her goodnight and prays for happy days to continue. She will know my momma’s love because I will love her like my momma loved me.
For this child I prayed; and the Lord hath given me my petition which I asked of Him. 1 Samuel 1:28
Sometimes I Still Smell Ashes
Broken hearts can beat on forever, and on days like graduation, my wedding day, the day I found out I was pregnant, and when I gave birth, I smelled ashes. I smell ashes every time our softball team takes the field and at every State Volleyball Tournament. In the still of the night, when I am all alone, I smell ashes. I smell ashes when my heart aches and my mind can’t function because of the pain I hide behind a smile. I smell ashes when a woman rocks my baby to sleep and I long for it to be my momma rocking her. Most of the time when I smell ashes, I look for family. I text my husband to ask about his day, I call my brother just to say I love you, I visit Granny, or I call up Lindsey and meet her and Klaire.
I still take Kollins over to the hillside where I grew up. I sit her at the edge of the hayfield and let tears roll down my face. I think of all the times we jumped hay bales, rode four-wheelers, battled ghost runners, and I think of all the lessons Momma taught us. I long for Kollins to know that life and her grandmother. Because I know it isn’t possible for Kollins to know my momma, I work hard to make sure I am a good momma and that Kollins is taken care of and loved. Now I understand the way Momma loved me, and I pray Kollins will be able to see how much I love her.
Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Psalms 37: 4
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