Geronimo......

It started out innocent enough, a discussion of "Bucket Lists" over Christmas Eve dinner.  Sam, Chelsea, Zachary and me, all had something in common.... skydiving. 
The next thing you know, someone has the great idea that we should all jump together.  Then we started looking at dates and before you knew it, we had all agreed to skydive together during the Summer of 2011.  YIKES!

Truth be told, I think one of us certainly thought we would come to our senses and find the reason that this couldn't happen.... it never did. 

Before you knew it Zachary had made the reservations, Chelsea had taken off work, I had planned a trip to Georgia accompanied by Aunt Beck and we were at the point of no return.

Zack had kept the heat on through the winter and spring, this would be a Rumsey family outing that none of us would ever forget.  We encouraged each other and by the time Aunt Beck and I arrived in Clayton we were all psyched for the big jump.

Now Aunt Beck had no intention of jumping, but she also had no intention of missing out on our jump.  We arrived on Wednesday and scheduled the jump for Friday, July 22nd. 

The focus of Thursday was to convince daddy and Donna to go with us for the jump.  Both of them had been clear, they had no desire to join us, had no desire to see us jump and thought we were all stupid for considering the jump.

Aunt Beck on the other hand made it clear, she couldn't wait to see us jump and if she were 20 years younger she would be jumping with us.

Friday morning arrived, bright and early Sam, Chelsea and Zack picked us up for the drive to our jump site.  Nervous energy was obvious, chit chat and excitement filled the car.

The drive to our jump site was almost 3 hours, we would be stuck in the car for 3 hours taunting each other along the way.

The closer we got to the jump site, the quieter Zack and I got.  We are the most "talkative" of the family and our nerves manifested through our silence.  You would have never known if Sam and Chelsea were nervous as they continued with their enthusiastic banter.

Finally, our car filled with thrill seekers ventured off the main road and into a pasture.  A pasture with a small landing strip, wind sock and metal building.  Gravel driveway, rolling hills and the gentle hum of a single engine airplane completed the scene. 

Once we checked in we began the process of signing our life away.  Basically the documents we signed said we could not hold our hosts responsible for a hang-nail, much less a 10,000 ft fall to our demise!

We watched with excitement the videos of other jumpers and sized up the other jumpers in our vicinity.  Hey that guy over there is at least 70, if he can do it I can do it...right!?!?!?

Two things made me the most nervous and both of them had to do with Sam.  First, my weight.  The website stated loud and clear that if you were over a certain weight you had to pay more to jump.  I knew if I hit that weight limit, my loving brother would never let me forget it.

The second thing that had me nervous was the weather.  The website also said that if the weather were clear and pretty you could extend your jump, from 10,000 feet to 14,500 feet.  I knew Sam would go for the higher limit if possible.

We step up the counter, Sam first, he weighs and I will not say what happened.  Then the rep told him that the weather was beautiful and that was all it took for Sam.... here was the extra $10 to get him up to 14,500. 

I stepped up on the scale and held my breath, hallelujah blessed Mary and Joseph, I was under the weight limit!  (Seriously, I don't know how and I know I wouldn't do it today, so don't judge!)  I think I was so excited about making the weight that I didn't even argue about the extra 4500 feet.

Now it was time to meet the person who would be strapped to my back with my life in their hands.  I had a nice guy, mid-20s who had jumped numerous times in the past.  He was no-nonsense and wasn't really interested in hearing the fears of a fat dude that is old enough to be his dad.

Chelsea, who had flirted with all the instructors, and enjoyed their flirting in return got Woody for her instructor.  Woody was a  super nice guy, about my age who appeared to have enjoyed the 70's A LOT!

Flights were called and Zack and Sam were on the first flight, Chelsea and I on the second.  Nervously waiting for our turn to take to the skies, Chelsea and I enjoyed watching Sam and Zack float to the ground.

Now it was time, we loaded into the plane and prepared for our jump.  The instructors had given us our instructions, the videographer was filming the trip and it was now or never. 

We climbed to our jump level and my instructor moved me to the door.  I was standing in the door of an airplane looking out over 2 miles off the ground and suddenly, every nervous moment I had disappeared, I was ready.

Seconds later, I was falling through the sky at 120 mph and loving every second of it!  We did flips and I have never felt as free in my life. 

After just 75 seconds the free fall was over, my instructor motioned me that we were going up and within seconds we were jerked up into the heavens and now we floated.... floated through the clouds and skies. 

As we floated I could see the beautiful Georgia landscape and then I could see Chelsea floating through the skies as well.

As quickly as it all began, I could now see our landing spot, I could see Sam and Zack and Aunt Beck all cheering us down.

That day I felt alive, it was amazing to face this incredible fear and conquer it.  Sometimes you need to do something that may not be your smartest move in life, but it's just needed... for me skydiving was just that.

I now look at other items on my bucket list and see them as things I WILL do instead of things I would like to do.... big difference.

Friends ask me, would you do it again?  The answer is yes, I would do it again, but I don't HAVE to do it again. 

I'm so happy I did it and even more happy that I did it with my family.... it was a jump I will never forget!

Charmed...

There are certain possessions that we all have in life that mean much more to us than their value.  Items that "in a fire" you would grab. 

Besides Lita, I have a few things I would try to save in case of an emergency.....  the framed baby outfit I wore home from the hospital when I was born, a quilt made from my parents clothes when they were children both of which were Christmas gifts from mama and daddy.

I would try to grab family photos and my "important documents" box, but before any of those other "things" in my life (excluding Lita) I would reach for the charm bracelets.

In my living room, in a special place of honor are two framed charm bracelets, costume jewelry that means more to me than anyone else.  These charm bracelets belonged to mama and ma-ma.

When I was a very young child I used to spend a lot of time with ma-ma and gramps.  We had kind of a routine that included continuous pampering and exploration of my imagination and creative personality. 

Ma-ma was the perfect homemaker, she could bake, cook, clean, sew, garden, arrange flowers, craft, she could do it all and she loved having a little one tugging at her apron strings offering to "help."  I love pulling those apron stings, so we were a perfect pair!

One of my favorite things to do with ma-ma was to have her tell me stories,  stories from the charm bracelet. 

Ma-ma's charm bracelet was gold and from my childhood memory it had what seemed like hundreds of charms.  Each charm held a significance, the sewing machine, the thimble, a head for each child and grandchild, a replica of her brother's Bronze Star, Virginia, Puerto Rico, Florida;  all remembrances of trips taken through the years. 

For a young boy filled with an unquenchable imagination, that bracelet and the stories that were told about each charm could entertain for hours.

Many years later, when ma-ma died, I knew there was one thing I really wanted, I wanted that bracelet.  I hadn't seen it in years and when I mentioned it no one knew where it was. 

Through the days of purging ma-ma's belongings someone found the charm bracelet and gave it to me.  As an adult, it wasn't as impressive as it was when I was a child, you could see some of the charms were missing and it was tarnished, but just seeing that bracelet brought back a flood of memories and times spent with my grandmother that I would never be able to replace. 

Mama's bracelet was different.  Mama's bracelet was silver and only had 5 charms on it... one for daddy, one for Tom, one for Sam, one for me and one for herself.  Four male heads and one female.

On the front of each charm our name and birth date was engraved.  On the back of Tom's was his death date.

Somewhere through the years mama lost her charm bracelet she would mention it from time to time and how much it meant to her. 

One year, when I was about 16, I knew exactly what I wanted to give mama for Christmas.  I had worked all summer and saved some money and knew that this would be the year I was able to give her the special gift.

When we open our Christmas gifts each year, we try and hold one back for the grand finale as we know it is going to be the "special gift" for that year.  This was my first year able to give the "special" gift. 

I planned for weeks, I got mama's gift, I made sure everything was perfect and on Christmas Eve, I proudly put that gift under the tree. 

As we unwrapped the gifts my excitement built and for the first time, this year the excitement really wasn't for what I was receiving, but what I was giving.

When the time finally came and all the gifts but one were opened, I proudly handed mama her beautifully wrapped package.  I sat nervously beside her and as she unwrapped the package, our small family watched in anticipation.

When the package was opened, there it lay a silver charm bracelet, just like the one she had year's before.  Five heads, each engraved, a simple gift that meant more to my mama and I than any expensive gadget could.  To this day, the most special gift I have ever given anyone.

Mama and I both cried.

Through the years mama wore that bracelet everywhere and she made sure not to lose it.  She added three more heads through the years, Donna, Chelsea and Zack. 

When mama passed, there was one thing I wanted.  Before I left Clayton on my way back to Florida after that horrible/wonderful week, I went to mama's jewelry box and collected the charm bracelet.

Not long after I got my grandmother's bracelet, I decided to have it framed.  I lived in Atlanta at the time and had a friend who was a framer, he made sure that it got the attention it deserved and did a beautiful job with the presentation. 

After mama died it took me almost a year to have her bracelet framed.  It hurt too much to think about finalizing it and putting the bracelet behind glass. 

Finally, as the 1 year anniversary of mama's death approached I took it out and went to my local framer.  I carried ma-ma's bracelet with me to show the framer what I wanted. 

Thankfully, the framer saw the importance of this project and gave it his attention and dedication.  We picked out a frame that complimented ma-ma's.  After finally, pulling together the strength to take the bracelet to the framer, I waited with nervous anticipation for it to be completed.

When I got the call that my frame was completed, I went to pick it up with excitement.  When I saw the frame opened, again I cried, just like the first time I saw it opened and just like the first time, I knew my mama was right beside me admiring the bracelet as well.

Today those two bracelets sit in a place of honor in my living room.  On a small table, two pieces of costume jewelry that mean the world to me.

Bucket List

Life is filled with day to day, the mundane challenges that consume us.  While we move through these day to day hurdles the mind has a funny way of adding new challenges to our psyche.

I like to think these challenges created in our minds are part of our bucket lists... the things we aspire to before we move on to our next life.   Bucket lists are funny things, they are often very personal, private, sometimes far fetched, sometimes simple... always individual.

My bucket list is extremely diverse, I want to attend the Winter Olympics, I want to sing a song on a Broadway stage, I want to visit Australia and scuba dive on the Great Barrier Reef.  I want to hike the Grand Canyon, walk the red carpet at the Academy Awards and publish a novel.... like I said, diverse. These are just a few of the items on my "list."

I admire people who check off things on their list, my niece Chelsea has really done an amazing job of checking off items on her list.  Some things are easier than others to check off, some just take the nerve to make it happen, sometimes you just need a good kick in the pants to say... go for it... that is the stage in my life that I find myself.

As a middle aged, overweight, bald man it is easy to sit back and let life pass you by.  Work is great, I love my house, have amazing friends and family, enjoy my position as Vice-Mayor and find myself watching life pass me by.  It is time for a quick kick in the butt.... this Friday that kick will happen.

Over the winter, Zack, Chelsea, Sam and I were having a conversation and realized that sky-diving is on all our bucket lists.  Sky-diving... 47 years old, overweight, bald.... life passing me by... yep, that sounds like the perfect kick in the butt that I need.

During our initial conversation back in the winter we decided to jump together, a family outing.  Reservations have been made and good Lord willing, this Friday, July 22nd, I will step out of a plane with a perfect stranger strapped to my back and float through the heavens and safely down to earth. 

Skydiving... ok, sure I could have made reservations to go to the US Figure Skating Championships, yes, that is on the list.  I could have taken scuba lessons, yes, that is on the list.  I could have spent an entire weekend riding roller coasters, yes that's on the list too.... HOWEVER, would any of those things been the kick in the butt that this middle aged, bald, overweight guy needs to get out and stop letting life pass me by... I don't think so.

It's time and I hope this leap of faith will help change my psyche.

As I have told my friends about the jump, many have looked at me in disbelief.  Some have questioned my mental capacity to manage my own life moving forward, others have just looked at me like I am crazy and some have even come right out and called me crazy.  I have heard story after story of how my friend's neighbors, uncle's, wife was sucked up into a cloud and never seen again after she jumped. 

I admit it, sky-diving may not be the smartest thing in the world to be doing.  But is letting life pass me by any better?   I don't think so, I think it is time for a good kick in the butt, it's time to live a little and cross off a MAJOR item on the bucket list.

Elivs has left the building...

Often times we mark the seasons of our lives by where we were when history happens.  I wasn't born when JFK was shot, but daddy tells the story of walking across the lawn of Wilcox County High School and hearing the news.

Mama was at home sick on the day Reagan was shot, she called the school to let Mrs. Snyder know, who passed on the word to the Principal who passed it on to us. 

I was in Mrs. Weatherly's class when Frank D. Smith died, he was my Elementary School Principal and beloved by so many.

I stood in the living room of my friend Pam Suttle's apartment in Statesboro, GA as we watched the Space Shuttle blow up killing all on board.  We left the television to go to an Editorial Writing class, where our instructor Ernie made us write an editorial memorializing the astronauts.  I thought the assignment was unfair at the time, not much later I realized that was the job of the editorialist, a lesson I learned when I least expected it.

I was on a bus returning from a band competition when I heard about Belushi's OD.  I was recovering from foot surgery when I heard about Versace and later Princess Diana.  Eating dinner when Michael Jackson died. 

I was in the break room of Carey Limousine when the OJ verdict was announced.  I was in Centennial Park just hours before the bomb went off and on the phone with mama when the first plane hit the Twin Towers.

These moments of our lives are ingrained and for some reason we know exactly where we were and what we were doing when we first heard the news. 

During the Summer of 1977, I was 13 years old and preparing to go into 7th grade.  The sleepy days of August were about to be turned upside down by a scream from Becky Ramey, a scream that was echoed around the globe.... "ELVIS IS DEAD!"

Becky was the Rogers' baby-sitter.  Today, Becky would be called the nanny;  back then she was the baby  sitter while Mr. and Mrs. Rogers were at work. 

On that late August afternoon, Becky's scream echoed through our quiet neighborhood creating a frenzy of activity that would continue for several days.

I didn't realize Elvis was such a big deal, I knew he was a singer and all, but really within minutes of the announcement that he had died, grown women and some men started acting like a close relative had been lost. 

Television news showed scenes of grieving fans from around the world mourning.... especially in Memphis, Graceland, the home of Elvis.

Little did I know how soon that mourning would hit home.  When Becky left that afternoon she didn't return for almost a week.  She returned after making her pilgrimage to Graceland for the Elvis funeral.

Becky's mother was a HUGE Elvis fan and his death was especially hard for her, so that night she and some friends along with Becky took off for Memphis for the King's funeral. 

The pilgrimage continued as Gracie, our friend from south Georgia, along with her friends showed up at our house late that night.  There for a stop over, long enough to get a quick night's sleep before moving on to Graceland. 

As the days continued hundreds of thousands of people from around the World descended on Memphis.  Television cameras were trained on the action as huge lines formed to view the casket.  Television cameras carried the funeral and burial, it was all Elvis all the time.

After the funeral and burial, the throngs left the King behind, returning to their homes with a heavy heart.  We heard stories from those who went to Graceland about how moving it was.

The pillars of the fence surrounding his home was covered with written condolences, written in magic marker or chalk, fans just wanted to leave their mark on the event.

Somewhere on that fence there are notes from Rochelle and Clayton, GA, I have no idea what they say, but I can tell you they were left by women who loved their Elvis and were broken hearted when he died. 

The summer of 1977, one of those moments I will always remember where I was.  The summer when Elvis left the building for good.

Things my daddy taught me....

It's Father's Day weekend and as the day rolls around it makes me think back on things my daddy has taught me through life. 

As with most father's daddy taught me respect, honor, pride and love.  In addition to those normal lessons in life he taught me a lot more too, on Father's Day I like to look back on those things....

A look is more powerful than words  Growing up daddy had a "look" that you never wanted to see.  It was stern, solid and unflinching.  The look said more than words ever could.  The look would tell you to sit down, keep your mouth shut and pay attention.  The look would say, don't ever let me see you do that again.  The look would ask, what did you say?  You did NOT answer the look!

As I have grown older I have perfected the look.  I use it in business, I use it in my political life, I use it with the neighbor kids, I use it with my staff.  I try to be selective in my use of the look and only pull it out when absolutely necessary, but when I want to make sure my point is perfectly clear, I just remember a lesson from my daddy and give the look.

Some sugar is sweeter than others.  All my life I have heard my daddy tell people to "give me some sugar."  I learned long ago he wasn't talking about the white stuff you put in tea, but he was talking about a kiss.  Usually a kiss on the cheek, but it could mean a hug or both.  There is nothing better than a hug and kiss from a friend or loved one.  To my ears, give me some sugar is the ultimate compliment!

Family First.  I don't think that lesson is anything out of the ordinary for most people, but my daddy lived that motto on a daily basis.  After Tom died our family could have been torn apart, daddy made sure we weren't. 

On more than one occasion I heard my daddy make the comment, "I have already lost one, I won't lose another one."  By that I think he meant that he would fight for us and make sure that we did not leave the "family."  He would fight our enemies and protect us whenever needed to keep us together.  That role model is something that we all take with us in our family.  We may bicker and argue, but when it comes down to it we are family and will not be torn apart.

Woman's work is just.... work  Daddy used to joke that cooking and cleaning was "woman's work."  Early on in my life I learned that woman's work is just... work. 

Mama was sick and hospitalized a lot when I was young.  The wreck, the hospitalization after Tom died, migraines, she was sick a lot.  Early on, daddy learned to cook and clean and keep a perfect house.  When mama was sick that didn't mean we ate out, it meant we all chipped in and cooked dinner.  Daddy is one of the best cooks I have ever known, the only thing my mama could ever cook that he couldn't match was biscuits, so to make up for it we had a lot of cornbread.

Long before the women's movement, long before stay at home dads, long before Mr. Mom, there was Ray Rumsey.  A clean house, excellent meals, perfectly washed clothes, organized birthday parties and all the other typical "woman's work" chores around the house became just work in our house.  He was a trend setter long before it was considered cool, in our house it was just necessity.

A chicken ain't nothing but a bird.   Daddy has always has a way with words, but this is one of my favorites... a chicken ain't nothing but a bird.  Whenever I have been afraid to try something I have heard it.  Seven simple words that are very powerful. 

When you take the fear out of life it makes everything possible.  There is no room for being a chicken, after all a chicken ain't nothing but a bird.

Life lessons aren't taught in books.  Daddy was a school teacher and football coach.  He still teaches and coaches today, not in the formal sense but the life sense. 

Daddy taught 12th grade American Government.  I'm not sure we ever opened a text book during his class, but the life lessons that were taught in that class far outweigh any chapter and verse on the Constitution or rules of Congress than we could have ever been quizzed on.

Don't ever do anything to embarrass your mama.  I have mentioned this one many times in this blog.  It was the basis of my life and I still carry it with me today.  The greatest lesson my daddy ever taught me, because it was the hardest to live up to.

My daddy is an interesting character, someone who has touched the lives of many, someone who has always taught and someone who overflows with love.  I'm lucky and proud to call him my daddy.

Happy Father's Day.... I love you!

Through Thick and Thin

Bert has Ernie, Abbot has Costello, Oprah has Gayle and Felix has Oscar..... I have Andrew, my best friend.

I have known Andrew most of my life, he is a year younger than me and we were casual friends as youngsters, that all changed around 13 or 14.  I remember we were at the Halloween Carnival in the old Rabun County High School butler building and for some reason we ended up hanging out together that night. 

A lifetime friendship was born.....

From that day forward Andrew has been like a brother to me, I seek his opinion, his advice, when something good happens I want to share it with him and in tough times I know he will be there.

As we grew up, Andrew became a part of my family and I his; Dr. Pete and Janie were my second mother and father, Ray and Martha were his.  We were usually at one house or the other.

Andrew was with us on family vacations, I rushed the field of the Sugar Bowl with Andrew when Georgia won its one and only National Football Championship.  We have raced down ski slopes, sprayed each other with water skis and shared bottles of Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill together. 

Sadly as I graduated from High School and the following year Andrew graduated, we lost contact.  I blame myself for losing contact with my best friend.  Through those years we both grew up a lot and went our different directions. 

Good and bad times for each of us, difficult times that the other could have helped with and unfortunately we weren't there.  I know I missed so much of Andrew's life and I will always regret that, but even when we were separated I kept up with him and I know he kept up with me.  Even apart, we were part of each other's lives. 

Over the last seven or eight years Andrew and I started to reconnect.  Slowly at first and then with more frequency.  I met his wife, his kids and his family came to Florida for vacation and we were able to reconnect.

From the moment we reconnected it was as if we never were apart, conversations flowed effortlessly.

Now I am happy to say we speak often, while we don't see each other as often as I would like we are part of each other's lives now.... I am immensely thankful for that.

When mama died, I told Andrew that he didn't have to travel back and forth from Atlanta for the viewing and funeral and he said to me "she was like my mama too."  Yes she was and I was incredibly thankful that Andrew was there with us.

Best friends are a funny connection, we may part but thankfully we come back.  Best friends are chosen not assigned, I am thankful that I chose a smart, funny, dedicated man who has become an amazing father, husband and businessman, I am thankful for Andrew.

Back in the Kitchen....

Obviously it has been a while since I blogged.  I don't know why, I have been busy, haven't had anything to write about, lacking focus.... who knows.

As much as I enjoy writing I just haven't had the inspiration to do so.  Today is Easter, a season of new beginnings.... maybe I will find inspiration in the season.

To catch up to date..  I have the best job I have ever had in my life, I LOVE being the Director of Marketing for Downtown at the Gardens.  This is the most challenging, rewarding, difficult job I have ever had and I look forward to going to work every day.

I wish I could say the same for my political life....  since our election last March, two new Commissioners have joined the dais.  One I can work with, although we don't agree much of the time, he is open to compromise.  The other one... well let me just say she is a mix of Michelle Bachman, Sarah Palin, Glen Beck and every other know it all politician you can think of.  She does not understand that LEADERS lead by finding common ground, not just demanding their way.  It is extremely frustrating.  My role on the commission has also changed, I am now Vice-Mayor, it is rewarding and interesting.

Daddy has been in Florida for the winter and I have been able to spend some time with him.  He leaves for Georgia this Friday after we celebrate our birthdays together on Thursday.  He will be 80.....80.  He has good days and bad, his health is still good, although he is still trying to mend a broken heart.

Ironically Facebook has become a major part of my life... I use it for work a lot, but the true reward for me with Facebook has been reconnecting with so many old friends and family members that I have lost touch with.... it is very special to know what you all are up to.

So that's where I am for now.... working hard, enjoying amazing friends and family and for the most part in a good space.

I have a story brewing around in my mind that I need to get down on paper, not a blog post but something longer.  Childhood best friends, brought back together by chance who find out that it isn't their commonality that is most important but their differences that make their relationship special. Hopefully I will get around to it soon.

Stay with me on the blog, I am going to make an effort to get back with you soon........

New Year, New Dreams...

When I was younger my dreams were simple, I wanted it all.  I wanted to be rich, I wanted to be famous.  I wanted to star on Broadway, win a Tony award and then make my move to Hollywood and films win my first Oscar for a Supporting Role and then my Second for a Leading Role.

I wanted to travel the world.  Paris, Moscow, Sydney, Barcelona, Rio.  When I was young I wanted to be Brian Boitano.  I wanted to win the Lottery, be obscenely rich and never work a day in my life.

My fantasies and dreams of youth were simple... I wanted it all!  My bet is that many of you shared the same dreams (OK, probably not the Brian Boitano part!) Our dreams of youth were usually self-indulgent and not very practical. 

As I grow older I find that my hopes and dreams are not so much about me anymore, not about "things," or fame or money.  My dreams are more complex, my hopes smaller in scope, I venture to guess that my dreams of youth may have been easier to achieve.

My 2011 Wish list of Dreams.....

1. grace for those I disagree with, to those in need and those who are hurting
2. to continue loving my job
3. health and prosperity for those I love
4. time management skills
5. continue to reconnect with the people who slipped out of my life through the years
6. peace of mind
7. one more family dinner with mama
8. fit into 32" waist jeans
9. more time to spend with my friends
10. a cure for AIDS
11. for Chelsea and Zack to never suffer and always have a life filled with happiness
12. play in the snow
13. learn to scuba dive
14. dive the Great Barrier Reef
15. be able to eat pizza and pasta and burgers and fried foods and not gain weight or damage my health
16. attend the Winter Olympics
17. walk the Red Carpet at the Oscars
18. walk down the beach without a shirt and know I look good
19. play with Lita everyday
20. our Politicians start concentrating more on what is right for our country and not how they can benefit themselves
21. buy a new sofa
22. have something I have written published
23. Sam and Donna to LOVE the empty nest
24. continue to be touched, challenged and ministered to by Pastor Kent and Pastor Jen
25. Georgia Bulldog football to be king again
26. daddy to have peace of mind
27. no world suffering
28. growth in my faith
29. dedicate an hour each day to writing
30. no drama
31. use my elected office for good
32. be there for my friends and family
33. lively political debates with my brother
34. remodel my kitchen
35. laugh every day
36. continued financial responsibility
37. Snookie and the Situation to get a job
38. economic prosperity return to our country
39. be there for my family
40. learn math
41. enjoy biking
42. lose 35 pounds
43. volunteer more
44. worship in a completed sanctuary at my Church
45. own a summer home on top of a mountain in Asheville, NC
46. bipartisanship
47. paint the interior of my house (OK, have it painted)
48. study and grow in The Bible
49. be a dependable friend
50. inspire
51. sing on a Broadway stage
52. the naivete of youth
53. write the story that is in my head
54. don't waste a single moment
55. end every conversation with "I love you"
56. a backyard pool
57. go to the movies more
58. love life
59. hug at least one person every day
60. go on another road trip with Aunt Beck
61. be spontaneous
62. think before I speak
63. be a better person today than yesterday and tomorrow than today
64. swim
65. restart the Friday afternoon front yard gatherings with my neighbors
66. challenge myself physically
67. Simon, Paula and Randy all come back to American Idol as the only judges
68. eat healthy
69. be more patient with little stuff
70. do something I have never done before at least once per month
71. cook
72. realize that being right is not always best
73. trust
74. celebrate small victories
75. do a better job of updating my blog
76. say thank you
77. an end to war
78. praise God daily
79. enjoy life
80. work hard and play hard
81. honor the legacy that has been given me by my parents and brother
82. take weekend trips
83. children no longer suffer
84. honor the attempt
85. go to concerts
86. get my hands in the dirt more working in my yard
87. age gracefully
88. be active in my TAG group
89. learn to say "no" when I should
90. be fair
91. honor the elderly
92. stand up for what I believe in
93. write notes and send them in the mail, not just email
94. get pampered occasionally
95. don't always do it alone, assign responsibilities and expect them to be completed
96. hike
97. talk to daddy every day, talk to Sam at least once a week and talk to Aunt Beck once a week
98. make others feel special
99. live my faith
100. love.

Like I said, the dreams of youth are easier to obtain.  I pray that in 2011 you find happiness, health and prosperity, but most of all I pray you are filled with love.

My Christmas Wish for You.....

Christmas will be different this year.  The first Christmas without the matriarch of my family, the one who taught us the joy of Christmas, the one who still enjoyed a visit from Santa as much as anyone else, even when her youngest child was 45 years old.

This year we will be without mama, definitely a sad marker since her death.  As sad as the "first" Christmas will be,  it also provides us with a challenge to fully celebrate the joy of Christmas the way she taught us since childhood. 

This morning in Church I was swept away by the music of the season, beautiful glorious music celebrating the birth of our Savior.  Suddenly it dawned on me, this will be mama's first year with the angels of heaven celebrating the miracle of that first Christmas.  This year as we set one less place at the table, our family of angels sets one more, what a glorious feast that will be!

This year, not only in December, but through the year, the spirit of Christmas has engulfed me in ways that I have never felt before.  As I think back on the past months, since that day in late February when my life changed, an overwhelming feeling of joy and gratitude fills my soul.

From the friends who selflessly gave their time to clean my house, replant my flower beds and stock my fridge and cabinets while I was away, I see the spirit of giving that we are taught as children, a selfless act that goes with me every day.

Phone calls that came out of the blue, phone calls from friends and family just to let me know they were thinking of me.  In my world, those calls were like the angels of heaven announcing the good news, they were pick-me-ups letting me know that the dark days will pass.

I was taught from an early age that the spirit of Christmas is more about the promise of the new life than it is about gifts, trees and tinsel.  This year, more than any other I have found myself thinking about that "new life." 

A new life that moves forward without my most important influence.  A life that moves forward without my "light."

This year as I think about the sadness that could take over my Christmas season, I have decided to celebrate the lessons I was taught since childhood and the joy that will help me move forward.

I will remember my 5th Christmas.  The year I got a Big Wheel.  The Big Wheel I literally wore the tires off of.  That was the year that Tom and Sam helped their little brother find the freedom of adventure with my own "wheels", a sense of adventure that I still have today as an adult.

This year, I will think back to my 6th Christmas, the year that ma-ma fell down our steps and broke her arm, that was the year that my cousin Melissa and I went out into the woods to build a "garden" in a pie pan to make ma-ma feel better.  That was the year I learned about compassion, I have certainly felt that compassion this year and hope that I have been able to return the favor.

Or my 7th Christmas when Larry McClure showed up to our house and scared a little boy to tears when the Santa "impostor" showed up MUCH earlier than he should have.  This year, I know in my soul that any "impostors" have been removed from my life.  I have found a peace in faith that I never knew before, a faith that carries me not only through darkness but also through the joy of light!

When I was in my early teens we had Christmas a week early, that was because Sam was working on an oil rig that year and would be away from home on Christmas day.  I hated that year and am glad that we never had another Christmas apart.  That was the year that I learned the importance of family, just being in the same room, somehow takes away some of the pressures from the outside world and provides a feeling of warmth that can't be realized elsewhere.

Then there were the years when our family grew.  The years we got Donna, then Chelsea and Zack, these are the years that I learned there is an endless ability to love.  Room for my heart to grow and welcome new people into my life.

We have had more Christmases than I can count that were uneventful, but always filled with laughter and sometimes tears.  We were taught that the Christmas spirit is about family, it is about the laughter, the tears, the togetherness.  No doubt we will find that same spirit under our tree this year as well.

Mama started a tradition years ago when Chelsea and Zack were very young.  Once they got old enough to read they would open up an old "pop-up" book and read the Christmas story to our family.  I hope this year, those same young adults will continue that tradition, knowing that the real meaning of Christmas lies in the words of the story, not in the packages under the tree.

This year, I have seen the spirit of Christmas all year long, in big and small ways, in ways I could never imagine.   Maybe it is because I am getting older and those simple gestures mean more.  Maybe it is because of the loss of mama, or maybe it is because of the lessons I have learned along the way.  The lessons I was taught by my bright star, a mother who taught the best gifts at Christmas are those shared with family. 

My Christmas wish  for each of you is the joy of the season, the light of simple gestures and the creation of memories and traditions that will comfort you into the future.

I wish you peace, I wish you love and I wish you happiness.  With a full heart of gratitude this Christmas I will remember the past, but also look to the future hoping for new memories of the true meaning of Christmas.

Embrace those you love, hold them close and make sure they know just how important they are.  Those people who touch your lives each day, the friend, co-worker, neighbor and family member, share the spirit of the season with them and as we move forward just imagine how great our futures would be if we carried that Christmas spirit year round.

My Christmas wish for you is love, grace and joy.

With love and gratitude, Merry Christmas to you all!

Aunt Beck

We all have one, a favorite Aunt or Uncle, favorite cousin, for me that is my Aunt Beck. 

Aunt Beck is mama's older sister by just a couple of years.  The two of them were very close, which may explain my connection to her.  Aunt Beck turned 80 this month, a milestone worthy of celebration and a milestone worthy of reflection.

In many ways Aunt Beck and I are very similar.  We are the children who flew the coop, moved away from home and settled on the beach.  We connect through the sand between our toes. 

As a child some of my fondest memories were of Aunt Beck's house in the Summer or on Spring Break.  Our family would pile into the stationwagon and take off for a week at the beach, a week at Aunt Beck's house.

Now, the house we were visiting wasn't only Aunt Beck's, Uncle Larry and Melissa lived there too, a dog or hamster was often included in the mix. 

Aunt Beck has lived in Fernandina Beach, Florida for all of her adult life.  She and Uncle Larry moved there not long after they were married. 

For me, Fernandina Beach was paradise, little did I know that until the fancy people found it in the 80's that it really wasn't all the rage until a name change made it Amelia Island.  Mama used to joke with her friends that we had been going to Amelia Island before anyone even knew what Amelia Island was.

Aunt Beck, Uncle Larry and Melissa had a quiet house, everything neat and put away in its place.  That was until the Rumsey clan would arrive with three boys, insatiable appetites and a boisterous energy that was difficult to tame. 

We would visit Aunt Beck a couple of times each year, wreaking havoc on her peaceful existence each time we came. 

Two or three times each year, Aunt Beck, Uncle Larry and Melissa would make their way to God's Country for a visit.  You could almost see the culture shock on their faces when they arrived and soon realized they had left the melodic symphony of the ocean for the hectic chaos found on Old Buncomb Road. 

They usually stayed with Ma- ma  and Gramps when they came, about 30 miles from our house.  I think they probably needed a safe place to retreat to. 

Our visits to Aunt Beck's house were for the beach.  When Aunt Beck and her family came to God's Country it was usually for the visits to those "cute little shops on Main Street." 

Mama and Aunt Beck loved going in and out of the shops on Main Street when she came.  The same shops that mama only occasionally would walk into during the rest of the year would become a magnetic force for mama and Aunt Beck during those visits. 

Aunt Beck has always held a special place in my heart.  Her dry sense of humor, devilish grin and zest for life are what attracts me. 

As I have grown from childhood to adult life, Aunt Beck has become a force in my life.  When I was thinking of moving to Florida, she was one of the people I spoke with. 

My concern was that I wouldn't be able to be home when I "needed" to be there if I lived 12 hours away.  Aunt Beck assured me that if I were to be happy in MY life I needed to follow my dreams and that the rest would take care of itself.  She was right.

Aunt Beck is the person who guided me through my first few holidays away from home, and she was a role model for me to see how you can create a "Florida family" while never forgetting your real family. 

When Aunt Beck married Uncle Larry she .....GASP.... left the Baptist Church and became a Methodist.  During my search for faith, I did the same.  Aunt Beck helped me realize it isn't about the family tradition of a denomination.  It isn't about what faith you grew up in, what it is about is the path of faith you grow into.

After I moved to Florida, Aunt Beck and Uncle Larry continued their visits to God's country.  Melissa was now married with her own children and Aunt Beck and Uncle Larry were now traveling to help take care of Ma-ma and Gramps as they made their long journey to heaven. 

After ma-ma and gramps passed, not long after Uncle Larry's health began to fail and he passed before Christmas just a few years ago.

When it came time for me to make my next visit to God's Country, I asked Aunt Beck if she would like to go with me.  Her house was almost perfectly half way in a 12 hour drive.  Aunt Beck accepted my invitation to ride with me and this began a whole new adventure in our relationship.

I picked her up just off the I95 exit.  Ground rules were set from the very first trip.... meet me at McDonald's just off of 95.  I will drop you off at the same location on the way home.  For the most part that has been our routine for several years now.

The other rule I set was, don't go to sleep and talk to me while we drive.  I can assure you THAT rule has NEVER been broken!

From the time Aunt Beck sits down in the passenger seat until we arrive in God's Country we talk.  We talk about anything and everything.  She kids me and I kid her, she knows that we will stop 2 maybe 3 times tops on the road.  She doesn't complain she just makes sure to take care of everything during these brief stops.

Driving up the road Aunt Beck tells me stories about the good ole days when she and mama were in High School.  How their circle of friends used to congregate at my grandparents house and how Gramps would pile all their friends into his car and take them places.

We have talked about faith and Church news and business more than most people I have ever spoken to.  Sometimes we even talk politics.

Several years ago, after mama's health began to fade Aunt Beck made a comment driving up the road, "Ken, once ma-ma and gramps started getting sick I always made sure I took all the clothes I may need for a visit because you just never know."  In that very instant I knew exactly what she was saying and it was in that instant that I began to prepare myself for the inevitable loss of mama.  Since that trip I always make sure to have "all the clothes I may need" because you just never know.

In February when we knew mama was making her final journey home, I called Aunt Beck at 11AM and told her I would be picking her up at 5, she was ready and in the car.  We didn't talk as much on that trip, I assume for fear that we would both breakdown, but we did talk about the important stuff.

During that final week in Georgia, Aunt Beck was there every step of the way and she was the one who alerted us all that mama was gone..... I think mama planned it that way.

The trip back to Florida after mama passed was difficult, in many ways even harder than the drive up.  On the way back we talked a lot about mama and the week we had just lived through, about mama's service, we talked about daddy and Sam and the grandkids and Donna, we talked about everyone. 

We talked about how hard it would be not to be able to pick up the phone and talk to mama, after all Aunt Beck had been through it already.  We talked about birthdays, anniversaries, holidays and just regular days and how they would be hard.  But we also talked about the memories that we would carry with us, the memories that would make us smile and the memories that would bring a warmth to the heart. 

When Aunt Beck got out of my car that day, I cried, she cried.  There was no way to hold back the tears, they were going to come and we both knew it, the thing I didn't know would happen was that when I got back in my car to finish my drive home I had a strong sense of peace, I reflected on memories and my heart grew warm.  Aunt Beck has a knack for teaching big lessons without ever trying, she did it again on that day.

In June I decided I was going to God's Country for Father's Day.  It was my first visit home since mama passed and when I decided to go I invited Aunt Beck to go, she said yes.  I was dreading the trip and I think she was too, but we both knew one trip had to be the first, so it may as well be now. 

As usual we got into the car and took off.  Since the first time Aunt Beck rode to God's Country with me, she has talked about how pretty the backroads are through Georgia.  I am not the kind of guy who likes the back roads, I want to get on the Interstate and go, she likes to take her time and enjoy the scenery.

On this trip Aunt Beck threw down the ultimate guilt trip.  "I would love to go on those back roads just one more time, this may be my last trip and I sure would love to see that pretty scenery."  I insisted that I was NOT going on the back roads.  For the next three hours I insisted that I wasn't going on the back roads until we reached Statesboro, Ga and she broke me.

I got off the interstate and made my way through Statesboro.  I hadn't been there since I graduated college and thought it would be fun to reminisce for a bit.  We drove into town, I showed her my college dorm and then we got onto the main road that I thought would take us home.

We were now on those back roads that she had longed for, I was going 35 mph and losing my patience, plus I was getting lost.  We drove around in circles for about an hour until we finally got onto the road that we both agreed was the right road for us to be traveling during this excursion into the back roads of Georgia. 

The trip home was about 2 hours longer than it should have been, but we saw cotton fields and antebellum houses.  We saw the Wal-Mart that Aunt Beck and Uncle Larry used to always stop at on their journeys up and down the road.  We reminisced and stepped back in time on those old 2 lane roads through Georgia.

Our visit home was much better than either of us expected, it was a wonderful family visit, it was hard without mama being there but it was our new normal and I am glad Aunt Beck was there to be a part of it.

Aunt Beck has lived 80 years, she has accomplished a lot in that time.  She has kept that devilish grin and dry sense of humor for all these years.  She has nurtured, she has loved and she has taught.  Aunt Beck has become more important to me each and every year, I love her and wish for many more trips together to God's Country.  Although one thing is for sure... she HAS taken her last trip through on the back roads with me driving, that is until she guilts me into it again!

The Phone Call the Changed My Life.... Chapter 4

As I drove to the United Methodist Church of the Palm Beaches that morning, I kept thinking about what daddy had said on the phone the night before.  "Go to Church tomorrow." 

At 30 something years old, I was still accustomed to listening to my daddy.  I didn't always do what he said, but I learned at an early age that he was pretty smart, so on most things I listened.  This was one of those days when I listened.

I drove up to UMCPB and made my way into the "Gathering Place," the hall where Church was held.  I hobbled in on my crutches and found my way to a seat.  The seat I chose was on the right side of the building and there were a number of seniors who came and sat around me.  A couple made chit-chat with me and I learned that the gentleman I was speaking to was a retired doctor, so he was very interested in my injury, my surgery and my on-going recovery.

As the service time got near a lady came and sat down beside me, I will never forget.  She was dressed in a kelly green skirt and jacket.  Those sitting around me all greeted her and she did the same in return.  She introduced herself to me as Nancy and welcomed me to the Church.

As services began, Nancy and I shared a hymnal.  I think she felt sorry for me, trying to balance myself on crutches was enough of a feat, much less trying to balance a hymnal, myself and the crutches.  I felt really comfortable in this Church immediately.  The people were friendly, welcoming and you could feel the genuine love amongst the members. 

I decided before I left that morning that I would be back.  I liked the music, the preaching and the overall feel of the place.  Leaving Church that morning I felt better than I had since before my accident.

The following day I hit a really low point emotionally.  I don't know what it was but the loneliness of a new town, the injury, everything just kind of hit.  Immediately I knew what to do.  I called the United Methodist Church of the Palm Beaches and asked if I could come over and speak to the Pastor.

Within the hour I was sitting in the office of David McEntire.  He asked all the obvious questions, what was wrong with my leg, how long I had been on the crutches etc.  Then he told me that his wife told him I had a nice voice and that I should be in the choir.  His wife?????

What I didn't know at the time.... Nancy, the lady in the green, the lady who held my hymnal.  Nancy was the Pastor's wife.  That meeting led to a friendship that I will always cherish.  David and Nancy McEntire became a pastoral couple who taught me about grace.  They taught me what true Christianity is all about and they became family.

Over the years many people at the UMCPB have become like family to me.  I have made friendships that will last throughout my life.  I have been nurtured, loved, challenged, held accountable and taught by these people.

Now, 12 years later, this Church fills a chunk of my heart that guides me on a daily basis. 

David and Nancy are gone, they were transferred a few years back, but we have been blessed by other Pastors who have served our Church well.  John, Ken, Bo and Jen, all Associate Pastors who blessed UMCPB during their tenure and into today.

Pastor Jen and Bo remain with us today.  I don't see Bo that often as he leads our Korean congregation, but Jen is a major force in my life.  The day I got laid off, she was one of my first calls, I just needed to hear her voice.  When mama was sick and her time was short, Jen called me more than once just to let me talk.  She is now someone I look to for guidance and advice, but most of all she is someone I try to emulate, she lives her life humbly, with grace, compassion and love.... she lives her life the way God intended us all to live our lives.

David was replaced by Pastor Vic as our Senior Pastor.  He was with us for 3 years.  He had a difficult tenure, but he led us with grace and did his best, no one can ask for more than that. 

I lost my job during Pastor Vic's tenure, you know they say "God puts people in your life for specific reasons."  Debbi, his wife came to me after the lay-off, she hugged me and told me everything would be ok and for me not to leave Florida.  God still had a future for me here, I listened to her.

Now this past summer Pastor Kent and Carla have come to lead our Church, I already like them.  They are fun, energetic and Kent has a presence in the pulpit that I really like.  I know they will lead us well.

The United Methodist Church of the Palm Beaches has become more than a Church for me, they are extended family.  People I know who love me for our commonality and our differences.  A congregation who loves, laughs, cries and grows together.  A congregation that has nurtured me through good and bad.

And now you know why that simple phone call, with a simple statement "go to Church tomorrow" changed my life. 

That simple call that had so much power, four words "go to Church tomorrow" the phone call that changed my life.

The Phone Call that Changed My Life.... Chapter 3

Making my way into the "Gathering Place" of the United Methodist Church of the Palm Beaches was a big step for me.  I had no idea that this would be the first step of many that would be life altering because of UMCPB.

I grew up in the Church, so attending services wasn't anything I was unaccustomed to.  From an early age many of my fondest memories revolved around Clayton Baptist Church.  Rev. Sam Letson was my first pastor, his son Sammy one of my best friends. 

My Church friends from Clayton Baptist Church were some that I still think of fondly today.  Fred, Michael, Patty, Kristina, Tracy, Warren, Brian, Jill and many others.  I grew up with these kids.  Together we sang in choirs, did musical productions, attended Bible School, led Youth Sunday and so much more. 

Whether they knew it or not, these people helped to shape my life.  Others shaped my life as well.  Winona Gates, a gentle woman who started out as a piano player in my Youth Choir and later became a role model and confidant. 

Mrs. Gates is the kind of woman who touches lives by example.  No great speeches, no parables, just grace and example.  When I go to God's Country I make it a point of seeing Mrs. Gates when I visit CBC. 

Standing in the receiving line at the funeral home when mama passed away was incredibly difficult.  I remember seeing Mrs. Gates face come around the corner and got a sense of peace, that is the kind of woman Winona Gates is. 

I had a Sunday School teacher named Ted Law for several of my formidable years.  Coach  Law (in addition to being a Sunday School teacher, he was also a High School Basketball Coach) already seemed old when I was a kid, it was probably his grey hair because he wasn't much older than I am now when I first began going to his Sunday School class. 

Coach Law challenged our class of boys.  He challenged us to be young men, respect others and lead by example, not falling into the wrong crowd. 

Another thing Coach Law taught was responsibility. 

Sunday School and Church were not something that was done sometimes, it was our responsibility to be in Sunday School and Church EVERY Sunday.  For some reason that responsibility made its way into my 10 year old brain and I latched onto it.

The year before my friend Brian had gotten a perfect attendance pin and I decided I wanted one too.  That bright shiny pin looked so impressive on the lapel of his jacket and caught the light just so as to glisten when he walked.

I accepted Coach Law's challenge and decided I would receive my perfect attendance pin for Sunday School.  I got my initial pin, I also got year two and year three. 

Getting to Sunday School every week wasn't always easy, but mama and daddy knew it meant a lot to me.  When we were out of town, they found a church where I could attend Sunday School.

When I was 11, I had my tonsils out, mama invited the entire Sunday School to our house for class, just so I wouldn't be counted absent.

When I was 12, a group of families went camping for the weekend.  We set up camp on the river.  The only way into the campground was with a 4-wheel drive vehicle. 

Sunday morning came and as mama and I prepared to leave for Sunday School, all of the kids in the campground decided they were going too. 

Instead of taking our Jeep, we all loaded into one of the pick-up trucks there.  There were three of us in the front seat with mama driving and 4 boys in the back of the truck. (In the 70's it wasn't that big of a deal for kids to ride in the back of a pick-up truck.)

As we made our way down the small winding dirt road around the river, the truck lost its grip on the road.  The next thing you knew we were rolling down an embankment, kids thrown out of the back of the truck and onto the ground.

The wreck looked bad and the truck was totaled, thankfully no one was seriously hurt.  Just bruises, a few cuts and some stitches.

I missed Sunday School that week, we all missed Sunday School that week.  I was heartbroken, not only were we in a wreck, but my streak was broken, there would be no perfect attendance pin.

Without my knowledge mama spoke to Coach Law and told him we were on our way to Sunday School when we had the wreck.

That year when Perfect Attendance Pins were presented they called my name.  It was explained that I did miss a Sunday, but I was on my way and sometimes God puts obstacles in front of us that prevent us from reaching our intended goal. 

On an early morning, in the backwoods of North Georgia, as a truck flipped down and embankment, God put one of those challenges in front of me, a challenge that would teach me a lesson I still carry today.  It wasn't anything earth shaking, it was a lesson of perseverance.

I could have missed more Sundays after that week, but I didn't.  I kept going and didn't miss another week.  I was awarded that perfect attendance pin and I never felt like it was a "gimme" I earned it and wore it with pride as the lights flickered off my lapel.

I learned a lot in that Church growing up.  The lessons I learned formed me in many ways into who I am today.  The cornerstones of my character were molded there in that small Church, with my friends, leaders and examples I still remember today.

As often happens, I moved away from the Church when I was in college.  I was experiencing life on my own, learning and accepting who I was and spreading my wings.

As I came to an acceptance of who I am, I wasn't so sure I was welcome in Church.  This God who I had been told loved me, allowed his more vocal  "followers" to persecute me.  Was this really the God of love for everyone or only those who fit a certain mold?

As I searched for answers through my 20's, I longed for Church, but not the narrow-minded "spokespeople" who made up the Church.  While living in Atlanta, I made friends with a couple of guys who told me about a Church they were attending.

A Methodist Church in Midtown Atlanta, not far from my house.  I attended with them and found a Church where all were welcome, all were loved and the true examples of God I longed for were found. 

In that Church I learned that the "spokespeople" who jumped in front of a television camera at every opportunity were not the Christians I would encounter.  I learned that true Christians love everyone, we love each for our struggles, our weaknesses, our defeats and our victories.

I learned these Christians were the same ones who loved me as a child, the people who shaped my life and led by example.  Through my journey, I learned that where God is truly present, there lies love and grace as well. 

I had many examples of that grace throughout my life.  On the day that I first walked into the United Methodist Church of the Palm Beaches, I wondered which Church I would find.  The Church of persecution, or the Church of love and grace.

From the moment I walked through the doors, I knew I had found the latter.  My walk with Christ has only been strengthened by the UMCPB family and through that journey I have found new leaders, people who lead by example, show love and grace.

Much like my childhood Church home, UMCPB has become my adult Church home, a journey that continues to evolve.

To Be Continued.....

The Phone Call that Changed My Life.... Chapter 2

After surgery I was extremely weak.  The last week of injury, ice and surgery had really taken its toll.  Here I was back in my parents house, on the pull-out sofa in the living room.

Pull-out sofas are not comfortable, as you probably know there always seems to be an iron bar that goes right across the small of your back.  Mama and daddy's pull-out was no different.  Day and night I stayed on the sofa, but eventually I was able to move about more and more.

I had never been on crutches and they took some getting used to.  I was anxious to get back to Florida, but also knew it would be a while before I came back.

After surgery on the 7th, I had a doctor appointment on the 21st, so my short four day vacation in God's Country had now turned into a month long Groundhog Day experience of pain, sofa bed, pain, sofa bed and on and on.

Daddy knew I was anxious to get back to Florida, but he also knew better than I did that I wasn't ready to go.  He gave me a challenge.  As soon as I could walk to the top of our driveway hill I would be ready to go back.

I was weak, but day after day I began to try to accomplish the task of going up the hill.  The first day, I barely made it out of the garage.  Each day I got stronger, eventually making it to the top of the long driveway hill within about a week. 

My strength was returning and I was getting much better on the crutches.  We had an appointment on the 21st with my doctor, so a few days before that, mama, daddy and I all felt comfortable that we could make a plane reservation for the 23rd.

The 21st came and we made it to my doctor appointment.  For the first time since my surgery the doctor removed my cast and bandages.  When everything was exposed I saw my scar, an 8 inch "L" shaped scar now adorned my beautiful foot.

After getting the cast off, my doctor found a referral for me in WPB and two days later I was on a plane headed back to Florida. 

My first big challenge on the return home was to conquer the 17 steps that led up to my 2nd story apartment.  I made it and eventually learned to drive with my left foot.  I was coming along back in Florida.

The catering job was gone because I couldn't do anything, but that was ok, my main focus now was on getting well.

Four days per week I went to physical therapy, the rest of the time I spent moving slowly and trying to get around.

I found through this experience just how nice people can be.  I had doors held for me by little old women, I learned to drive one of the motorized buggies at the grocery and often had people get items on uppper shelves that I couldn't reach.  The kindness of strangers took on a whole new meaning during this time period.

As I began to get better each day, I also became depressed.  Here I was in a town where I knew no one, I didn't have a job, I couldn't go to the beach and I had several more months on the crutches before I would be able to get around like I did before. 

I looked for a job during this time, had a few interviews, but whenever I came hobbling in it was obvious by looking at the interviewer that I wouldn't be coming back for a second interview. 

I was frustrated, I was angry, I was depressed and I was beginning to think I had made a mistake by moving to Florida. 

Through it all my family tried to keep my spirits up, but it wasn't working, I was at a very low point in my life.

One Saturday night I was on the phone with mama and daddy.  The conversation was pretty typical and then at the end of the conversation daddy said something, he said something that would change my life forever....

"you know that big Church behind the TGIF Friday's restaurant", my response was "yes."  Then daddy said.... "why don't you go to Church in the morning?"

I was non-committal but the next morning I woke up, got dressed and made my way to the United Methodist Church of the Palm Beaches.  I went in, sat down, and before I left I knew it that phone call from the night before had just changed me, changed me in a way that would soon make me realize it would all be ok!

To Be Continued....

The Phone Call That Changed My Life....

Right after the 1996 Summer Olympic Games I needed a change of pace.  Atlanta had been in the spotlight since 1990 when the Games were awarded and for those years we had all been gearing up for what was to come.

At the conclusion of the Olympics there was a tremendous let down, sadness and depression throughout the city.  There was a feeling of now what?  I had the same feeling on a more personal level. 

Working in the special events industry, the Olympics were the epitome of a career for most people, here I was at 32 thinking, ok, what now?  I needed a new adventure.

For years I had held a love affair with the beach.  Immediately after the Games I took a trip to Florida, by myself just to unwind.  What I found in Florida was the beginning of my "now what" because within weeks I was packing my bags and moving to sunny South Florida, West Palm Beach to be exact.

The beginning of this adventure was going to be huge, I was moving to a place where I knew no one.  I would either thrive or fumble on my own. 

I had gotten a piddly job working for a catering company to help me find my way.  I hated working at the catering company, but loved south Florida, I knew that once I found a job I could enjoy I would be set.

A couple of months after my arrival, mama, daddy and gramps came for a visit to see my new home.  A few months later mama and daddy came again, they could tell I was happy here and even though it was too far from God's Country for their taste they were supportive of my move.

At the end of June I had gathered up enough days to take a vacation.  I packed my bags, hopped a plane and headed home, to see my family.  The plan was to spend the Fourth of July holiday with family and then come back to WPB for work...... that was "the plan!"

It had been a while since I had been to God's Country and not long after I arrived mama told me she had one job she needed me to do while I was home.  I told her of course and she said that "one of the screens had come off the upstairs window and she needed me to put it back on."  Simple enough.

The next day, July 1st I decided it was time to re-attach the screen.  Mama and daddy didn't have a ladder and I decided I didn't need on.  Without saying anything to anyone, I went into the upstairs bathroom, opened the window and climbed out onto the roof.

I put the screen back into place and then it happened.  I felt myself slipping, when I began slipping I jumped.  When I hit the ground I landed on both feet, but immediately knew something was wrong from the pop I heard when I landed.

Intense pain surged through my body and all I could do was yell for daddy.

Mama first and then daddy made their way to the front lawn, finding me in a heap writhing in pain.  What did you do was their first question, their second question was WHY????

I let them know quickly that this wasn't the time for a long drawn out talk, we needed to get to the hospital pronto.  Daddy and I got into the car and made our way to the hospital, leaving mama at home to, well.... call everyone she knew to tell them that Ken was hurt.

By the time we made it to the emergency room, my foot was swollen and burning with pain.  I knew this was more than a sprain, this was something serious.  I had never had a broken bone, but was pretty sure I had one now.
Not long after daddy and I arrived at the hospital, Sam and mama made their way in.  After checking out my foot, the doctor told us his recommendation was for us to go to a Regional Hospital about 40 miles away as they could give me better care.

An ambulance was offered, but we decided to load me into the backseat of mama and daddy's Oldsmobile and head south.  By this time I had been given a shot for pain, so I was drifting, the backseat of the car as opposed to an ambulance was just fine with me.

We met a doctor at the Regional Hospital and he advised that I had broken my heel.  My heel???  Who breaks a heel?  Evidently I do!

Not only did I break it, the impact of me on the ground basically made my heel explode inside my body, it was in lots of pieces.

So now we know what is wrong, how do we fix it and fix it fast, I have to be back in WPB in less than a week.  As if my day wasn't already bad enough the doctor had some more news for me.

The swelling in my foot was so great that he couldn't do surgery until it had subsided, this meant I would be going home and icing my foot to get the swelling down.  Ok, ice the foot, we will see you tomorrow..... ummmm, NO..... we will see you on the 7th.  The 7th!?!?!?  That is a week away.

Yes, I would be coming back in one week for surgery.  The instructions from the doctor, keep my foot elevated and iced for a week.  Yes, iced for a week!

That is exactly what I did, for one week, day and night I kept ice on my foot.  I slept and lived on a sofa bed in the living room.  The 4th of July came and went, no fireworks for me and finally the morning of the 7th arrived.

Mama, daddy and I made our way to the hospital, surgery was scheduled for early afternoon.  I would be in the hospital for a day or so, depending on how well I did.

When we got to my assigned room, mama told the nurse that she would need a blanket as she would be staying in my room with me.  "Now mama that is silly, I am a grown man, I can stay here by myself, you go home with daddy."

My direction fell on deaf ears, mama was going to stay and I was just going to have to like it.

After surgery I woke up in the big hospital room.  I soon found out that the surgery was a success, I was now the recipient of a bone graft, 7 screws and a metal plate which made up my heel.

At some point during the night I woke up, in horrible pain.  The first face I saw was mama, she was bent over my bed, stroking my head, offering me water.... I was really glad she stayed!

The next morning the nurse came into my room bright and early, she advised me that I had to pee. 

I told her I didn't need to pee, and she advised me that my needs didn't matter, I HAD to pee. 

My bladder had not done anything since my surgery, she was getting off in an hour and she would be back in 30 minutes, if I had not pee'd she would insert a catheter and I WOULD pee.

I had never had a catheter, but I knew I didn't want one, so for the next few minutes I drank as much water as I could stand and eventually pee'd a few drops.

When she came back in she laughed and told me "I thought you would see it my way!"

In a couple of days I went home, back to the sleeper sofa.  My return to WPB had come and gone, now I was in recovery land on the sofa in my childhood living room for God only knew how long......

To Be Continued......

(Side Note, thank you all so much for the notes and gentle pushes in person you have given me to continue the Blog.  In all honesty, since mama died it has been a chore, but I am going to continue and thank you all for encouraging me to do so!)

Grief

Grief is a strange thing.  One moment you are ok, or at least you THINK you are ok and the next, something can hit you that opens up a deep pain that you didn't even know you could feel.

Since mama passed, I have been going through this roller-coaster of emotions and it doesn't seem to be getting any better.  If anything it gets worse.  The slightest thing will trigger my eyes to fill with tears, a commercial, a smell, anything and everything, it just hits a nerve.

This past Sunday, we got word that my Aunt had passed away, although we weren't particularly close, that news put me in a tail-spin right back to those days n God's Country with mama during her final days and burial.

I constantly want to pick up the phone and call her, but I can't, so in those moments I just talk to her.  I speak with daddy every morning and that is a blessing I cherish.

Mama has been gone now for three months, but the wound of her loss is still fresh and some days it gets deeper and deeper.  I am constantly reminded of her and I cherish every one of those memories and know that one day we will all be reunited. 

I also know she is with me every moment of every day, but that doesn't take away the pain.  I just want to hear her voice, I want to hear her say "I love you" or call me "baby".... I just want my mama!

Some things probably aren't appropriate for a blog post, and this may be one of them, but I need to get it out and for me writing it down is therapeutic, I realize this rambles, but it is how it is coming out, so accept my apologies, this one is more for me than anyone else.

Daddy and Sam are wonderful and I appreciate being able to lean on them, but I am a mama's boy and nothing or no one can completely take her place.  I got through the funeral and planning and death better than I thought I would, but now as things are quieted down, as life has moved on and things are supposed to be back to normal, this new normal is difficult at best.  I am trying and know I will get through, but at certain times and certain moments the sadness is overwhelming.

Grief is a strange thing, you think you are making progress and then the mack-truck of sadness runs into you face to face.  I hate those moments, but also know that if I didn't love her so much and she didn't love me so much the pain wouldn't be as hard.

For the memories and joy mama gave me through life, this pain is worth it.  But this pain is hard and will take forever to mend.

Child of Miracles

Eighteen months ago I was in a meeting at Church.  The meeting was like most others and to be honest I don't even remember what we discussed that night, but what happened during and after that meeting gave me a renewed sense of faith, grace and love unlike most anything I have ever seen in my life.

Just a month or so earlier, our Pastor Jen had shared the news with our congregation that she was expecting her first child.  The congregation was overjoyed for Jen and her husband Mike, also a Methodist Pastor at a nearby church.

On the night of our meeting several of us noticed Pastor Jen appearing to be run-down and tired.  Some even mentioned it to her.  As the meeting concluded, I walked to the parking lot with Jen and we spoke briefly about how she just wasn't feeling well.  As we usually do, we departed with a hug and I told her to get some rest.

Unbeknownst to me and the rest of the congregation, that ride home for Jen would change her life forever.  After a call to her on-call doctor, Jen was informed to pack an overnight bag and get to the hospital.

Following doctor's orders she and Mike soon arrived at the hospital and doctor's began to do their work.  Over the next few days it was determined that not only was the babies life in danger, but also Pastor Jen's.

Word of Pastor Jen's difficulties began to seep out into our community of faith and we all began to pray for her, Mike and their unborn child.  Following a couple of days of ups and downs, Jen was transferred to another hospital and she delivered Luke, just over 1 lb at birth.

It was apparent from the beginning that Pastor Jen, Pastor Mike and baby Luke were in for a battle.  Doctor's weren't very encouraging, but one thing that baby Luke had on his side was a community of faith that lifted he and his parents up.

We began to pray for baby Luke, we spread the word about baby Luke to other churches and we continued to pray.  We prayed through dark days, days when it seemed inevitable that God's will wasn't for baby Luke to live.  Facebook pages were formed for prayer and updates, blue ribbons were worn in solidarity with baby Luke and we turned it over to God for a miracle, to deliver baby Luke from harm.

During his early months, baby Luke was transferred from a local hospital to a regional hospital in Miami that could give him more intense care.  We continued to pray and Pastor Jen and Pastor Mike made the trip daily to see their little boy and spend time with him.

One night during a bible study I was attending, Pastor Jen got word that she needed to get to Miami immediately.  As word spread of this news, again we began to pray.

As time went along, it sometimes was confusing what we were praying for, but we kept praying. 

Months passed and Luke began to improve, bit by bit his small body began to respond to treatments and he began to grow.  First Christmas, birthday, Valentine's Day, Mother's Day and Father's Day were all held in a hospital NICU unit, but although they were reserved just for family, the faithful celebrated these milestones from miles away.

Finally, as if God had smiled on this little angel, Luke came home.  He was released from the hospital with a mom and dad who had spent far too many hours confined to a hospital to enjoy their newborn;s birth.  He came home.

This time we prayed a prayer of Thanksgiving..... another milestone met.

Today, several months after his initial homecoming, Luke was brought to another home.  For the first time he was introduced to our congregation and his baptism was reaffirmed before one of his Church families.  Again we prayed and we cried, but we also smiled today.  Today a miracle child was in our midst and a proud mother and father shared the pulpit to preach the word of Luke's life and the lessons learned through his life.

We continue to pray for Luke, for the young boy he is and the young man he will become.  We will continue to pray and celebrate the milestones.

Baby Luke is home, the blue ribbons no longer adorn our wrist and the Facebook page doesn't get much traffic any longer, but the prayers remain for a miracle child who taught us all about faith, perseverance, love, grace and prayer.

Welcome to the family baby Luke, we look forward to seeing where God leads you and your parents as you continue to journey.

Listening

Today I had two friends ask me if I had posted on my blog recently, sadly the answer was no. In all honesty I haven't felt like writing.


Since mama died, the thought of writing anything here has terrified me. She loved this blog and I couldn't wait to share each story with her, now without her being here to read, it just isn't as much fun to write.

But here I go, although I have no idea what I am about to write, let me begin....

Everyone told me that losing a parent would be hard, I never could have imagined just how hard. Mama died on February 21st, today is April 18th and the emotions are still just as raw as they were the moment I knew she was gone.

My faith, my family and my friends have gotten me through this. But not a single moment of a single day has gone by since she passed that I haven't thought of her. I just want to pick up the phone and hear her voice. I want to hear her say she loves me and I want to know that I am going to see her again.

On the outside I seem pretty together, on the inside I am a mess. I go about my day everyday and keep a brave face, but a simple commercial or moment on tv can have me in tears.

The final thing our family did together was celebrate Communion, or the Lord's Supper. It was mama's wish, that someone from the Church come to the house and serve us this blessed meal together. So on Saturday the 20th, a Deacon from mama and daddy's Church came to the house and served us the Lord's meal as a family. Mama was already slowly making her journey home, but we surrounded her bed, as a family, and took part in the Lord's feast, that memory will be with me forever.

My Church serves communion on the first Sunday of each month, I missed it in March because I was busy with my election campaign. (To be honest, I was not in any place emotionally to go to Church and have Communion that week.)

On Maundy Thursday, I was in Church and had to leave the room when Communion was being prepared because I wasn't ready yet.

Last Sunday, we served Communion, the second Sunday of the month because Easter fell on the first. I took Communion and the warmth and love I felt as I took the bread and wine was palpable, I knew my mama was with me. It was emotional, but I got through it.

Easter was tough. Daddy came down for the day and as wonderful as it was to be with him, the empty seat was painful to see.

Daddy and I talk every morning, it is wonderful to hear his voice and we have been there for each other through all of this.

Daddy and I will both celebrate our birthdays on the 28th of this month, another first.

All these first seem like they are difficult, but I imagine the seconds and thirds and fourths are going to be just as hard. Mama was my rock, the person I always knew I could talk to and now she is gone. Now I talk to her in my mind and in my prayers and sometimes I just talk out loud to her, I just wish I could hear her answer.

A couple of weeks ago she did answer, although I had no idea she had until a friend of mine told me. I had an event on the 9th that I was responsible for. About 10 minutes before the event began I was running around getting everything finalized when I got a text from Sam.

The text was a picture of the headstone on mama's grave that had been put in that day. Of course I lost it but regained my composure and kept going with my event.

A few days later I was relaying the story to my friend Beth when she said "you know what that was don't you, that was your mama telling you she was with you." Beth was right, although I don't hear her voice any longer she still communicates to me... I just need to find the new way of listening.

Thinking back on it mama has spoken to me in numerous ways over the last 8 weeks.

When I arrived back in Florida after being with family to find my yard completely made over, my house cleaned beyond spotless, hot chili in the crock pot and a memory garden planted in the back yard. That was mama telling me that she has entrusted me to wonderful friends, a Florida family, who is there for me in good times and bad.

When on a particularly bad day, I called Sam and said I am having a bad day and within 2 minutes he had me laughing, that was mama passing along the love of siblings through us to get through difficult moments.

The night I was sitting on my sofa, deep in thought and feeling lonely, when an acquaintance, a Southern lady, drove up handed me a freshly baked pound cake and departed, that was mama knowing that everything is ok as long as you have a freshly baked pound cake on hand.

When a friend stops by to drop off flowers or neighbors who have suffered their own loss just sit and listen to me, that is mama helping me work through the grief and letting me know that I am not alone.

When Chelsea or Zack text or email me, or when Donna and I talk, that is mama passing along love to a new generation of Rumsey.

Countless cards, letters, phone calls, emails, Facebook messages all acts of love and kindness, the type of grace mama showed to others through her years is being given back to me now in my time of loss.

The rose bushes in the backyard that have been covered in blooms this year, each time I see one I think of mama and feel renewed.

It is comforting to know that mama still speaks to me in these brief moments. Moments of love and grace, now I just find a new way of hearing her.

My Valentine

I first met my Valentine on April 28, 1964.  From that day until today she has held my heart.

From the first day I met her, my Valentine has loved me without question.  She comforts me when I am sad, she celebrates my successes and provides guidance through every step of my life.

As a child she kissed my bumps and bruises, as an adult she kisses my heart.

Through almost 46 years of life, I have never doubted my Valentine's love, not for one day, not for one moment.

I cherish every memory with my Valentine.  She talks to me about the things that matter, she talks to me about the journey of life and she talks to me about nothing of importance..... we just talk.

My Valentine warms my heart through memories, through her actions, through her being.

Growing up I revered her, today I honor her.  She is my friend, my confidant and my Valentine.

She is my mother...... Happy Valentine's Day Mama!  I love and appreciate you more than you will ever know.

Milestones....

January, the beginning of a new year. Wow, where did the last year go? And the one before that and all the ones since I was an 18 year old kid with my whole life in front of me.... where does the time go?

We measure our lives in milestones. New Years, birthdays, anniversaries. Sometimes we measure our lives in wealth, luxury cars, designer clothes.

What if in 2010 we measured our milestones daily, what if for this year we measured our self-worth in something more simplistic, something that could really make a difference?

One of the things I learned in 2009 was that kindness and compassion are still rampant in our society, it sneaks up on you when you least expect it.

Do the people who have prayed for me, loved me and guided me know that I measure their past year as a success? Do the people who have done that for you know the difference they have made in your life.... sadly, like me, the answer is probably no.

What if for this year, 2010 we set new goals, not abandoning those that allow us to live the lives of comfort we already do, but smaller more tangible goals.

Kindness, compassion, understanding, love, friendship and grace.

How different would the world be if those were our guiding principles instead of who has the nicest I-pod, who can shout the loudest to get their point across, whose Mercedes is newer.... how different would the world be?

As we embark on a new year, with new goals and aspirations, wouldn't it be great if this year we measured our lives by what is really important, the kind of person we can become.

2010 like every year starts off with great promise, like a daffodil breaking through a soft bed of snow, the potential is limitless. My goal for 2010 is to be the best person I can be, to return the love, compassion and friendship I have been shown.

Several years ago I set a goal for myself.....

Laugh each day and show grace to others.

Some days I meet that goal, others I don't, but if I continue to strive for that ideal imagine how great my life will be!

It is expected that we measure our lives each year with those milestone moments, there is nothing wrong with that, but this year, my challenge for myself and you is to measure your life successes in smaller increments. Live each day to the fullest, honor your neighbor, and find a way to be of service to someone each day.

Service, it doesn't have to be something big. Helping a lady across the street is service, opening the door for someone, sharing a kind word with a stranger, it is all service. What if in 2010 we took it upon ourselves to make a difference, small differences added together to make a huge difference.

I continue to work towards financial security and having nice things in my life, that is expected... but this year, the small things are what I will use to measure my life.

Making a daily difference, that is a milestone I can be proud of!