Dear Anne,
This is the latest picture of my mom that I have. She just turned 94. She lives in a nursing home in Alabama close to my sister Barbara. I have not been able to see her in over a year.
She has lost most of her memories and so I have been writing her a weekly letter sharing some of my favorite stories from my childhood. She doesn't remember any of them but thinks I am a good writer and a nice lady.
It's sad, but at least she thinks I'm a nice lady and that makes me happy. Miss you! Your Diva
Dear Mom February 7, 2021
It’s time for your weekly letter from your adorable middle daughter Kathy. It snowed last night here in Tennessee and I woke up to beautiful pristine snow on the tree branches and ground. It almost takes away your breath by the purity of it. It reminds me of the hymn “Brighter than snow, Yes brighter than snow, now wash me and I will be brighter than snow.” Today is Sunday, a calm restful day of church services on the computer of our local church and of your grandson Andy’s church in Fort Worth, Texas.
I am writing memories and stories for our grandchildren (your great-grandchildren) so they will know a little bit more about you and dad and the memories I had as a child. This is part of a story I wrote about my favorite memories of church. This occurred while Charlie and I were working at Equipping the Saints in Virginia.
‘Several days ago we had a new volunteer ( a 17-year-old girl that was very quiet) she was working on scraping off loose paint from the window sills before we could caulk, sand, and paint them. Our Suzy always plays questions and answers whenever we are on a road trip so I started asking everyone questions trying to draw her out and learn a little more about her.
The question asked was, "What is one of your first memories of the church?"
Various answers followed, VBS, church camp, a wedding, stain glass windows in the sanctuary.
[I was transported back to my childhood and the one memory that stood out in my mind was sitting next to my dad in the church service. I was a wiggler and a giggler so was assigned to sit next to my dad so he could give me "the eye" when I got too antsy. I was intrigued by my Dad's big hand compared to mine. I would study it and play with his hand. Occasionally we would play a game where he would suddenly grab my fingers and my job was to keep him from entrapping them in his grasp.
This normally would keep me entertained and quiet for at least 20 minutes till I would suddenly break into gales of laughter causing my mom to give both of us
"the look" that instantly brought both of us to attention and make my Dad suddenly stop playing and start looking stern. We both knew it was to satisfy my mom because there was always a twinkle in those merry blue eyes.
I miss my Father's Hands. He was a good hugger, tickler, coach, adviser, sports enthusiast, friend, and the first man in my life. I miss his "Dutch Uncle" talks where he would tell me what he was thinking and why without trying to spare my feelings.
Our son was named after Dad (Andrew Wallace) and I see many characteristics in him that were in dad. I miss him every day.}
We love and miss you,
Momma. Hope this was a nice story of the man we all loved. Same time next week? Gotcha all prayed up sweet lady. Kathy
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