Tag Archives: thought

It Is Feeling More Like Christmas


All the last minute shopping at the supermarket is finished (unless I forgot something else).  The cocoa mix is ready to serve to the carolers tomorrow night, the cookies have been baked and Rice Crispy Candy is chilling.  My holiday candles are flickering and the smell of cinnamon drifts through the house.  It smells like Christmas in my house.

My business partner, her husband and their two children paid us a visit this evening.  Little E was so excited to hand me a gift bag when he came down to the family room.  Inside was the cutist Christmas that he had made and painted green.  His parents are teaching him the joy of giving to others.  Of course, I hung the ornament on the front of the tree and it will be there each year.

Little E’s sister has a story about the green paint on the ornament.  Actually she got into the paint last week and her mom says she was green from head to toe. 

This was a wonderful evening with the fire crackling, kids eating cookies, adults drinking hot chocolate and a friends sitting in the floor and chatting with us.  This is something you can’t buy.

Let’s Count Our Blessing…



I am going to start this page and I am asking the readers to help contribute.  Let’s think of warm, funny, lite or crazy things for which we are thankful.  Perhaps you have been reading my blog, but haven’t taken time to leave a comment.  Now is the time.  I think this could be fun.

I will go first.

1.  I am thankful for all the people we have met through the years of my husband’s ministry.  Some of the most memorable people had very in this life, but had hearts full of love.  I saw something in their lives that I will never forget.

2.  I am thankful for a forgiving heart.


Original Fashion Design


Most communities in the 60’s had a person that was a seamstress.  Vesta Lawson had made clothes for me when I started to school and all through high school.  She is now going to make me some maternity clothes.  Vesta’s husband died and she and her son’s moved into a big white farm house with her mother and sister, Alma.  The house always seemed creepy and the floors squeaked when you walked down the hall.  The back porch had a water well and a big black hand pump on top.  I always liked to stop and get a drink of the cold, cold water before I went in the house.

The little old women were usually in the kitchen cooking and the smell of cornbread drifted all through the house.  They usually ate what they raised in their garden and what they canned from the year before.  Vesta and Alma’s mother, Ms. Griffith, was in her ninty’s.  She always wore a long dress and her hair was pulled up into a bun.  Alma always smelled like Clorox or Magic as it was known then.  I never knew why….

Vesta would always have you walk down the hallway to a rear bedroom to be measured for your clothes.  Vesta had very little, but she was a genius at fitting and designing.  She could just measure you and come up with an outfit without a pattern.  They always looked great.  No one in the 60’s would have even thought of showing their stomach in public.  The tops were a smock and the skirts had a hole cut out to allow growth of the baby. 

Vesta had two son’s how lived with her in that old white farm house.  Glen was an older son, that was mentally impaired and was about the same age as my dad.  He couldn’t really talk very well and was always upstairs when I was there.  Her other son was Cecil and he was older than me and always had a studder when he spoke.

Memories of the farm house, the old women with white hair, the squeeky floors, the well with a hand pump and new original fashion design are a very good way to end the day.

Reflections in My Mirror–Sunday..Worship..Singing..Eating


We agreed to attend Basil’s home church since it was close to where we lived.  The Ivydale Baptist Church has been known for years for having wonderful singers and an excellent choir.  It has always been said, “If you are a Hudson…you can sing”.  Even the small children knew how to sing on key and harmonize in a group.  The singing was a ministry in itself and still is 57 years later.

Mr. Basil is from a family of nine kids and most of them lived near the church at that time.  Mawmaw Hudson would always have dinner after church and sometimes there were 30 people for Sunday Dinner.  I can still smell the rump roast with dark brown gravy, green beans, mashed potatoes, big garden salad and rolls.  The men usually ate at the dining room table and the kids in the kitchen.  The women all ate together after the men finished. (Boy has this changed).  There was always enough to go around!

Mawmaw was famous for using every dish and pan in the kitchen and all us girls had to wash the dishes.  She didn’t have an electric dishwasher, but several people with two arms and hands.  Washing the dishes would take over an hour, but it was a fun time of laughing and talking about our week.

The meal is over and the dishes are washed.  It is time to sit on the porch and just socialize.  The men are talking about their cars, ballgames and their jobs.  The women are talking about the kids, a recipe or a old memory. 

All the bigger kids are in the yard playing softball and the little ones are playing tag.  Sooner or later one of them run’s in crying with a scraped knee.  Mawmaw gives the knee a big kiss and it is all better.

These were such fun filled and memorable Sunday’s.  I would love to experience one more day at mawmaw and pawpaw’s house on Sunday.