Newspaper article Charleston Gazette Mail

More Family Means More Heartache and More Blessings

Newspaper article Charleston Gazette Mail

More Family Means More Heartache and More Blessings

Article excerpt

Winter continues moving along with more wet, cloudy days and mud everywhere. I always called the month of February the "Season of Mud." After January had passed with freezing, snowy, frigid days, the ground would begin to thaw and mud reigned supreme. This year, however, the ground has barely been frozen, and mud has been an everyday thing.

Some folks may have enjoyed the mild weather, but I remember a year when we had similar weather. It was in 1997, when the day was 73 degrees in January, and my late Uncle Myles and I sat on the front porch and basked in the sunshine.

My mother didn't trust the warm weather though. She kept saying, "This weather is not natural. I remember one winter when we had the same kind of warm weather, and the following summer, we had a drought.

The weather turned colder then, and that was the winter when my baby sister Susie drove down the steep hill from her home, struck a patch of black ice, and had a horrible accident. She broke her hip, her hand and almost lost her foot. That was right before Christmas that year, and I guess history does repeat itself. Again, just before Christmas this year, she fell in her house and broke another hip. She wrote a poem after her previous accident, and I'd like to share part of it.

Reflections From a Bedpan

By Susie O'Dell Loomis

While driving to church one Sunday morning,

My car struck a tree without any warning.

I received a concussion, I understand,

A broken hip, and ankle and hand.

I was hurt pretty bad, but I wasn't quite dead,

They loaded me up; to the hospital we sped.

I lost two pints of blood, and needed a transfusion,

They found me a pint that they were through usin'.

While on the fifth floor, the nurses were sweet,

They powdered my bottom and wiggled my feet.

They never complained when I asked for a shot,

My pillows rearranged, or I was too hot.

(There's more of the poem, but I'll skip down to the ending:)

I do want to send thanks for every gift, prayer and card,

It made my experience a little less hard.

But thank the good Lord, I'm now back at home,

And to keep me down will take more than "broke bones.

Yes, our Susie needs prayer again, although she is improving, and up on her walker. Such is life in our family. Seems as if there is always a crisis - I remember Mom saying that the more members you have, the more heartaches abound. That may be true, but the more blessings you have also.

Jerry Ranson, of Hometown, sent a poem that his late mother, Ethel Bennett, wrote about home. He added, "If parents would take their marriage vows seriously, homes would have less divorce. Here's the poem:

Our Home

A real home starts with two people,

Joined by God's love divine,

Who share heartaches and disappointments,

Always keeping each other in mind.

A home is a place to be proud of,

'Tis here that we labor each day. …

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