My Mayka

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I’m sitting in my rocking chair, under the carport. Nevaeh’s five. She just bounced by – the way little girls do – singing a song older than she is.

“This is the day,

 this is the day,

that The Lord has made,

that the Lord has made…”

I know why, too. She heard it from her Mayka.  When Nevaeh was younger, she couldn’t say, Grandma… Mayka came out instead – and it stuck.

I watch my granddaughter ride her pink bike, in little circles. She’s supposed to stay on the driveway but, when I’m not looking, sometimes she’ll venture out into the street. I can hear her singing that song. The one planted into the fertile soil of her heart, by her Mayka.

Nevaeh loves her Mayka…me too.

 Mayka has that way about her. She’s always singing – and it beautifies the atmosphere – no matter where she’s at. Not that she has a great voice, it’s good, but I’d don’t see her winning the next American Idol. She has great peace and great joy and it bubbles out in bits and pieces of the song playing in her heart – and it sticks. And soon you’re singing along – just like Nehaeh.  

I rock my chair to the rhythm of the simple song… and think about her Mayka.

She sorts laundry, and sings… this is the day, this is the day, that the Lord has made… She wonders about heaven. What will I do there – will there be anything to clean? I’ve told her maybe she can dust…gold dust. She says cleaning is her gift – it’s more like an honor than a chore for her. “Everyone should do their part – cleaning’s mine,” she says. Have her over for a visit and before it’s over, she’ll be cleaning the place. It’s her gift and she enjoys it. In a way her singing is like that too. She cleans the area with her hands and the atmosphere with her singing. Simple – yet penetrating – even the toughest stains.

When we put legs to our gift – love happens.  

I know this much – she’s helped clean up my life. I was a mess. Lord knows I needed some cleaning. Still do. Amazing, but I think God had His hand in our meeting – even though, it was in a honky-tonk. I still remember the first time I saw her; those beautiful hazel-green eyes captured me. Her highlighted auburn hair flowed past her shoulders; her white shirt seemed to glow in the dark. I asked her to dance and I’d never seen kinder eyes – even though she said no…at first. “I can’t even believe I’m here, I rarely go out, but my sisters insisted,” she said.  I love those sisters. She softly sang as we danced a million miles that night. And eventually we danced all the way to a backyard wedding and a dance in the barn. Fireworks and all…

Whoa! Almost fell out of my rocker there for a second – sorry ‘bout that.  

Did I tell you about the time she put a homeless woman in a hotel? Or how she’s the volunteer librarian? Or how she spends hours transcribing her mother’s notes into book form? Or how she works tirelessly searching for family lineage? I can’t keep up with the living kin – let alone the dead ancestors. But she can – and does. She loves. Plain and simple – that’s her way.

And now, here we are – by the grace of God. Her kids and my kids are having kids of their own. Her family and mine all blended into one.

Gracious. That’s the word an old friend used to describe her. Yep, that’s my Mayka.

A simple girl raised on a farm doing what she does, to the glory of God… a super-hero.  That’s my Mayka.

“Look Papa, I’m flying like an eagle.” Nevaeh spreads her arms – like wings – as she pedals her little bike. Even a feather duster used to the glory of God can become the wings of an eagle.

For some reason I have this song from Psalm 118:24 stuck in my head…

This is the day that the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it…

That’s my Mayka.

~

When Day is Done... Love Remains by Linda Maynard

With Valentine’s Day in our midst, this week on Kingdom Bloggers, we will be giving honor to our spouses.

Through my experience as a Floral Designer, I know that Valentine’s Day is one of the busiest days of the year. Some floral arrangements are chosen but Long Stemmed Red Roses lead the sales.

 I do remember one customer requesting a card whose theme was “Getting Out of the Dog House”. We didn’t carry such a card, so I drew one by hand. He actually showed up later in the day, to thank the girl who helped him to get out of the Dog House!

I guess we all have had those times….the good times and bad

Marcel and I have been married for 41 years. We got married on D- Day. I have mentioned in a previous post, that he is a war buff. I wanted to be a June bride and he was able to pick a date that he could remember, so D-Day it was.

We met, as we worked in the same Bank. I was a teller If there could be a job more ill suited for me, this was it. No one could leave for the day, until the whole bank was reconciled.  I was very often the one, who struggled balancing my window. My co workers were not happy campers. He became my “knight in shining armor” the day he gently touched my shoulder and said “Let me help you with that!”

He, by his own admission, cannot keep a surprise gift from me. The first year we were going out, right before Valentine’s Day, he incredulously blurted out “Do you realize how much roses cost?” But I did get the roses!

We hadn’t picked a particular song we could call “our song. So one day, we were at a dance and a Willie Nelson song played. It was, “You Were Always On my Mind”. It seemed to fit us and we decided it would officially be our song. Months later, someone asked Marcel if we had a special song and he said “Yep, it’s a Willie Nelson song… (I swear he was not joking when he said this)…It’s” On the Road Again”

At some point, he started to draw me homemade cards. I cherish those the most. He is not an artist by any means, but he puts his heart and soul into them. The card for our Anniversary one year, depicted soldiers dragging themselves onto the shores of Normandy. Inside, he said something about capturing the shores for me. (Remember D-Day)

After having surgery once, I groggily opened my eyes. There at the foot of my bed sat Marcel. I knew he was waiting…watching. That scene represented so well, who he was in my life. He would never leave me…he was like a watchman for me.

Years later, when my son Richard, who I gave up for adoption, committed suicide, Marcel insisted that I get a Mother’s Ring. He wanted me to have it with Sean, Melanie’s and Richard’s birthstones in it. Marcel was not Richard’s biological father .Doesn’t that gives you an idea of what an unselfish and giving person he is?

He may not ever have been a hopeless romantic, but he has been a faithful husband, he has always provided for his family, he has stayed by my side, during some tumultuous years, his is a good father and grandfather, he doesn’t forget me when he goes to Dunkin Donuts and remembers that I like my coffee   light with one Splenda. He started a Handy Man business, after he was laid off from a corporate job, so as to support us... He always has supported my art endeavors and many times was involved with the set up of said projects…always willing…always proud of me. Decent is a word that comes to me.

Will I get a dozen roses this year?...not sure. Will I get a homemade card?...that would be great. Does he take care of our finances?…he’s right on top of them. Will he serenade me, along with Wille?... I can already hear a faint rendition of “On the Road Again”

My friend says she cries at weddings, not as some do, because they are caught up in the romance of the day, but because she knows what a hard road is ahead for the couple.

Because of Marcel’s love, I have come to know a few things about the Lord’s love for me,

He is humble

He has a sincere heart

He is able to take care of me

He is an extravagant, sacrificial giver

And to think our love began with my weakness in organization and math!

“For all that has been, Thanks”

“For all that will be, yes”