Beauty in the Ashes

There is a reason I love this picture.  It was taken in  New Smyrna Beach, Florida in 1991. I was all of four years old. My father was teaching me a lesson tht has echoed throughout the rest of my life. I remember vividly the way he coaxed me out into the Atlantic, not content to let my worries keep me by the shore. There were forward steps I took myself; there were steps I was carried. Every time a wave came, my daddy would grab me by the hands and lift me straight up and over it, with my legs kicking the entire time, terrified he wouldn't lift me quite high enough to clear the water. Already plagued by a mind perpetually asking, What if? Every wave, every time...me flailing, my daddy saying, Lauren, I won't let you go under.   When I got too scared, he would have to pick me up and just hold me while the waves broke at his knees.  I don't think the story of Jesus calling Peter to walk on water was yet etched into my mind, but this memory will stay foreve...

     Writing about my Grammy feels a lot like describing myself.  This woman, like my other featured family members, has given me treasured experiences and taught me many valuable lessons.  More than anything, however, she has taught me a lot about what it means to be me .        My earliest memories of Gram involve nursery rhymes. When I spent the night, she would recite nursery rhymes at bedtime, and I loved trying to remember all the words.  In one of my literacy courses in college, my professor expounded upon the importance of teaching children these rhymes, and I was grateful Grammy took the time with me.  Taking time...that is pure Grammy.  My mind fails to call up a picture of a more patient person.  Have you ever taught an eight-year-old to knit?  And crochet?  And cross-stich?And embroider pillowcases with piggies?  And line dance?  She has.        Sleepovers were ...

           One of my favorite parts of my early elementary school days involved shopping (no surprise there).  Every year, around Christmas, "Santa's Workshop" would come to town.  It set up shop in our Gymnacafetorium, and we bought wonderful goods for our families and friends.  Over the years, I found a quality friendship necklace for Audie Horrall, a crocheted snowflake for my mom, and some other fabulous gifts for lucky recipients.  The best year by far was the year of the award ribbons.  They looked like grand prize ribbons from the county fair, but they were attached to safety pins.  Wearable art, pals.  That year, Santa's Workshop made one of the best Christmas memories because my cousin Matthew and I (an hour away from each other in our respective schools) had each purchased a ribbon for our grandparents.  I got "Classy Lady" for Grammy; he got "The Boss" for Grampy.  They still have those ribbons. ...

     Papaw and Me somewhere in Florida (our favorite place to be!) -1987      Call it destiny.  Call it fate.  Call it the effect of the first grandchild.  Call it the joy of torturing Granny.  Whatever you call it, Papaw and I have always had it--an instant connection that bonded us for the ages.  I love to hear my mama tell of the day I (as a sweet, precious, and perfect baby) would not, for anything or anyone , stop SCREAMING.  My parents, probably completely exhausted, finally called Papaw.  Mom says that when he held me, I miraculously stopped crying.  Just like that.  That was the beginning of a life spent in Papaw's arms.   This picture makes me feel safe!      As I have written before, I spent an enormous amount of my childhood growing up in the funeral home/ambulance service world of my grandparents.  How either of them found time to teach me anything while running two b...

     I must apologize to my readers for the postponement of yesterday's Family Feature Friday.  I could not decide who to write about, but then I realized I had already started a Family Feature on my Granny back on her birthday with this:       " Happy Birthday to the lady who taught me how to be one!  She also taught me where to shop, how to find the best children's books, the wonder of petit fours, how to heal a broken heart, that getting my B.S. degree was NOT optional ("Education, education, education!"), the importance of always being kind and keeping it classy, and how to throw fabulous Christmas parties! Love you with all my heart, Granny."     Though that sums things up rather well, I want to take an expanded look at my education.  Before I was born, Mom made plans for me to have a babysitter while she was working.  In the hospital on my birthday, however, Gran and Papaw announced that they would need t...

     Benjamin David McClure entered my life on May 5th, 1993.  I was just this side of six years old.  When my parents informed me, months earlier, that I was going to have a baby brother, I remember yelling, "Well, we better move that refrigerator!"  If my play kitchen set had to be displaced, so be it.   I  was to be a big sister!  In the hospital, I alternated between holding this precious baby (prettiest you ever did see) and barking orders at visitors to wash their hands.  From the very beginning, I was thrilled with my new role, despite asking once ( once!)  about the ramifications of throwing him in a garbage can.     In the hospital--his feet were so long!            Over the years, I tried to bestow all the wisdom my little life had to offer.  I have said before that when Ben was born, so was a teacher.  Perhaps the first thing Ben taught me was that I wanted to teach. ...

Love at first sight!      You, reader, have never (ev-er) met someone who loves home videos more than me.  Never.  Ask my mom, dad, brother, husband, anyone-they will tell you no one could gleefully sit through hours upon hours of home video footage without tiring of it like I can (and do).  Blame it on my childhood aspirations of fame.  One of my favorite scenes is from my very first starring role (see above still shot from the set of Good Samaritan Hospital).  On the day I was born, my daddy began to hug me, kiss me, praise me, and love me.     Beach Party                        I don't believe anyone understands my father better than I do because there there is no one more like my father than I am.  We have a very unique bond because of the quirks and interests we share and the way we both view the world.  Be it through our disdain ...

Even though I frequently forget what day of the week it is, I am going to kick off my new idea-Family Feature Fridays.  Each Friday (forgive me if it happens on a Saturday or Thursday or, let's be honest, even a Tuesday), I will write about a different member of my family and what that person has taught me.  In the spirit of Julie Andrews, I begin at the very beginning.  As we all know, it's a very fine place to start!      Dawn Alice McClure, my mama, taught me how to blow a bubble, properly shuffle a deck of cards, french braid, and bake perfect chocolate chip cookies and pumpkin pies.  She told me to carry a book with me everywhere I went, and that said book should be written by one Dr. Seuss, master wordsmith.   Said book by said wordsmith could be checked out of the most magical place in the land--the public library.      She took me through her own School of Rock by saying, "I'll give you a quarter if you c...