A Little More Cream and Sugar: Featuring: Naliyah Nana's Little Angel
92
A Little More Cream and Sugar: Featuring: Naliyah Nana's Little Angel
92Paperback
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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781491822012 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 11/04/2013 |
| Pages: | 92 |
| Product dimensions: | 8.50(w) x 11.00(h) x 0.19(d) |
Read an Excerpt
A Little More Cream and Sugar
By Jean "Notewell" Williams
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2013 Jean WilliamsAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4918-2201-2
CHAPTER 1
Affectionately Looking Back
For I know the thoughts that I think towards you, Saith the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you and expected end. Jeremiah 29:11
My birth transpired in the beautiful city of Dunkirk, New York on Lake Erie. That was amazing, someone please, say "Amen." In this beautiful city in upstate New York the sign "Home of Chadwick Bay" is written in purple. Anyone that knows me is aware that my favorite color is purple which represents royalty, and my birthstone is Amethyst, also purple. You may say, I have a witness of three; it is God's will that I be here, YEAH!
God has a plan for each precious life, even before conception. Raised in New York State, Dad's trade was construction, yet he continued to work in dead winter. Forging ahead in below zero weather, early morning darkness that seemed more like it was midnight than daylight. Many, many times the snow drifts reached beyond his shoulders. Dad started his day in thermal clad long johns, a coat and steel-toed boots and work gloves. He would be equipped with his lunch pail and thermos in hand for those who have no clue. The lunch pail was usually a square aluminum container or cylinder with a hinged domed top that held the thermos bottle. The bottle was insulated to keep its contents either cold or hot. Now, you can buy them with a window of five hours to keep contents warm and seven hours to maintain cold temperatures. Dad embodied a sense of accomplishment, vigor and purpose, whistling as he left for work. Dad was on a mission as he left the comforts of a toasty warm home, the heat produced by the crackling fireplace. Sometimes, it was necessary to also have the stove's oven door opened, the top burners on and most of the house closed off, just to stay warm.
The winters in Buffalo were harsh. Unfortunately, some of the dads today lack that zeal or passion, but drudgery and the mindset for living for the weekend, seems to be their goal. Our mom was an awesome homemaker, seamstress and cook, in spite of serious long-standing health issues. She was given up several times by the medical profession. Our mother lived about forty-five years longer; Praise God! Remember, God has the final say so. Her health was the pivotal reason for relocating back to her home state of Florida. Growing up, we experienced mom's exceptional cooking and baking. Delicious homemade bread (without a bread maker), biscuits, syrup, jelly rolls and doughnuts!
Mom introduced me to coffee. Every morning, except for when she was not feeling well, she made my Dad a hot breakfast of grits, bacon, toast, oatmeal, etc. We could hear the coffee percolating; its aroma floated throughout the house and piqued my taste buds. My brothers and I also had a hot breakfast daily accompanied with a One-A-Day Vitamin and a teaspoon of Cod Liver Oil, administered under the close scrutiny of a mother's eye. Fighting back the urge to gag, my brothers and I benefited from the medicinal routine. We were not often plagued with influenza and colds during the brutal winters.
Now, some of our children are sent to school with a nice cold bowl of cereal and milk poured out by them. Meanwhile, Dad and Mom are asleep (that is if Dad is around.) Mom taught me well, to cook, maintain and run a household. (I can still remember her saying "you cooked better when you were younger than you do now.") She was right, I am guilty. Our parents spent a lot of time with us. Many evenings, we piled into the car headed for the drive-in movies. The only girl, I was dressed in my pj's made by mom, loaded with sandwiches, Kool-Aid, (have not drunk much since) and, of course, the essential gigantic dripping with butter, bucket of popcorn. The entire family participated in softball, swimming and snowball fights. We would jump atop of Dad in mountains of snow, or lie down flapping our arms in the fresh fallen snow to create snow angels. The soft white glistening snow along with some sweet cream, provided us with homemade ice cream. Our little family did not eat on the run as depicted in some of the current commercials. The family meals, activities, and our love jelled our family structure. Our family's transition to another state as teenagers altered our closeness and we began to go our separate ways, which affected our family.
CHAPTER 2Caught Between Two Worlds
Pop Pop, Nana Jean, and Dad holding the baby Now therefore so shalt thou say unto my servant David, thus saith the Lord of hosts, I took thee from the sheepcote, from following the sheep, to be ruler over my people, over Is'-ra-el: 2 Samuel 7:8
We endeavored to share some family antidotes and our introduction to Jaffa. Now, shift with us, to the future of two young people and our future grandchild, unaware of the medical pilgrimage before us. Please, step back into time, with two young parents, recent graduates from their local high school with large dreams and plans.
One day, our son, Haywood, was in his bedroom upchucking as if he was being forced to. I rushed into his room. He was weak and drained. I immediately went into prayer mode. As time progressed, the family had to chuckle. The experience was one of the early signs; we had a baby on the way, Naliyah! (Note: I have personally seen and aware of other future fathers that have experienced this phenomenom.) As parents, our heart's desire was to experience the beauty of Holy Matrimony for all of our children and then the begating. Yet, we were grateful for our new addition. My husband and I experienced the traumatic loss of two infant daughters beyond five months of gestation. It was a great loss and left us with a very deep wound in our hearts. However, from the wound developed a lasting friendship with another young mother, named Gloria who had faced the loss of several newborn babies as well. She experienced my grief as I groaned, cried out in despair and anguish of soul, from our adjoining hospital room. Not only was a friendship birthed, but also subsequently, the mother to be and fellow patient gave birth to a beautiful little daughter, named Jocelyn. Like Hannah in the bible, God replaced my heartache with two fine sons, Haywood II and Kevin, a year apart in age and personality. Now, here we are on two journeys at the same time, one with a newborn granddaughter, and the other with my precious mother who is dying. Please, follow me as we retrace my mother's journey. Mother has just experienced the loss of her husband of forty-nine years! Now, a little frail, and without her life mate, she is readjusting into widowhood. Feeling her way, and very independent, she had extended stays in New York state and eventually moved to North Carolina, Georgia and then finally returned to her place of birth, Florida. Finally, in exasperation, the family firmly stated, "Mom, we cannot move you again." Sure – before we knew it we were on the highway once again to pick up Mother and one suitcase. Our eldest son's grandmother, Mrs. Queenie Robinson, shared this wisdom truth one day with me stating, "Love is what love does." So, in keeping with that thought, our family continued, "to do the loving and the moving." Mother put little value in material gain. She was known to give away sets of dishes, bedroom suites, she and my father (Edward) gave away their first home in upstate New York (according to my memory as a child, my parents informed me that they briefly resided in their home). During, mother's longevity, material gain had been acquired, disposed and exposed to her by several individuals of renown in the Hollywood Circuit. One of her mottos (walking away from all she owned), she would emphatically state,"I can always get something else," even at the age of eighty-five years young. A lesson learned, the essence of her motto is also reflected in the bible ... "what profit to gain this world's goods ... and lose your eternal soul?" The family enjoyed her delicious home cooked meals, sage and daily medical (aches and pains) updates. One day, complaining about her stomach to me, she was adamant, "no more surgeries." Ironically, a few days later, as I was approaching the doorway with her breakfast, I overheard her praying. Mother was asking God ... "take care of me, don't allow me to be a burden." Suddenly, I realized I was an outsider to a "sacred conversation." I forced myself not to cry; lanquid and with a raspy voice as cheerfully as I could called "Mom your breakfast is ready." (my tears still flow on that reflection.)
Our mom insisted that evening that my previously scheduled business seminar several hours away would still be attended. The ambulance was called, routine vitals taken, she knew to mention "chest pain,"and the veteran patient was admitted. Her statement given to her son-in-law, Haywood, was that "she was okay and the family was there if needed." Upon arriving at our destination, we were informed of her sudden surgery, my body had left town, but my heart and prayers were home. A very popular song was released a few years ago, but it rang true for me as the news hit me. The song was entitled "I Believe I Can Fly," applied to me somewhat as we drove back home. The surgery went well, but she was waiting for her daughter to return home. Catching me up to date, a wave of apprehension washed over me, over and over as she remarked, "something about this surgery was different." The comment was locked into my memory bank, for a fleeting moment it seemed my heart stopped. Her recovery progressed and we shared about her Lord, game shows and her favorite team the Atlanta Braves (she and my father talked about baseball players as if they personally knew them, familiar with individual homeruns, strikes, batting averages, etc. Sometimes, the family had to question my parents, to determine whom they were referring to during their sports heated conversations.)
Then abruptly, my mother began to deteriorate, experiencing acute pain in the lower extremities. Mrs. Gibson was a pretty lady, reflecting her Cherokee heritage, deep brown skin, ,and extremely long curly hair. Instead of eighty-plus years, she appeared to be about sixty years of age. Her appearance presented no clue to the seriousness of her medical condition. Our family came from nearby cities and also the states of New York and Georgia. Friends and members of our church family came to express their love and support.
During this precarious period, Naliyah's birth had already been scheduled for a Cesarean Section. I was "caught between two worlds." In addition, to the pressure, concern and exhilaration for Naliyah's delivery date, it is also the same day for final exams for the young father. Excitement, anticipation as our son who was enroute to the hospital, yet with a heavy heart and apprehension for my mother in I.C.U. at another hospital in the next city.
Wouldn't you know, coming down the hallway towards me, I viewed my baby who has become a father. He approached briskly with a gigantic teddy bear and an enormous smile. The very split second he greets me, my cell phone rings- – my Mother's physician, Dr. Theresa Delgado, is on the other end. We exchanged brief courtesies. My heart is pounding. Then, she says ,"Jeannie, Alma (my mom) is not doing well ... we have exhausted all means. I am afraid she is not going to make it." "Caught between Two Worlds" – at the same time, like a sandwich, life and death. Our son was now a young father and I was facing the eminent death of Momma. I felt like screaming and running, simultaneously. My body felt like lead, yet laughter and relief filled me. The baby has arrived! Not wanting to burden the new dad, I cried within myself, "please, God don't take my mother." I can still remember the ache in my heart like a terrible toothache that rocks your whole body at that critical time in our family's life.
It was comforting to have the assurance of knowing Mom made peace with God. We shared a sweet way to communicate – one blink of her eyes indicated she loved me, and two blinks, I loved her. Most importantly, three blinks of her eyes represented her love for Jesus. She prolonged her three blinks to convey, "it is well."
Is it possible you may be in a unique, yet difficult situation? Your medical prognosis is bleak, yet you feel well. Debating about bankruptcy, or should you file for foreclosure? Should I ask for a raise or just forego the health insurance plan, adoption or fertility clinic? You are also "Caught between Two Worlds."
CHAPTER 3Meet Naliyah
And said unto him, Hearst thou what these say? And Jesus saith unto them,yea: have you never read, out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise ? St. Matthew 21:16
Have you taken your thirty-one pills, liquids, capsules or gels yet? Our granddaughter, Naliyah, at the tender age of two years old, embarked on a very precarious seven-year medical expedition that continues to unfold daily.
We were attending a combination church and business event in Memphis, Tennessee, when our entire family's life shifted. Haywood, Naliyah's father, quizzed me about receiving a particular e-mail from him. Something was strange about the conversation, yet no indication was given by him of the storm that was about to be unleashed. Initially, I barely glanced at the email. I failed to recognize the chubby little girl (once referred to as juicy by a young teen mother whose child was a patient along with Naliyah). Her face was full; the eyes were practically swollen closed. Her long eyelashes were barely visible – then it dawned on me; oh my goodness; the child is Naliyah! She is a normally petite, pretty dove eyed, extremely long eyelashes – this could not be her. The picture left me stunned, weakened and troubled.
Tears gushed profusely. I cried until there was no strength within me. After a prolonged period of time, I layed on the damp bedspread and quietly began to pray.
I began to petition our Heavenly Father for strength, grace and wisdom. Entering into His Holy Presence, I drew strength and courage to finally return our son's phone call. Treading on water, we did our best to express our love, support and guidance to this young father.
Our family had not faced anything like this, nor of this nature, with any of our grandchildren. The Spirit of God impressed me to call one of my dear friends, Cynthia, who lived in Miami and employed by the University of Miami. Sharing a grandmother's concern and attempting to determine the cause of this sudden health dilemma to my friend, I can still hear her say "Jeannie, get that baby to Jackson (Jackson Memorial Hospital). You will sit all day, but they will find out what is wrong with her."
Cynthia was correct on both counts. After a battery of tests, blood work, the Nephrology team informed us that she had a childhood syndrome called Nephrotitus. The Syndrome causes the kidneys to retain the toxins in the body instead of eliminating them. Thus, began the numerous hospital stays, monitoring of fluid intake, output lab work, low fat milk, salads, pink cupcakes and pink stuffed animals. Predominately, Haywood, Aprelle (Naliyah's mother), her mom (Patty) and I manned our shifts, day and night. The total drive was four-hour round trips, usually driving the two-hour round trips to Miami, twice a day.
The young parents continued to work or attend college. Pop Pop Williams, Pop Pop Bobby, the siblings, the other grandchildren, family and friends were in and out during her hospitalizations. One day stands out vividly. We requested that two of our missionary friends come by and pray for the toddler. They were en route to the airport for a mission trip to Guyana, West Indies. The precious couple were in their late eighties (yes, you read it correctly.) Grandpa Hansel was declared legally blind, yet did all the electrical work for their neighbors and our common friend; Pastor Darlene, who resides in Trinidad, West Indies. His wife, Grandma Hansel, the founder of an orphanage also conducted lengthy crusades for decades in Guyana, West Indies. She was petite with beautiful silver hair gathered in a bun. After the couple arrived at the hospital, Grandma Handsel leaned over Naliyah and prayed one of the purest, most powerful requests I have ever heard. She prayed "Lord, heal this baby"--- Grandma ended this prayer a few words later. The toddler, who had picked up approximately several pounds of fluid, was discharged several days later after a prolonged hospital stay prior to their visit. Are you prompted to pray, or strengthen your prayer time? God is faithful and hears the cries of the righteous.
As you are being introduced to Naliyah, she has acuteness for direction and yes, previous conversations and surroundings. One of her favorite phrases is "remember I told you." One day the toddler and I embarked on a trip to the cafeteria. The intravenous fluid and I.V. board wrapped around her petite arm, she was leading "Nana." Nana - is the one who cannot find her car in the parking garage, unless she has her purse protruded in the elevator door and peers out. Her Nana is scanning her eyes, hopefully, towards the direction of her car in the parking garage. Great, Nana is at least on the right floor! As we began to leave the cafeteria, drawing a crowd as they listened and observed "our conversation." The toddler dressed in pink and giving me directions, stated "No this way Nana," ... as she directed me at the Jackson Memorial/Holtz Children's Hospital, similar to a small city. Naliyah stated, "straight ahead," and led us to the elevator, pushed the button for the fifth floor and then disembarked. She advised me to go straight ahead, pointed to her room on the right. The junket ended and Liyah stated, "I told you." My idea for a new game show "Are you smarter than your grandchildren?"
(Continues...)
Excerpted from A Little More Cream and Sugar by Jean "Notewell" Williams. Copyright © 2013 Jean Williams. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
Contents
Prologue,
Acknowledgments,
Introduction,
Poem Starting All Over, Again (Tributeto Grandparents), 14,
Coffee Nuggets,
Chapter One Affectionately Looking Back, 17,
Chapter Two Caught Between Two Worlds, 20,
Chapter Three Meet Naliyah, 26,
Chapter Four The Other Grandchildren (The new generation of coffee drinkers), 34,
Chapter Five Salute to Our Military, 45,
Chapter Six Naliyah's Medical Trek, 48,
"A Peak at Liyah's Menu",
Chapter Seven The Little Prayer Warrior, 56,
Chapter Eight Chuckles and Coffee Influence, 60,
Chapter Nine Her Expedition Continues, 66,
Chapter Ten The Coffeelade Factor, 72,
The Invitation, Prayer,
Foundations, Organizations, Facilities,
End Notes,