remembering papaw sam

We traveled to my hometown for my dear Papaw Sam's funeral a couple weeks ago. Besides the time spent on all the details and logistics that go into planning a funeral, there was a lot of time spent swinging and rocking on the front porch, eating the heaps of food brought by generous family friends, loving on our nieces. Papaw would have loved it. 

It's such a unique time when you're all together for a funeral. My sister's co-worker called in "sad fun" because you're together but not for the circumstances you'd prefer. And it was just that. My sadness has lingered more than expected because I will miss Papaw terribly; very few people in my life have made me feel as deeply loved as he did. I think it's also because of the reality that our days our numbered with the greatest generation of who my Papaw was one the greatest examples: full of humility and diligence. A generation giving way to the next, much faster than we’d all like. May we all take intentional time to soak up some wisdom like we have been so blessed to receive from our Papaw.

Because of how close I was to Papaw and because of how much I've learned from him in my lifetime, I've always known I wanted to speak at his funeral. And because I want you to know how wonderful my Papaw was, I've included my speech below. 

For Papaw

“To know him is to love him,” could not have been truer of my Papaw Sam. And though I am so sad to say goodbye to one of my very favorite people that I have ever known, I am overwhelmed with pride as I think through all the different characteristics that I could share with you today.

I could share about his deep, deep love. The kind only grandfathers possess. The kind of love that thinks his grandbabies could do no wrong. The kind of love that is never too busy and certainly not too proud. After all, he played countless hours of house with me in the backyard: fully in character as my little boy and I his mama. And fully willing to take a nap on his work bench like I demanded and for as long as I demanded. He was never too busy to help us shoot our first gun, to walk down to the pond to feed the ducks with stale sandwich bread in tow, to write the kindest of birthday cards year after year. It seemed nothing in the world mattering to him except to be fully with us in those moments. Especially as life’s pace only continues to increase, I can see what a rare and beautiful gift that was.

I could share about how enabling our Papaw was. How his words and his action provided us with heaps of abilities and confidence, making us feel like we could do or be or accomplish anything. And whether we were successful at it or not, we knew he was proud. Because he said so. He could even use something as simple as a trip to McDonalds. Story goes that he’d send Molly’s little blonde-headed self to the counter, telling her to order whatever she wanted and to just get him the same. So there they sit in my mind’s eye, sharing so much more than just happy meals. In the eyes of Papaw, we could do anything we imagined. And with love that strong, you couldn’t help but believe so too. When I left for college, he wrote me a letter that remains framed in every place we’ve lived since. He told me to “remember that I was Meagan, with the ability to choose the good things in life with no regrets.” Those few intentional lines have rippled such confidence through my life and my decisions.

There are really endless qualities of Papaw Sam that I would be proud to share. But for now I’d like to tell you about Papaw the Caretaker. As a diligent steward in all aspects of life, Papaw taught us what consistency looks like even in the least glamorous of tasks. You could always find him tending to the house or the yard, fiddling in his workshop or on the cars, or seeing to his rose garden. He selflessly wanted us to be prepared for anything – always taking the time to think of something we may need, some wisdom he should share with us. Always sending a boost in the funds to us poor college students. I like to think of him even as a caretaker of his country – serving as a marine in two wars and instilling in us such pride for our veterans. He was a faithful constant at Emmanuel Baptist in Minden. And, so I’ve heard, a class favorite here at FBC when he was able to attend. And even days before the end of his life, his greatest concern was not for himself but for his family. Papaw the Caretaker showed all of us what a faithful marriage looked like. A marriage to my amazing Mamaw that thrived for over 68 years. What a catch they had in one another. And with that role of husband, he nurtured a lasting family dynamic. One of loyalty and of faith. Even in his living he was our caretaker as he prepared us, possibly unknowingly, for his death. Because of his legacy, we have siblings and children, aunts, uncles, and cousins to lean on and cry with through his loss. Most importantly, through his life that reflected his faith in Jesus, he taught us that our hope is in the Lord - offering us peace knowing that he is spending eternity with Jesus. There is no greater gift.

Even though in the eyes of the baby granddaughter, Papaw could do no wrong, we won’t tell you he was perfect. What we will tell you that, because of his 94 years, we are better people, better fathers and mothers, better spouses, better employees and church members, and better followers of Jesus.

We will miss you terribly Papaw. We will remember your sweet smile, your big hands, your long jokes and stories. We will remember your lessons and your love. And we will do our best to live remembering one of my favorite saying of yours: to remember that life is a big bundle of little things, so have a little fun each day. We love you.

mamaw turns 90

If I, Lord willing, get to celebrate my 90th birthday, I hope I will be up for a girls trip with my daughter and granddaughters just like my wonderfully spunky Mamaw Loyce. I hope I'll want to eat Italian food and go shopping and get facials and go for pedicures. I hope I want to sightsee and have a two hour breakfast in bed and go to brunch and eat enormous amounts of chocolate cake.

When together, we talk and laugh and carry on so much that multiple people told us we needed our own reality show. This, of course, makes us completely unfit for the relaxation room at the spa. We're too loud even post-massage. All of this makes me incredibly thankful for all these favorite females of mine and the opportunity to be together. 

Happy 90th Birthday, Mamaw! I'm so glad you were born and that you are the matriarch of our family. I'm so glad to be called "Little Loyce" at family reunions. And I'm so glad for your indescribable love! 

summer 2013

Since I have been an uninspired blog-keeper this summer, a general update.

This summer has been one of transition. To a new house. To a more-official floral design position. To parenting a new pup. To much-needed involvement. To a hint of normalcy.

This normalcy looks like full calendars - a personal [possibly unhealthy] love of mine. So full that is calls for mini family meetings and plenty of time spent plugging in reminders and appointments and events into the calendar. I know that this is a very normal thing in the life of the average American [and beyond]. But for the last twelve months, our weeks have been the bare minimum. When you are a new member of a church or a business or a community, involvement is limited. Read: people-time is limited. This summer I am beyond thankful for the Lord providing us with busy days filled with events that need florals, church ministry responsibilities, dinner with new friends, family that needs celebrating.

This time last year, I was going to the grocery store because it was my only source of human interaction while D was at work. I know now that that was a season with purpose. But these days I wouldn't be surprised if I saw someone I knew in the Piggly Wiggly or Publix or (dreaded) WalMart. A wonderful, welcomed change even if I'm in need of a good hair-washing.

Summer 2013 began with our move to the new house. Things are shaping up, and there may possibly be some pictures soon since I'm learning to rangle the shedding dog and mulching area rug with this and this.

Less than a week later, we headed south for Anna's [who is absolutely "the apple of our eye"] first birthday party. It was all hands on deck for decorations and favors and food. At one point, D was slicing apples and cutting tiny little hearts out of their centers for apple and peanut butter sandwiches. We're rocking his all-boy-family world one birthday party at a time.

June, and then again in August, was peak wedding season bringing plenty of design and learning time. I did my first solo wedding and had the opportunity to assist Sarah with several more beautiful events. We ended the summer with bang: a two-wedding weekend with five venues in two days. I can honestly say that I've never been more exhausted in my entire life. Granted I've never run a marathon or given birth or, you know, climbed Mt. Everest. But I was worn slap out, y'all. And thanks to a poorly-chosen maxi dress, I was shuffling my chaffed self in on my extremely sore feet. Here's to adrenaline and pure creative satisfaction for carrying us through.

A trip to Ruston brought wonderful time with family, a bittersweet cleaning-out of Mamaw Mc's house, fresh Ruston peaches, and a tearful meeting of my best friend's baby boy. The pace at which our lives are moving is overwhelming at times.

We lost D's grandmother midsummer. It was the most sudden of any of our grandparents. And it's still hard to think that she won't be there when we visit this weekend. We had, as always, a lot of sweet family time through that heartache.

August began with a trip to Florida to spend some time with my dearest Ashley before her big move to the Middle East. It was perfectly timed, perfectly planned by a God who cares about details and emotions and friendships. We spent some time on the sand, around the table, at the outlet malls, and [most importantly] in our pajamas. We talked about memories and what life will be like after the move, what is most saddening and most exciting. An unexpected but completely perfect project was taking Ash's pictures and laying out her prayer magnet. Isn't she a beauty? We completely failed in our "no tears, just say 'see you later'" plan. So we cried and hugged and cried some more. And since then, we're thankful for international texting apps and email and prayer.

To wrap up a summer full of busy weekends was Audrey's SIXTH birthday. She's SIX. Impossible. We had a tea party with enough flowers for a small wedding ceremony. That evening, the entire fam went to the birthday girl's restaurant of choice - Chick-fil-A - where it's not difficult to get a table for thirteen on Saturday nights.

Today we are headed south for the wedding of one of D's groomsmen. This weekend will usher in [in my mind] an official beginning to fall bringing with it pumpkin-flavored purchases and LSU football. Here's to looking forward to sweaters and mums and Christmas trees and filled calendars.

remembering mamaw mc

Mamaw's funeral was a week ago tomorrow. It was a warm and windy Tuesday - very appropriate for my tiny Floridian grandmother. At 83, she lived a long and purposeful life as a devoted daughter, mother, grandmother, friend, and wife. When her role as a wife ended three years ago, she sorely missed her other half every day. I can only imagine the reunion.

Last week was a reminder that our days with the Greatest Generation are numbered. That it takes intentionality to learn from the members whose formative years look so very different from our own. I've obviously thought a lot about Mamaw this passed week. Not just the sweet memories I have of her (though I was created with an extra dose of emotionally-charged nostalgia), but how I could honor her memory by simply being more like her.

I think about her when I choose to put the lighter back in its place after lighting a candle instead of leaving it on the nearest surface. Or when I rinse and reuse a butter container or when I follow a recipe to the T. I know I'll always remember her when I see blueberries or tea cakes - the two things she'd fill those reused, half-gallon butter tubs with for our trips back to college. Or when I see blue hydrangeas like the ones she grew on an astonishingly large bush in her backyard.

Our week in Louisiana was bittersweet, of course. Plenty of tears over our loss as well as laughter when recalling all of Mamaw's lovable quirks. When we were all about to make our way back to Alabama and South Carolina, my sweet parents thanked us for being there, reminding us that we did it again - we bonded together and took care of business. The McMahone way.

I know Mamaw Mc would be proud.

daddy turns sixty

I have a few fleeting memories of my dad's surprise 40th birthday party. I was a few days away from four years old and Biscuit, our Shih Tzu, was brand new and had to stay in the bottom half of a tiny cardboard box in the corner of the room. But I remember lots of loved ones and lots of appreciation for Don McMahone's life.

For the big 5-0 I'm pretty sure we went out to dinner and took him shopping for a new recliner.

Which obviously meant that year sixty called for a very special celebration for someone who deserves the biggest party every single year. Or possibly every month.
Between five courses of choices like espresso-cumin rubbed chicken and honeycrisp apple rosemary sorbet and Argentine short ribs over roasted garlic polenta, we talked about what Daddy hoped to accomplish in his next ten years. We talked about the numerous close calls he experienced as a young and adventurous boy [e.g. climbing ten-story-tall water towers and plenty of cotton mouth run ins].

And after a final course of bread pudding and bananas foster, Moll and I shared a surprise toast – good and teary, of course.

Happy 60th Birthday, Daddy.

It seems nearly impossible to put into words the thanks and appreciation that this milestone birthday deserves, but we will, as you have always taught us, do our best.

We've gained so much from you. Like why to look both ways on a one way street, how to rig a dripping faucet with a shoestring, and how to shoot a gun and not miss. One of us even got your good looks.

From you we've learned the importance of hardwoods over pines, a strong tennis backhand, and a well-built fire. Of efficiently shaped dinner plates, a cup with a good handle, and never missing a historical marker.

Not to mention all of life's basic necessities - like how to drive and change a tire.

And because of you we have unique loves of house plans and residential construction zones, of meteor showers, and of flying squirrels.

We've always known that if there was a project you could build it, a task you could complete it, and a problem you could fix it.

Besides teaching us what you love, you've given an astounding amount of your time for us too. For dance recitals and choir performances and football halftimes. For science fair projects and multiplication tables.

You are our provider of senior trip funds and overpriced prom dresses and college degrees and wedding expenses.

Better yet, you've provided us with a daily example of the person we want to become and, more importantly, the person we wanted to marry.

That person is a fiercely loyal spouse, a hard worker, a non-worrier, someone of unwavering character, and the best Pops there ever will be.

It's someone who gave us a foundation of steel in a fragile world. Someone who made us feel like we had unmeasurable worth and potential. And, when the time came, it's someone who gave our husbands the perfect balance of a whole lot of love, plenty of advice, and a little bit of fear.

So here is to sixty years of life that have made all of us better spouses, better children, better parents, better church members, better employees, and better friends.

We love you!

our louisiana christmas

Our highly anticipated Christmas vacation has ended as quickly as it began. Last night we came home to a perfectly green tree that we left neglected for two whole weeks. It's as if our little evergreen new we needed a little more Carolina Christmas.

The two weeks away were mainly characterized by family and eating only carbs and sugar. It could have been an experiment for what it's like living in a family compound, sharing all kinds of responsibilities under one roof. We took dogs out and fed cows and passed the baby around so someone else could stir what was on the stove at the time. We took turns playing with our favorite five year old and wrapped gifts and decorated trees. We watched movies and played late night charades. We baked enough sweets and dips and casseroles that our Southern heritage never be questioned. There was even some fence-building. And there was target practice with both pistols and shot guns, of course.

After spending a week in Franklinton and a week in Ruston, there are plenty of characteristics that stand in stark contrast of one another, and there are plenty of that don't. Though there was certainly no fence-building or cow-feeding as my mom's house, both weeks allowed for those conversations that don't normally happen over the phone or through a text. They brought plenty of time to be lazy bums and opportunities to live daily life together. There was time to sneak off and hug all those long distance forever friends. We spent the vast majority of that time laughing and, in the quiet moments, we remembered we had much to be thankful for - for health and safe travel and the deep love of our families. For those family members whose lives are quieting though their influence never will. And for those who fill that noiseless void with he sound of bouncy balls and baby squeals.

We are happily unpacking in Columbia, looking forward to what this new year in what still feels like a new home will bring. I hope you had the happiest of Christmases, that you cherished time with family, and that you tried, for another year, to grasps the miracle of Christ's sacrificial birth.

And if you want to keep celebrating, head over to King Street. I'm determined to keep our tree up until every branch is brown!