Elegy for Mama

Today, I am grateful for the wonderful woman God gave me to be my mama and my friend. Twenty-one years ago today, my mother left this earth and entered into the realms of Glory. I remember the battle to keep her here as I was told by my friends, Rob Covell and Lori Williams, who worked for Madison County EMS, and by Dr. Adolfo Dulay. I appreciate everything they did, but God had other plans for my mother and he allowed her to go Home. She had a hard life, losing three of her precious children, who she was reunited with. Although many times I wish she was still here, so I could share a problem I have with her, or to share a moment of happiness, I know that I would never want to remove her from her place of Joy. She is in the presence of the Lord.

Tara: An Essay in Beauty and Class

 

“Oh Jacob. That is so special. I adore you. You are one of God’s gifts too. Thank you for being a friend to me. It means more than you know.”  Tara Burtchaell, May 2, 2019

I didn’t know it at the time, but I would also speak to Tara (a friend from my days at Florida State University) via social media once more. Six months and five days later, she would be dead. Death sometimes can play cruel games with the living and I didn’t discover my beautiful friend’s fate until this past Saturday, January 4, 2020. That is the day a celebration of life service was held in her memory at Peachtree Road United Methodist Church in Atlanta. Of course, life can sometimes appear to be cruel, and, amid all those in-between months, I was busy as my brother had one massive heart attack in July, and another four days after Tara was ushered into Eternity. During this turmoil, a childhood friend and the valedictorian of my senior class, passed away. I guess it can be overlooked that I hadn’t checked in on Tara more.

The conversation I had with Tara that evening had been shortly after the death of her mother. Tara absolutely doted on her mother and had sat by her side during her illness. She was distraught over her death and told me she was struggling with the loss. I shared with her that I had lost both of my parents, and that I care for my brother and sister, Abbie Gail, who has developmental disabilities. I explained how Abbie has been like a daughter to me, although she is only six years younger. That is why she responded the way she did during the conversation.

For all intents and purposes, Tara and I should have never been friends. She came from class. I was a dirt-poor farm boy. She was beautiful. I was just me. Tara and I would go to plays together, and occasionally, to dinner or lunch together, but it was always as just friends, although I had the biggest crush in the world on her.
Miles, years, and circumstances separated us. She left and went to New York City before she returned to her home in the Atlanta area. I settled in the north Florida area to a life that was nowhere near as exciting as hers.

Tara went on to work on and produce such TV shows as Good Eats with Alton Brown, Dancin’ the Dream and Dance Crash with Brandee Evans. My favorite work she produced and wrote was a cartoon based on the Elf on the Shelf books titled Elf on the Shelf: An Elf’s Story.

I wish life had afforded me the opportunity to talk more with Tara. I wish I had known her more than I did. She was such a beautiful person. More Important that that, she was a kind person.

Through the Fog

Three years ago, I began writing a book about being a caregiver for my sister. The book still hasn’t been finished and it’s shifted to not only being about Abbie, but also about Danny and my attempts to help care for them and provide for their needs. For so long, I have attempted to care for my family but time after time, I find they care for me. I once dreamed of a day when I can make enough money editing and writing to pay off our house, our car, provide food, and other necessities and be able to live stress-free. Maybe I will, but even if I never do, I know God is always good to me and my family. Below is the original beginning of the book I began about Abbie:

Through the Fog

A heavy fog blanketed the roadway on a misty morning. As my low beam headlights cut through the fog, I began wondering about my sister, Abbie, and more specifically, about the way she thinks.

I wondered if her thoughts were foggy, and that made it more difficult for her to be dependent, as a mentally-challenged individual. I wondered that, if sometimes, when I see her smile because she has had an epiphany that her low beam highlights had not increased with a flick of the switch or a tap of the toe to full brightness.

I often wonder how Abbie’s mind works. Since it is a rare occasion that she ever speaks, there are many questions that I ask her that go unanswered unless the answer to the questions comes through body language – a smile, a frown, a shrug of the shoulders, shaking her hands in frustration, tapping her fingers on the top of her head because she has a headache, or touching her finger to her forehead to indicate she is thinking about the question that I asked.

People often ask how I communicate with my younger sister. I tell them that it’s hard to explain, but that, if you have been around her as often as I have, you learn to pick up on her non-verbal cues and facial expressions.

Maybe others do not see my sister the way that I do, but I see her as a genteel, Southern lady, a “steel magnolia” – “Gentle as the sweet magnolia/Strong as steel, her faith and pride/She’s a everlasting shoulder/The leaning post of life…” (Lyrics from “Eagle When She Flies,” written by Dolly Parton). Abbie has the gentlest heart of anyone I know, yet she is strong-willed and strong-minded. When she is soft, she reminds me of my mother, and the character played by Darryl Hannah in the movie, “Steel Magnolias.” When she is strong-willed and strong-minded, she reminds me of the character played by Shirley MacLaine in “Steel Magnolias” and the character played by Jessica Tandy in “Driving Miss Daisy.” Sometimes, I think she is going to look at my brother, Danny, or me, in a combination of a strong-willed and soft-hearted moment when she has had us do her bidding, and proclaim like Miss Daisy did to her driver, “Hoke, you’re my best friend.”

As the rain falls outside my window, and I hear the pitter-patter of it to the ground, I give thanks that God has given me Abbie for a sister. Some may see my work with her as a challenge, but, for me, it is a great opportunity, and one, for which I will always be grateful. I will wander through the fog with Abbie until the end of my days.

Granddaddy’s Secret Elixir

I had a million things on my mind as I tried to sleep one night. Much of my time, but not nearly enough, was spent in prayer.

As I walked down the halls of sleeplessness, I began opening many doors. The doors held long-forgotten memories.

One memory that I recalled was from my Granddaddy and Granny Sealey’s anniversary party. I believe that it was their 41st anniversary. Everyone enjoyed a cookout outside my grandparents’ home in Lee. There were many people, mostly family, all there. I remember a band playing country music. The members of the band included my mama’s first cousin, Mason Linton, and her cousins, Trent Lasseter and Brenda McCormick. Jimmy Kent played the guitar. Her cousin, Faye Kervin, sang a song or two. Mama’s brother, J.D. Sealey, sang. I am still wondering if Mason and Jimmy still play. I don’t think Faye sings anymore. I do know that Trent and Brenda still play.

I believe that it was a year later, maybe less, than Granddaddy died.

Granddaddy, along with my daddy and my Uncle Billy, were probably my childhood heroes. Granddaddy had grand plans for the two of us. Many of them, like the go-kart he was going to build for us, never materialized. I understand, though, that it was because he did not have the time. He had to work. He had to work a lot but he still took time out for his firstborn grandson.

I can still remember my granny and granddaddy getting into little spats when I was a child. Granddaddy would get in his car and leave in a huff. Soon, he would be home and wouldn’t be grumpy anymore.

I always wondered where Granddaddy went. One day, my daddy and I found out. There used to be a general store in Lee run by Bert Stroup. On this particular day, when Daddy and I went there to buy Coca-Colas, we discovered my granddaddy, Jake Sealey, in there drinking one of those eight-ounce Coca-Colas that they used to bottle years ago. With youthful wide-eyed wonder, I looked up at my mother’s father like I hadn’t seen him in years and said, “Hey, Granddaddy!”

“Hmmpf!” was his reply but it did not deter me because I was excited. I had discovered the secret elixir that would end his grumpy mood.

Sometimes, I wish that I could find me an old eight-ounce Coca-Cola and drink it and chase my problems away, but I know that drink had no influence on him other than as a pacifier that gave him time to think things through.

God is the answer to my problems and I know that I should spend more time in prayer and Bible reading with Him.

Photo by Caleb Oquendo on Pexels.com

Cardinal on the Garden Wall

I saw a cardinal on my garden wall,
For some reason I wondered if we would have a cool fall
Or if summer will linger like lyrical
Poems I remember like a miracle.
I sit here, remembering classes at FSU,
Walks I took with Sigrid and Amy too,
Studying communication and the Fine Arts,
While Tara and Paige held my heart.
There’s no hurt like unrequited love when you’re in its throes,
Wondering if your present can ever pass and become tomorrows,
I see another cardinal on my garden wall
And remember fondly those old college falls.

Cage Without a Key

Someone out there has a key to the cage I am trapped in.

It is cold here. It is damp here. It is dark here. It hurts here, but it is not from the physical pain. The prison I am locked in is on an island. The island is isolated. I am the only one here. I am lonely.

I know one day someone special will come and put the key in the lock and let me out of this prison and take me away from this penal institution of doubt, fear, nothingness, and being alone.

I thought I had broken free but I was wrong. I was captured again and placed back in here by someone who I had given the power to do it. I let down the guard to my heart. My mind should never have wandered in her direction.

Someday, someone will bring me a key that will open the iron doors that hold me in. In the meantime, I sit here but my spirit flies free because someone took a cross-shaped key and opened a million other prisons for me when He carried that key up a hill called Calvary and opened the doors to my soul’s prison. I sit and listen to Him comfort me and keep me warm and free of fear and doubt.

Someday, someone special will bring me the key that will free me from my prison of physical loneliness, but Jesus makes sure my spirit is comforted and never lonely.

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My Special Needs Sister, A Typical Female

Just because my sister, Abbie, has special needs does not mean that she is not all female. This became clear to me when she was a little girl and she cornered a little boy she thought was cute as he walked out the door of the Assembly of God Church in Monticello.

I remember Abbie smiling down at the boy, who was shorter than she and backing him in the corner. He was dressed like a gentleman, in a coat, a bowtie, and a pair of short pants. I was watching, fearing for the little boy, sort of embarrassed because my baby sister was stalking the little boy like a cougar stalks its prey (yes, she was older, so she was a cougar in this situation). As she backed him toward the wall, my mother swooped in and rescued him by grabbing Abbie by the hand. Abbie smiled at the boy and then laughed.

I have further proof that Abbie is a typical female:

Years later, when I was a student at Florida State University, my parents and Abbie and my brother, Danny, went and picked me up to take me home for the weekend. Driving through Tallahassee on Tennessee Street, Abbie was looking out the window, on her side of the car, when a Jeep with four male college students rode up beside us. Abbie started smiling at them flirtatiously and batting her eyes at them. I was in shock! The boys started smiling back and the driver started honking the horn at her.

Further proof:

Years after the Tennessee Street incident, Abbie developed a crush on John Cena, so I took her to Tallahassee to watch John Cena wrestle. She wouldn’t even look at him, but Randy Orton was a different story. I guess Abbie has a fickle side too. She dropped John Cena like a hot potato that night and developed a crush on Randy Orton.

While the stories above are told tongue-in-cheek, they are true. I sometimes wonder what it could have been like if Abbie had been able to live a life like others do; if she had been able to experience the joys and pains of being a child who had been able to go to a mainstream school; if she had the chance to be a typical teenager, with all its joys and pains, going on dates, hanging out with friends, and having sleepovers with the girls; and what Abbie would be like as a wife to the husband she found, and a mother, and if her children would be as beautiful and kind as she is.

I know that Abbie will never enjoy what the world calls a “normal” life, but she does enjoy her life. She is a gift from God to my family, and we love her very much. We need her, as much, or maybe more, than she needs us.

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The Beautiful Princess

Once upon a time, in a fairytale land and in a fairytale castle lived the most beautiful princess ever written about. Like Helen of Troy in mythology, her face launched a thousand ships. Poets wrote poems about her but they could not capture her essence. The world’s master artists attempted to paint her but they could not capture her beauty.

She not only had beauty. She also had a great voice and a talent for music. People loved to hear her sing, for, in the sound of her song, one could hear the beat of her heart. In that beat, though, there was a longing – the longing was for her one true love and for things not of this world.

Each evening, she would gaze out her window at the heavens and wish upon a star. Somewhere, far away, there had to be a kingdom other than the realm she reigned over.

Far, far away, there lived a pauper who had only seen one of the paintings of the princess hanging in a museum. The beauty that the master had captured with oils on the canvas had failed miserably at capturing her true beauty but it was enough to stir a passion in the pauper. He yearned to meet her but how could he do it? He was but a poor, hardworking soul that knew his station in life. She was a princess.

The pauper looked at the book that he had owned for years. He felt its leather binding. It had been given to him as a child by his grandmother. It was the only book that he had ever owned but how he loved to read it. The book was filled with stories about history and mystery. There were tales of intrigue in it. It was filled with poetry and there were even stories of romance in it.

Towards the end of the book, there seemed to be a theme that brought the first part of the book together. In that part, there were stories about one Man. The pauper thought of how the princess would love to read about the Man.

He lovingly wrote a letter to the princess and found a box to put the treasured book in. He scraped up enough pennies for postage and mailed the letter and the book to the princess.

When the princess got the book, she began to read it. She devoured every word in it. As she got near the end, she learned about the Man. The Man’s name was Jesus.

As she sat in the bedroom of her castle, everything that had once before appeared beautiful to her now seemed drab and ugly. Even her reflection in the mirror had changed.

She fell to her knees beside her bed and asked Jesus to come into her heart and feel that longing and made everything beautiful again. He heard that prayer and faithfully answered it.

The longing for her one true love remained but she knew where to find him. She looked at the return address on the box containing the book.

She ordered a team of horses drawn up and she had her driver take her to the pauper.

When she arrived, their eyes locked. She was beautiful but she saw in him a beauty she knew that was created by his warm, caring heart.

They embraced. She whispered in his ear that he was to come and marry her and be her prince.

The two of them lived in the kingdom on Earth but knew that they had been promised a kingdom not made with man’s hands because in accepting Jesus Christ as their Savior, they were both children of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

And they lived happily ever after on Earth and then in Heaven.

By Jacob Bembry

Available in my book, HIGHER CALL, in paperback for $10 or $2.99 or FREE on Kindle Unlimited on Amazon. Signed copies of the paperback are available by sending $10 plus $3 shipping and handling to Jacob Bembry, PO Box 9334, Lee, FL 32059.

Portrait of a Pastor

People speak well of my pastor. The people who speak well of him are not only the ones in his own congregation, but people in the Madison County, Florida, community, and I daresay an even greater area. Wherever he travels, Retis Flowers leaves an impression on people he meets.

Born a poor white country boy (with a nod to the Steve Martin movie, “The Jerk,” yes, he stayed that color, through hard work, he did not stay poor), Retis Flowers would go on to become a jack of many trades and he is the master of quite a few. Reared on a farm, his first job after he graduated from high school took him to Parris Island, South Carolina, where he became a member of the United States Marine Corps. The hitch in the Marines led him to a tour of Vietnam. During his overseas trip, he also visited other destinations such as Japan, Hong Kong, and China.

Pastor Flowers said no matter where he traveled, even if he could not speak the language, he always found someone who he could communicate with.

After he left the Marines Corps, the young pastor-to-be, who had no idea at the time what God was grooming him for, went back home to Suwannee County, Florida. Among the jobs he found was one as an electrician helping wire the new Gold Kist chicken processing plant which was being built near the river in Ellaville. He tells a story of a young man he was working with, who asked if he was a Christian, and he replied, “Yes. Why do you ask?” “Well, when I do something wrong,” the young man responded. “The others will cuss me out but you don’t.”

Soon to be Pastor Retis Flowers was putting the ethics he had a Christian to use in the workplace. Profanity was one of the reasons he had left the Marines in spite of being proud to wear the uniform that recognized him as one of America’s finest fighting forces.

“As a Christian, I knew it wasn’t right to use that language,” he said, “so I had to make the decision to leave the Corps.”

Later, Pastor Flowers would retire from the United States military, finishing his service in the Florida Army National Guard.

Retis Flowers met and married his younger bride, the former Janice Dykes in Dowling Park. He already had a daughter, Reta, from his first marriage and he and Janice added two more daughters, Edna and Regina. Reta is married to Ken Rankhorn. Edna is married to Amon Doyle. Regina is married to Brad Forrest.

Retis’ and Janice’s three grandchildren are Lindsey English, Amanda Doyle, and A.J. (Amon Joseph) Doyle.

In 1970, Pastor Flowers felt a calling to go speak to the District Overseer for the area for the Church of God to help Sister Lela Anderson keep open the doors of Midway Church of God in Lee, Florida. The overseer surprised him by telling him he was the new pastor there. Untrained, he stepped out on faith and took the pastorate Ordained by the Church of God, Retis Flowers has served as pastor in the Church of God for almost 48 years, most of the time he has served has been at Midway Church of God, with a brief respite in the 1970s when he served as pastor in St. Augustine, where he also worked as personnel director at a shipyard. He was in St. Augustine until he was called back to Lee by the congregation after their pastor had left.

During the years he has served as pastor at Midway Church of God, Flowers has been a chicken farmer and later became a school teacher. He served as a bi-vocational pastor, having one job as a pastor and the other in another field until he retired as a school teacher.

As the pastor of the church, he has always been there when church members are ill, or if they need anything. He has served the community as the treasurer for the Madison County Ministerial Association for a number of years. He served his fellow teachers and workers in the Madison County School District as a member of the insurance committee for the Madison County Education Association.

When people in the church and community speak about Pastor Retis Flowers, they speak with admiration. If I had to choose a person for the Madison County Citizen of the Year, it would be my pastor and my friend, Retis Flowers.

Brother Elvoye Thomas, currently the oldest living member of Midway Church of God, had been the one who had called Pastor Flowers back to the church in the 1970s. He was recently asked if Pastor Flowers were to leave if he would go get him.

“No,” Thomas replied, “I wouldn’t let him leave in the first place.”

My Sister and the Creepy Clown

My six-year-old mentally challenged sister, Abbie, who would was scheduled for heart surgery later that year, was scared by a clown.

The ear piercing scream broke the revelry the crowd was enjoying and caused them to fall into shocked silence. The whole city block seemed to be still for just a moment in time. The only sound was heard from my sister, Abbie, who was standing flanked on one side by my father and the other, in front of Jackson’s Drug Store and Harris Grocery in Monticello. She had basically caused the circus parade to come to a grinding halt.

Now, understand that Abbie was not solely at fault in this. She had been compelled to scream by what many children and their parents thought to be the funniest, most lovable person in the parade – a singing clown. The clown had spotted Abbie and realizing that she was mentally challenged, he had decided to brighten up the life of a six-year-old by singling her out of the crowd and singing to her.

Abbie didn’t like it. It was not the song she did not like. It was not the crowd. It was not the animals. It was the clown. Where others had seen a harmless person, Abbie had seen a monster.

In that moment, which still seems surreal to me, she had decided for two people, herself and for me, that clowns were evil. Gone were the days of good clowns like Red Skelton as Clem Kadillehopper or the clown I saw each afternoon on WALB-TV out of Albany, Georgia, named Clem Clown. My little sister, who was facing open heart surgery that year had screamed in horror. Because of that, even today, I am creeped out by clowns. Reading the book “It” by Stephen King only reinforced that fear.

This week, we have heard reports of clowns luring children into woods and into cars. Although I used to work for a man and his wife who had gone to Clown College in Sarasota and had done charity events as a clown, I still don’t trust clowns. Clowns have hidden their faces behind grease paint and the smiles of many look hideous. I know that all clowns are not evil, like the one who sang to Abbie could not have been more apologetic and sought my mother’s forgiveness profusely. I even have friends who share Jesus through clown ministries.

Clowns still creep me out today

But still…the older I get, the creepier the thoughts of clowns become and the memory of that moment in time from my childhood remains etched in my brain forever.

Now is not a good time for clowns to be seen in public, unless it’s at a circus. They don’t need to be seen in restaurants or anywhere near schools or daycares, or near my home. If you’re thinking of going dressed as Pennywise at Halloween, please don’t.

I was scared by the clown that evening because I was scared for Abbie — who along with my parents, and my brother, Danny, and sister, Debbie — were the most important people in the world to me. You never know when someone who has a heart condition like Abbie had could be scared to death.

You can get my books “Higher Call,” “Sudden Death: God’s Overtime,” and “Crimes Seen” available on Kindle and in paperback by going to Amazon.com