I thought of Charlie (Poppy) just now, as I often do these days, and began to cry. I know he is not suffering and is in a better place, but it's these times that I miss him. I spent a good bit of time while he was in hospital after the stroke, then the nursing home, and a bit more when he was hospitalized before he passed. Nobody can ultimately understand anyone's relationship with anyone as it is a personal thing that nobody can relate to, nor would I expect anyone would...and, that's a reciprocal thing. I feel so incredibly blessed at the time that I was able to spend with him during his last weeks, days. I would never even begin to compare my grief or level of sadness and closeness that others feel or had. I can tell you that regardless, I feel as if I lost someone who loved and accepted me no matter what I had done or what my life had been about. He was a real and true testament of what a Christian is and what I could only hope to aspire to be some day. I just feel blessed to have known and been around this remarkable man, not only as a part of our family as my brother David married his daughter Cheryl almost 18 yrs ago (this Aug), but as someone who appreciated me and loved me as if I were no less than a perfect saint. It's hard to believe that he's been gone 1 week as of earlier today. I will miss him every day, and will look forward to seeing him once again when we are all reunited one day. I know my SIL Cheryl, my brother David, my nieces Logan and Ellie need lots of love and support and prayers even now as they try to sort through and make sense of everything. Thank you to all of you whom have been there for them, me, and all of us. I can honestly say that I have met so many people were in some way impacted by knowing this incredible man. Hearing the stories over these weeks were just so great and gave more insight to man who never bragged nor talked much about himself yet had more concern of you or your family. That's a selfless and rare quality--evident even as he lay in his hospital bed. Whenever anyone walked into his room, his first words were nearly always inquiring about how this visitor's family member or spouse were doing. He never once complained. He thought of everyone but himself--even to the end. His last request to me was for a tomato sandwich. He wanted to know how I was feeling, when my surgery was and how my back was feeling. Not once did he mention his own possible pain, which he said was non-existent, nor did he express frustration or fear in his known limited time left on this Earth. A couple of weeks before he passed away, young youth minister asked Brother Charlie what wise words would he give him as his final thoughts on what is most important. His voice was weak and almost difficult to understand completely, but he said to live life always in service to others, with humility and with a loving heart. Those words were so profound. I will never ever forget those words, and feel so blessed and grateful that I was able to hear those words from someone who lived his own life in that manner. I resolved that very day to carry on and allow him to pass his mantle, which was mentioned to me by a beautiful young lady from a church who had come to visit Charlie. I wasn't quite sure what that meant, but realize it is mostly figuratively meant: a mantle, as described back during the days during Biblical times referred to physical heavy cloak to keep someone warm from cold, but also worn by those in authority. The Hebrew word for mantle is defined as an ample or large cloak, but figuratively, it is defined as powerful and godly. With those definitions more clear, I read a bit more, and it became clearer to me. I now believe the figurative nature of this challenge was that it's signifying the anointing and godly attributes to be passed on from Charlie to me, as well as others, such as Elijah passed onto Elisha. There are many more Hebrew interpretations that can be translated, however, the simplicity that I feel is that Charlie passed his mantle of goodness, godliness, love, and humility to those of us who choose to do so, no matter how unworthy someone like I feel that I am! I feel I have an obligation to God and to Charlie to live my life cloaked in his mantle, living the life God would want me to live and to know that no matter who I am or what sins I may have committed in the past, I AM worthy of this mantle, which can protect me during many trials and tribulations and several circumstances. There are MANY blessings available to all of us because we are ALL a child of God. We all need to seek The Lord and making use of this anointing and power that He has made available for ALL of us, regardless of where we have been. We all are His, and He loves ME and all of us unconditionally, now and forever. So much of my life has been a disaster, mostly because I felt I didn't deserve happiness or anything good. Charlie showed me always, for the 18 yrs that I knew him, and especially the last few weeks/months, that even I am significant. That I am worthy. No matter how I am treated and left out and made to feel as if I wasn't "good enough" or my health issues and inability to physically work and support myself is somehow "in my head" or because people even closest to me don't understand what difficulties I endure and how even I feel worse about my situation than how they could possibly inflict further guilt and make me even question my own truths. It DOES NOT MATTER! God feels that I am worthy and the godliest person I have ever encountered felt I was worthy.
This has turned out to be me much more involved and revealing than I had intended. I feel compelled, though, to say a few more things. I was raised in a strict Christian home--The First Presbyterian Church--or the "Frozen Chosen"--I went to church and Sunday school, and youth groups, youth retreats and sang in the choir from childhood even up into my early adulthood years. I was incredibly active there, as my parents were and insisted that we were to be as well. I taught music for the younger Bible School kids, kept the nursery and even taught the younger kids in Sunday school classes. In fact, as a teen, I made friends who went to a local Baptist church here. Their church and ways of worship and fellowship were far different, but I changed because I felt it was better and I felt a "presence"....not long afterwards, around the time I was graduating from school, I had something extremely traumatic happen to me. I would rather not divulge the specifics for the sake of some privacy and not to point fingers. I went from a pretty nerdy kid who spent lots of time at church to a polar opposite person--I found myself incapable of dealing with what had happened nor did I have a safe haven so to speak, so I acted out...my parents ended up housing me in Greenleaf --which if you're not from here--it's an in-house treatment facility which treated adults/teens/clinically depressed/substance abusers. I became honest and admitted that I had been abusing drugs and alcohol for 3 months. Now, was I an "addict"? No....most likely not at all. It was just a coping skill I had adapted -my parents were mortified and had a difficult time even visiting--only choosing to do so when necessary. It was difficult especially due to my dad's employment by the state at that time as a DA. Not blaming them at all because they did the best they could with what they had. Nobody is perfect, nor do I want this viewed as an attack on my family. Just know we all deal with drama and grief in many ways. I had the preacher of this Baptist church come to visit me. I felt a little apprehensive, yet felt that he had God's ear and he would be able to talk to God on my behalf--hopefully "plead my case" so God would understand why and find mercy. What happened, though, defined the following 25 + years of my life. Instead of talking about God's love and mercy, he felt it necessary to tell me that God was disappointed in me and that I would spend eternity in Hell, especially when I told him that I was angry and upset with God for allowing what happened and how he had allowed my grandmother to become terminally ill when she had lived her life as a good Christian. From then on, I felt that God couldn't possibly be a loving and fair God for allowing such horrible things to happen to people who didn't deserve it. So, the next 25 yrs, I lived a decent life. I was always good and kind to all people, was always very open minded, but would not allow myself to be a "Christian" because my experience had left me completely unaccepting of being known as one of "those" because as far as Christians went, they were definitely not "Christ-like" in behavior and belief. I'm not saying that I felt superior --not at all. I had a series of personal setbacks that made me the daughter my parents were repeatedly embarrassed to talk about, and were generally relieved that I lived in ATL and spent as little time at home through the years. I isolated myself, as well as I was isolated by my entire family. The few times I did visit, however, Cheryl's daddy always greeted me as if I were missed and loved so much. He always made me feel as if I mattered. Through the years, I noticed that no matter WHAT, he never ever once treated me nor greeted me any differently than any other time I had made a trip home. But even as I felt guilty and unwanted, guilty for the inadequate time spent with my nieces and as if my presence was more of a "had-to-inclusion", this man not ONCE treated me any differently as if I had not done anything wrong. He always seemed genuine and sincere in his interactions and his hugs and loving acceptance at many times made me feel as if he were the only person who cared. I don't say these things to make anyone feel bad or to speak Ill of my family, because I was not willing to put forth effort with them either, as hurt and resentment from many years had festered. Not only that, but my own guilt in my shortcomings made it impossible to be loving or loveable-especially as I spent 12 of those years in an abusive relationship and chose "him" over "them"...through it ALL, Charlie, or Poppy, never ever at any time passed judgement against me, nor did he make me feel as if I wasn't good enough...He was the one and only person that I felt loved me unconditionally and thought of me as a precious child of God. In fact, I would begin asking to go to church with my brother and SIL and nieces. I didn't necessarily agree with all of the doctrine expressed by this particular Church, but I felt a presence of His Spirit that surpassed any other feelings. Many days, as I would attend, I would be moved to tears. I wanted to be a good person just like Charlie. When he had his stroke, I would visit him in the hospital and then the rehab unit...and he and I would just talk about this or that--nothing of any real importance, but I loved to make him laugh. One day as I left him, he thanked me. I was blown away. I couldn't imagine why someone like him could thank me?! He would thank me for making him laugh. That's something that I always enjoy....making people happy or to laugh. When he moved to the nursing home, I would go see him sometimes on my own, and sometimes I would take my niece up there after picking her up from school. That was our "thing". I would always joke around about his "little duckling lady stalkers" that lurked outside his room in the nursing home, or when he was unable to eat solid foods, I would tell him my cat would even turn her nose up at that puréed mess..And he would laugh and laugh. That would always make me so happy. In some small way, I felt as if I was able to give him something, although small and inconsequential, to show him my love and appreciation in how he treated me over the years--however, I never felt I'd never be able to repay him for his love and kindness. He also would brag about my "collard greens" cooking. This, I took as an ultimate compliment. He loved his daughter and his nieces more than anyone could love someone....but to receive the highest praise like that would make me feel again as if I did matter. I knew I would never ever measure up and be thought of as his own daughter Cheryl, whom he literally lived his life serving The Lord in return for her healing from a bout of pneumonia that was close to taking her life as a young child shortly after his wife Virginia had died only a couple of years after Cheryl was adopted. Nor would I ever be measured in the same way as his granddaughters, my precious nieces, Logan and Ellie. And, as Charlie so proudly stated as he married my brother to Cheryl in 1996, and as he told him in his final days, that David he considered the son he was never able to have. Although, I was none of those, I still felt just as loved by him and just as important to him. That's what made me feel so special.
It's probably difficult for many to understand or "get why" I felt compelled to spend so much time with Charlie sitting with him for many days, and for many hours. I never once wanted any recognition, nor praise, nor any fuss made over it at all. Many days, I felt that my presence was viewed for selfish reasons...and perhaps they were....but it was only because I felt a peace and great honor to be in his presence. I told him twice--as well as my SIL Cheryl--that I owed him a huge debt of gratitude. By his actions and words and loving kindness, he ALONE showed me by how he treated someone like me and how he raised his daughter to live in the same manner, that he saved my life! I was not a "bad person" per se, but I didn't understand what being a Christian meant. He opened my eyes to that and made me a Believer---a Believer because he showed me by his actions and how he lived his life!! Not by word alone, but by works. He served The Lord and lived his life serving with humility and a loving heart. Just by being in his presence I hoped to somehow absorb and be worthy of carrying his mantle and becoming anointed and accepting of the godly attributes he was so willing to pass on to me or others. I began to feel as if my presence there may have been viewed by others in the family as "tiresome" or exhausting, or as if I wanted to be the "center of attention". That could have not been any further from the truth. He and I had a conversation when he went into the hospital that he had no need to entertain me nor should he feel compelled to do so. I merely wanted to just sit with him and care for him in whatever way I could to show him my humility and love--similar to the "foot washing" stories my SIL and he would recount from church visits from her childhood. I felt that it was the least of anything that I could do for a man so great that had shown me the truth, the way and the Light. I felt so honored to be in his presence, and when visits were asked to be fewer and less, it broke my heart. I knew that he and I had a good conversation when I brought him the prayer shawl, and I know he knew just how much I appreciated and loved him, but even at that point it never seems like it's ever enough when you want to repay someone for saving your life. I guess I just want to let everyone know how much Brother Charlie Scarborough (Poppy) meant to me. Although, as I stated earlier, we were "family" by marriage, he also had become my best friend as well. Jimmy Bennett, a wonderful young man, whom Charlie adored, and I had heard of only, came and stayed many times with Charlie in the hospital to relieve the family, also. He happened to be present not long after the doctor came in the first Friday night and informed that cirrhosis of the liver, as well as the tumor had been diagnosed. He told me that night how much Charlie had meant to him and how much he admired him, and that he was his best friend. I look back and cherish those days I was able to sit with Charlie. He taught me more in those last 2-3 weeks than I have learned in a lifetime. I may not have ranked highly on the "family" hierarchy" but nothing will ever take away the love and friendship and the unconditional acceptance an 81-yr old widower preacher from Sopchoppy, Florida showed me. I know it's not anything I can even adequately put into words, but not for lack of trying! But I just wanted the world to know what this man did for me, how he saved my life and my soul, even as he lay dying....Brother Charlie was far more concerned with my life than his own. And that will never be forgotten. I hope to be a fraction of the person he was. I am lucky and blessed, and I thank my SIL especially for sharing her amazing daddy with me and with all of us. Cheryl, that is the selfless love he raised you to give, and you have more than made him proud. Love to my family and many apologies for not being the person I should have been. I promise to live better--as your daddy lived, so that I can be a good and godly woman that would make you all proud to have around for now and forever.
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