"Sen-TEA-mental"

...when I call to remembrance the genuine faith that is in you, which dwelt first in your grandmother Lois......., and I am persuaded is in you also. (2 Timothy 1: 5, NKJV)

This past week, I have been on a sen-TEA-mental journey of sorts. I've spent time with both my brothers (tea drinkers together as kids) as well as cousin Joy. Joyce, as others call her, was a big part of my childhood, tho we lived in different states. (only 24 miles apart) She's always been a Tennessee gal---I've just re-located here from Kentucky.

Sen-TEA-mental--that would be me---it's the adjective that modifies the cuppa I drink from a lot lately. It’s this emotional tendency that causes me to "puddle" at inopportune times. It's  where most of my "house" clutter originates….it's so hard to part with things that prompt feelings of tenderness and nostalgia, along with a little sadness woven in.

Parting from dear ones, those whom I rarely see, always has me excessively prone to those feelings. Plus, on this trip, sweet Joy has given me, a sen-TEA-mental gal, great joy. She gave me Mama’s rocker.

Thus, this morning, coupled with the fact that my cancer doc visit would be in just a couple of hours, I gave into the excessive indulgence of my emotions. Praising and "puddling."

As Timothy's grandmother taught him the Scriptures from a young age, it was my grandmother, "Mama Davenport," who let me watch midget wrestling on Saturday nights and still got me up early for the walk to church the next day. 

She taught me scriptures as well....as we walked up Second Street turned right onto Union and a block later hung a right on to Madison Ave. and on down a ways to the First Christian Church. It was on the south side of the street on a corner and we always entered the front door, furthest east. Not sure why. 

I assume God knew that one day my faith would blossom, and my faith was due, in no small measure, to the godly upbringing and influence of Mama.

All of these sentimental thoughts of gratitude crowded my head as I had my cuppa seated in Mama's rocker and read Psalm 121 from her battered Bible. 

The thought that God might use me to pass on an eternal legacy to my children's children has me "puddling" in my sen-TEA-mental cuppa .