Tuesday, April 12, 2011

California Pretty

I told you all in the previous post about the trip Dallas and I took to Memphis, TN last month. Dallas was able to sit and chat with his Grandpa Wayne just hours before Grandpa passed away. It was a precious time.

When we arrived at the nursing home that night, Dallas’s uncle Tim was there to greet us. My ex-brother-in-law is one of the kindest men I know. He was 19 or 20 years old when I married his brother, Terry in 1982. Tim has a quiet, sweet nature, and when we first met he made me laugh. We always got along great, and I’m proud that Dallas gets to call him “Uncle”.

My ex-husband had apparently been to the hospital often to see his dad. I say “apparently” because the staff seemed to know who Terry was, but he rarely (if ever) visited his dad when the rest of the family was around. Wayne’s wife Sue hadn’t seen Terry in 15 years.

While we were all visiting in Grandpa’s room, a bubbly nurse came in and happily greeted “Mr. Clay” and the whole family. Terry’s stepsister, Tammy pointed at Dallas and said, “Do you know who this is?” She looked at my son and she knew immediately who he was.

“You’re that hot man’s boy. Oooo, you’re daddy’s hot.”

The Memphis family hadn’t seen Dallas Wayne in 13 years, and everyone was blown away by how very much he resembles the birth father he never knew. We all laughed at the nurse’s correct assessment of just how my son was connected to the family.

She looked at me. “His daddy’s hot.”

I said, “You don’t have to tell me. I’m the mama.”

You’re the mama. Oooo girl, I thought you were the girlfriend!” She crossed the room to deliver a high-five. “Where ya’ll from?”


“Oooo”, she squealed, “I’ve got to get out to California and get me some of that California pretty.”

Her enthusiasm was absolutely contagious—and her compliment was nice too.

The whole exchange got me thinking; do people know when they look at me that I’m God’s kid? Do they see the family resemblance?

Ooooo, I’ve got to me in The Word and get me some of that Jesus pretty.

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