The Expression of Love

Our Sunday School teacher kindly asked me if I would write a story for this Sunday, Dec. 27 on the Love Chapter from Corinthians.  With my eyes downcast I shook my head sideways and mumbled, "No." I honestly meant no because I understand God's teachings, but I felt unprepared to tell a Bible story in my own words. So Curtis asked others in our Zoom meeting to please write and share. No one took him up on it. 

Even a NO isn't final. First thing on Monday I sat down and read and read the passages from ICorinthians 12, 13 along with explanations in the New Oxford Annotated Bible. It began to open my heart. Paul the Apostle, shares with the people of the church in Corinth that the gifts of wisdom, knowledge, faith, healing, miracles, prophecy along with the speaking in tongues and the interpretation of tongues, come from the spirit, but are nothing without LOVE. 13:8.  LOVE never ends. LOVE is like the wind, it never subsides.  Without this LOVE that is patient and kind, like a mother’s love for her child, we have nothing.

 I knew the feeling of God's love, but...

The story might have ended there, except for two reasons. I rarely run from a challenge, but my heart and head made excuses. To my delight on Tuesday, December 22, my five year old companion, Ruth Anne, and I had the opportunity to tour the lovely home of the Christmas Tree Lady. While touring her home filled with colorful trees and walls of Christmas decorations, I realized that she opened the door to her heart by sharing her home and childhood stories about her mother. I knew that this LOVE is what Paul was relating to his followers in Corinth. 

The pictures will show the beauty of her trees, but the deep and abiding LOVE comes in every stitch her mother made in the delicate three hundred and fifty handmade decorations carefully stitched by hand with love in the tree shown above. Her walls were filled with hand made decorations, trees and tree skirts sewn with nearly invisible stitches. There were ornaments, trains, toys, and stockings.

In her husband's library she filled the spaces with trees decorated in his favorite themes of cars, airplanes, OU. Some of the small cars had tiny packages inside, all going to grandma's house.

Her kitchen displayed a cookie cutter tree, a gingerbread man who talked, and a cupcake tree. These were some of Ruth's favorite. 

Deloros’s tonality of sharing changed from a teacher’s voice of explanation and humor for the spectacular Hallmark glass ornaments, to a soft tone; a mother’s tone of caressing a child; a mother’s tone of kindness, a mother's tone of grace and love whenever she touched a handmade gift from her mother’s talented hands and heart. 

Her mother’s love we felt in every tiny Christmas ornament, in every colorful bead of her hand stitched ornaments. The Christmas stockings are hung by the chimney with care, but they were made with love. I could see the love radiating from Deloros as she walked us through her home.  Every space glowed with sparkling glass centerpieces, ten trees each decorated in a theme, and a fireplace beaming with stockings and trees.

Deloros’s connection with her hometown of Carthage, Missouri carries its roots deep into her heart. Her collection of Precious Moments figurines shows the love she cherishes in the artwork and vision of its creator, Sam Butcher. The creator, Sam Butcher, says that his fondest memories are of his grandmother telling him Bible stories, giving him a deep interest in spiritual things. Sam’s life changed one night in a country church, where he heard the good news of salvation, and asked Jesus to come into his heart. Since that night, he decided to only use his artistic talent for the Lord. Something tells me Deloros felt that love when she began collecting these precious figurines.

Ruth Anne's favorite scenes in Precious Moments were of the little dog, Sugar and her puppies. 

When God gave Deloros’s mother the gift of being a seamstress, he also gave her LOVE. LOVE that was passed on in every stitch she took for her daughter. Even touching the round green skirt showing the elaborate forms of the Twelve Days of Christmas, I could feel the love.  

I believe this is the spirit within which God works. We each have gifts and his unconditional love if we choose.  The spirit of LOVE which Paul hoped and prayed that his followers would understand.

 

For more information on Precious Moments click on this link:  Timmy's Tower

 

 

JOY TO THE WORLD

 

Dear Friends, 

Oh, what a JOY to come to the end of this year of COVID.  When the dramatic news of Covid hit the airways, I found myself with friends in La Quinta, Ca. playing golf. Driving to the airport on March 17, we felt the emptiness and fear while driving through Palm Springs. There was NO traffic; No people shopping, No one standing in line and No restaurants open. Even the life sized statue of Sonny Bono sat alone in the city park.. Suddenly, the masks appeared at the airport.

Now here we find ourselves in the same boat as the world. We are all floating down the same stream; a community of the world where we all face the same virus and dis-ease. Jack and I found JOY in the projects we completed in the first few months. Walking the dog became our lifeline.  JOY turned to sobs when our dog, Lucy died in September. Now we find our doggie fixes by walking our friends' dogs.

Golfing with friends in the fresh air has been our life boat. Rather than eat inside for our lunches on ladies day, we found a group of shade trees near the clubhouse where we could sit in our golf carts to chat or enjoy a lunch from the Trails menu. 

As if we hadn't spent enough time outside, Mother Nature saw fit to send an October ICE STORM. The next few weeks Jack and I practiced strength training in our yard, as we cut, carried, and stacked tree limbs, which six weeks later still decorate our yard.. There are blessings even in this mess. We are so thankful to our neighbors for helping, and to the broken brown limbs that have attracted more birds to our feeders. One evening a Great Horned Owl sat at the top of a broken tree and lifted our spirits with his grace. A few days later a Pinkish Dark-Eyed Junco appeared at the feeder. JOY indeed as we identified a bird we had never seen before. Like magic, the third stranger appeared to us; a Great Blue Heron adopted our neighborhood for a few days. What magnificence he shared as we watched his shadow fly over our heads, where he rested on roof tops. To think of what we would have missed if we hadn't been "home". 

 May each day bring Joy to your World. 

 

Sincerely,

Literally Letty Watt

Taking Center Stage: A True Story 1958

 

Tom and Virginia Lee Wilson’s Dance Recital memory

Miami Memories

 

View from the balcony (where the lovers used to meet).

        Before the floodlights and spotlights brush the stage, before the music begins and the plush burgundy curtains part, a world appearing in crisis is scurrying back stage, but the black and white photo of three future Rockettes shows childhood confidence and pride moments before the curtain call.  Three little girls are posing by the stage door, proudly grinning ear to ear in their colorful neon orange costumes, standing like Rockettes with an outside arm on the hip and the inside arm over shoulder, arm over shoulder, arm over shoulder and closed by an outside arm on the hip.

        Much of the excitement of that dance recital so many years ago is lost in the black and white shades of the Brownie Kodak camera photo (now lost on paper but not in my memory).   Our boots glistened pure white and silver tassels hung from the boot top.  Our white cowboy rolled hats were placed squarely on our heads with chins straps securely holding the hat in place.  Two blue eyed blondes adorned my sides while my shoulder length brunette hair hung to my shoulders.  No braces, no glasses, no earrings, no curves to our bodies, shapeless, yes, but lips flashed of Elizabeth Taylor red. Many of our mothers who never let us wear makeup allowed Virginia Lee and her mother to carefully line our lips and make us shine on stage.

        Our short dance dress costumes were sewn in the newest shiny neon material (never before seen on stage).  Mine a brilliant orange while my bookend friends are dressed in contrasting chartreuse green.  We could have passed for characters in Alice in Wonderland with those flashy colors.   The bodice of our costumes was fitted with darts and little puff sleeves.  I was mortified that I had darts, for I certainly didn’t own a bra, wear a bra, nor would I ever be caught dead in a bra.  Just the same I had darts up from the waist and arrowing across my flattened chest, but a giggle from some of us echoed that it was about womanhood.

        The twelve inch circular skirt was sewn to the bodice with a long zipper going up the back.  Unlike the surrey in the play Oklahoma our skirts had a fringe on the bottom.  Not just any fringe but silver glistening threads that sparkled in the flood lights.  When our dancing legs kicked in line our matching bloomers showed, and our conservative parents laughed.  The motivation to kick high came easily in our costumes.

        Now the Wilson Dance Recital was upon us.  A covey of nervous young girls huddled back stage awaiting the musical cue, but in the stilled silence of the dancers nervous breathing we could smell the stench of rotten fish emanating from a nearby unknown source.  Not a breath of air circulated back stage on that sultry June evening.  The sounds of “ Pee—ew” grew louder as the stench grew stronger the closer we all gathered.  Eyes scanned the area on the floor looking for the source of the sickening smell.  Mothering stage hands flew to our huddle to silence our fears, but nothing could silence the smell so strong that flowers could wilt and eyes could tear.   Suddenly, a whispered screamed and finger pointing explosion came my way.  “It’s you.  It’s you.  It’s on your back.” 

        “Smell it.  It’s on your back! Ugh, Letty.”

        “On my back,” I whispered in angry humiliated tones.  Nearly wrenching my neck peering backwards. I begged,  “Get it off whatever it is.”  All I could imagine was a dead stink bug stuck to my neon orange costume.

        No, the black and white photo does not show the oval tent shape of an iron left too long in place on the back of a costume from my mother's attempt to iron the wrinkles, nor the stench that arose from that never before used shiny neon material.  Nor does it show the disgust and moans of the dancers around a young girl when it was discovered that I was the source of the unusual odor only seconds before hearing our queue.  Before I could run and hide the music began.  My head snapped up and my heart dropped like a heavy bucket to my stomach.  The dance must go on. 

        Dancers pranced and giggled off stage and in seconds the three future Rockettes lined up proudly with hats squared.  Marching like well trained horses, one smelling of manure, we appeared on stage smiling ear to ear.  We strutted magnificently that night on stage at the Coleman Theater with tassels glistening making our parents proud.

        And yes, one little girl was made stronger that night by stepping onto center stage and kicking those tasseled boots high into the flood lights.

On stage about 1960. left to right young girls: ?, Lynette Rains Kemp, ? Nancy Owens, ? Letty Stapp Watt, Dottie Miller, Nancy Adams, Beverly Gaines. 

Letty Stapp Watt

I would love to hear your  memories or stories of the Coleman Theater or  in The Wilson Dance Recitals of the 1950's--1960's.  Please use the comment section below. 

*The original Coleman Theater was built by George Coleman and opened in April 1929. In my childhood the glory remained but had begun to fade. Now thanks to the Friends of the Coleman Theater it has been completely restored, and is the most magnificent theater that your mind can imagine.  Come travel Route 66 to Miami, Oklahoma and visit this stunning showcase. 

This photo of the replaced original carpet and shows the insignia of 
George L. Coleman Sr
Click on the link below for more information on the Coleman Theater
The Coleman Theatre