Harriet Edmond, A True Titus 2 Woman

When I first met Harriet Edmond, I was struck by her poise, beauty, royal stature and regal carriage.  As I got to know her I quickly learned that behind that warm, beautiful smile was an equally warm, beautiful spirit and a soul totally dedicated and committed to The Lord. Cousin Harriet, as I called her, possessed a quality that would make any younger woman (and probably many of her own peers) say; “I want to be like her”.  I always found something about Cousin Harriet’s presence that commanded respect and order, and there was never a time that I was with her that I didn’t come away better. Her way with me was quiet, caring and insightful.  I clearly remember a Saturday evening in March 2003 when she took me by my hand and said to me; “I can’t wait to come to your wedding.”  I chuckled then because I had no prospects, and for the record, I’m still not married. But when I was contemplating marriage a few years ago, the names of Nathan and Harriet Edmond were among the first on my list of honored guests. Cousin Harriet’s name is also on a list of women I’d planned to interview for a book I’m writing about mentorship and the Titus 2 Woman. Cousin Harriet embodied that Titus 2 model.  On the rare, but treasured occasions that I was able to spend time with her, watching her life was an excellent example of what it means to be a true Woman of God. There was no pretense with Cousin Harriet. She was who she was; and who she was has always been a perfect lady and a strong, admirable woman.  Though we didn’t talk to or see each other often, I loved Cousin Harriet dearly and felt loved by her. 

Cousin Nathan, Nathan, Jr., Erica and the rest of the family; as difficult as this must be, and I won’t pretend to know how you feel; please find some comfort in knowing that you were loved and cherished by one of the most wonderful women on this earth. And rest assured her legacy will live on. It will live on in you, her family, because of the richness with which she has left you. And it will live on in me, because her passing has made me even more determined to be the kind of woman she was.  The kind of woman whose love for and commitment to Christ was evident to everyone fortunate enough to come in contact with her. The kind of woman who left an indelible impression on the lives of everyone with whom she spoke. The kind of woman who left an unforgettable deposit in the life of anyone over whom she spoke a word. The kind of woman who lived the life she preached. The kind of woman who lived for God and is now able to spend Eternity with Him.  Being that kind of woman, the kind of woman Harriet Yvonne Abbey Edmond was, is the best way I can think of to honor her life, her memory and her legacy.  I love you, my extended and far away family.  And Cousin Harriet, I love you and am blessed to have been loved by you. Somewhere down the road, I’ll see you in Eternity where there will be no goodbyes.

Giving Thanks

I'll be heading South later today. I'm going to celebrate Thanksgiving with my mother's side of the family. Good times; we always have good times. Can't wait to pull my little cousin Nick aside for a one on one chat. That boy (21, over 6 feet tall, plays college football) has a lot going on and his big cousin needs to hear where his head is. It's been about 18 months since we've had the chance to do that.

When I get back I have a lot to tackle...HEAD ON! Gotta break through that roadblock I mentioned in my last post. That's a MAJOR undertaking, but I have no coice but to be up for the challenge.

Pray for me!

Too Much of a Good Thing

Here's Gus trying to scale the back of the couch and make a quick getaway. I guess she was tired of the gifts, the sugar cookies (yes, we let the baby eat a cookie) and the pictures. Of course, the monkey pajamas were a gift from me. Is it obvious why I thought monkeys were appropriate?

I'm outta here, folks!

- Gus McMonkey, Escape Artist

Gus's First Christmas

Here are some pictures from my neice's first Christmas. This girl loves to be photographed; and it's a good thing, because her Auntie loves to take pictures.

And no, her name is not really Gus. It's a shortened version of her previous nickname "The Wuggus". Gus just stuck and believe it or not, it suits her perfectly.

No, she is not blowing kisses. She's doing her Native American battle cry.

Posing for her public.



I promise, she only had the tissue paper in her mouth for a second.

Now, if only I could get her 14 year old brother to be as cooperative when I try to take his picture. Actually, I'd be satisfied if he'd return a phone call. Alas, I remember being a teenager and I'm sure most days I bore him to tears. Fortunately, the baby is only 11 months old and still finds me entertaining and interesting.

My Boy on the Tractor

Okay, this picture is old...months old. It was taken the first week of March when we had a lot of snow in Southern Maryland. I still think it's a great picture. This is my then 13-year-old (he turned 14 in June) nephew on my Dad's tractor. He drove it over from my Dad's house to push my driveway. I always say "plow", but since it's really not a plow, he informed me that he's "pushing" the snow! I took this standing in the back door of my house while I was watching him. My Mother wants me to print her a large black and white copy to have framed. She wants to display it with a coal drawing she had done of the house in which she grew up.

The Pretty Baby in Her Tiny Hat

This is not a deep post, nor is it a witty one. Just two pictures of my beautiful, chunky butt niece in her tiny, tiny hat. The hat is obviously too small. It was on the arm of a chair at their house and I wondered why it hadn’t been given away. So, I put it on her so we adults could laugh (we’re terrible, I know). Anyway, I thought it made for a couple of cute pictures.

My Incredible Grandmother

I went to hang out with my grandmother last night. I don’t say visit because I don’t visit her. Her house is my second home and I’m in and out of there just as freely as I am my own house; with keys and all. Anyway, I’d called to make sure she was going to be home. She was very happy to let me know she had left over chicken she’d made for my Father, Stepmother, Aunt and Uncle on Sunday night. She likes to cook, but only for people. She hates to cook just for herself because she doesn’t like leftovers.

So, I got to her house around 5:30 to find my Grandmother (Nana) coming up her basement stairs wearing Reeboks, some blue crop pants and a Rod Stewart t-shirt. That’s right; my 87 (88 at the end of this month) year old, black, Catholic grandmother is a rock n’ roll fan. We hugged and talked for a few minutes and then I heated up my food. She’d already eaten dinner, so she had ice cream and talked to me while I ate. When I was finished, she went outside to finish the gardening and washing of porch furniture she’d been doing earlier in the day before it got too hot out. I asked if she needed my help and she said no. She probably rolled her eyes, but she was in another room, so I couldn’t see to know for sure. She and my Mother both think I’m a “poor excuse for a country girl” because I’m not an outdoor person. I don’t know how to properly rake leaves; I’ve never cut grass…NEVER. I hate bugs and I’m very allergic to mosquitoes. I’m terrified of granddaddy longlegs; I think they’re the spawn of satan for sure. I’m allergic to pollen and I HATE to get dirty. That’s beside the point…but I know she rolled her eyes; Nana’s spunky like that!

After I washed the dishes, I grudgingly went outside and stood on the porch while she watered her flowers. When she was finished with that, she started telling me about these new trash bags she’d purchased and how she hoped they were big enough for her outside trash cans. Did I forget to mention that she bought the trash bags when she drove to Wal-Mart earlier yesterday? Yeah, she still drives. She bought herself a new car when she turned 80 and she keeps it in the garage which is detached and across the yard from her house. She does not like to leave that car out overnight. I offered to put the bag in the outside trash can (I’m not a total outdoor loser), but she again refused.

I did follow her outside again and joined her in sitting on the porch when she said she was finished for the day. We talked about the cherry and black walnut trees in her yard and how the birds and squirrels rob them of their bounty before she ever has a chance to pick anything. We watched a few blue jays and cardinals eat the cherries and laughed over my father’s joke that Nana is prejudiced because she hates for the huge black birds to eat from her bird feeders. So she said she wouldn’t complain about them anymore because she doesn’t want to discriminate. We talked about the varicose veins I’ve recently discovered on my leg. She says they don’t look like varicose veins to her because hers are a lot bigger. I pointed out that mine may be bigger than it seems, but is probably not totally visible because I’m a good bit darker than she is. Her response? “Oh yeah, maybe so”.

When I swatted a few bugs and announced that I’d had enough of the good outdoors, she decided to go in as well. We talked for a few more minutes and I said I’d better get home and get on the treadmill. She said she was going to take a shower and reminded me to let her know when I wanted to cook the turkey I’d left in her freezer. She said she’d take it out and let it thaw in her refrigerator two days before I’m ready for it. I told her it wouldn’t be before the weekend, kissed her, locked her doors and left. On my way to my car I couldn’t stop thinking about how this time last year Nana was recovering from her first heart attack and using a walker to get around. She had a second heart attack in August and underwent quadruple bypass in late September. Other than her heart problem, there were no issues with her health. Granted the heart problem was a big one; but it was correctable and she’s back to her usual “piddling”, as she calls it. I call it incredible!