James Randall Chumbley's Blog: Alabama Snow
February 25, 2018
Quote
“I know we all see many things differently or to varying degrees, but there has to be a rope of consciousness of what is authentically right and what is wrong that circles the world; there for any of us to grab a hold of — when we are of the mind knowing we must do what is right not only for our souls but for the good of all people.”
James Randall Chumbley
James Randall Chumbley
January 18, 2018
Alabama Snow
Recent Reader Reviews from Amazon.com on "Alabama Snow."
I'm so appreciative of those who have read my third book, "Alabama Snow." I hope by sharing my mother's story and a bit of what happened to me in early 2009, I have helped other people who deal with mental illness. I know from numerous emails, Facebook messages, and letters there are many people out there that struggle every day in silence and are afraid to let their family members and their closest friends know what they are dealing with due to the many stigmas associated with the disease. Those false stigmas prevent some people from even seeking help which can lead to a disastrous end.
5.0 out of 5 stars
Such revealing honesty and laying it all out for others to see is not an easy task. I am sure others can empathize with ...
ByR. Hortmanon January 12, 2018
Format: Kindle Edition
James Randall Chumbley's heart-wrenching portrayal of his mother and family dynamics is not for the faint of heart. Such revealing honesty and laying it all out for others to see is not an easy task. I am sure others can empathize with the dysfunction he brings forth and the lost desires we have for our departed family members. My soul resonated with the author as he closely mirrored images of my own family. This is a powerful book that can stir your own life. This book is evident of the great love that a son and his mother possess no matter the circumstances or what separates us in life or death.
5.0 out of 5
starsMental Illness is very real!
ByAmazon Customeron December 12, 2017
Format: Paperback|Verified Purchase
There are so many things I can say about this book but you have to read it to really appreciate the honesty and rawness that the author put into it. Anyone that is willing to bring a story like this out of the darkness gets 5 stars!!! This book is an eye-opener into the dark and painful world of mental illness, alcoholism and much more. I applaud James for his courage. He tells his story with no apology as he should. Mental illness alone is still so taboo in our society and it should not be. Almost everyone I know has or knows someone that has had or is currently dealing with some type of mental illness. It is very real and education is the first step in bringing this out of the closet so to speak. Again, a book that MUST be read.
I'm so appreciative of those who have read my third book, "Alabama Snow." I hope by sharing my mother's story and a bit of what happened to me in early 2009, I have helped other people who deal with mental illness. I know from numerous emails, Facebook messages, and letters there are many people out there that struggle every day in silence and are afraid to let their family members and their closest friends know what they are dealing with due to the many stigmas associated with the disease. Those false stigmas prevent some people from even seeking help which can lead to a disastrous end.
5.0 out of 5 stars
Such revealing honesty and laying it all out for others to see is not an easy task. I am sure others can empathize with ...
ByR. Hortmanon January 12, 2018
Format: Kindle Edition
James Randall Chumbley's heart-wrenching portrayal of his mother and family dynamics is not for the faint of heart. Such revealing honesty and laying it all out for others to see is not an easy task. I am sure others can empathize with the dysfunction he brings forth and the lost desires we have for our departed family members. My soul resonated with the author as he closely mirrored images of my own family. This is a powerful book that can stir your own life. This book is evident of the great love that a son and his mother possess no matter the circumstances or what separates us in life or death.
5.0 out of 5
starsMental Illness is very real!
ByAmazon Customeron December 12, 2017
Format: Paperback|Verified Purchase
There are so many things I can say about this book but you have to read it to really appreciate the honesty and rawness that the author put into it. Anyone that is willing to bring a story like this out of the darkness gets 5 stars!!! This book is an eye-opener into the dark and painful world of mental illness, alcoholism and much more. I applaud James for his courage. He tells his story with no apology as he should. Mental illness alone is still so taboo in our society and it should not be. Almost everyone I know has or knows someone that has had or is currently dealing with some type of mental illness. It is very real and education is the first step in bringing this out of the closet so to speak. Again, a book that MUST be read.
August 31, 2017
Footprints in the Snow
James-Randall Chumbley
Why do the birds fly so high
How is it that the waves never cease to wash the shore
I dreamed of you last night
Why
We once lay side by side
That was so long ago
I was young
You were so strong
So many things we planned
I never feared the dark until you left
The snow fell so gently that day
And all through the night
So quiet and white
All seemed to be okay
But, I guess not
You left
I stayed
But your footprints remained
Three days
In the snow
I saw them through the window
On the fourth day – they were gone
The sun melted them, as if they were never there
I did not miss you until then
Until
Until your footprints were gone
Now, another morning looms
The night has almost gone
I can breathe a sigh of relief
One tear rolls down my cheek to the corner of my mouth
Just one
I seldom cry anymore
No point
Spring will be here soon
Perhaps I will spend it by the sea
The birds will come again
Everything will be fresh
It is life’s way – to start anew
But I still wonder
Where you have gone
Why do the birds fly so high
How is it that the waves never cease to wash the shore
I dreamed of you last night
Why
We once lay side by side
That was so long ago
I was young
You were so strong
So many things we planned
I never feared the dark until you left
The snow fell so gently that day
And all through the night
So quiet and white
All seemed to be okay
But, I guess not
You left
I stayed
But your footprints remained
Three days
In the snow
I saw them through the window
On the fourth day – they were gone
The sun melted them, as if they were never there
I did not miss you until then
Until
Until your footprints were gone
Now, another morning looms
The night has almost gone
I can breathe a sigh of relief
One tear rolls down my cheek to the corner of my mouth
Just one
I seldom cry anymore
No point
Spring will be here soon
Perhaps I will spend it by the sea
The birds will come again
Everything will be fresh
It is life’s way – to start anew
But I still wonder
Where you have gone
August 26, 2017
“Sometimes it takes Great Courage just to Breathe and Nothing Else.”
I’ve done a lot of emotional healing over the past eight years. In the process, I barely made it to this point alive and breathing. The important thing is: that I’m still breathing. There have been several different psychiatrist and therapist over that span of years, as there have been medications. Some of those Mental Health Professionals have been worth their weight in gold, while others have no business trying to help anyone get through or around a trauma. I’ve always asked each one of them two questions before I was willing to share any part of what’s harboring in my soul.
1.) Have you ever suffered from depression or any other mental health issue?
2.) Have you ever thought about and/or tried to take your life?
A few told me they didn’t wish to share that with me, while others had. Needless to state, the few that wouldn’t answer my two questions — didn’t get the gig. Why did I want to know? Because, regardless of the diplomas hanging on their walls I knew if they were fortunate enough not to have had to face a mental health crisis, then no matter how many years they spent on getting those diplomas and how many case studies they had read and patients they counseled, they would never truly know what living in darkness was like and I had to be sure they understood that — that they didn’t personally know, but it didn’t mean I didn’t think they couldn’t help me. In fact, two Mental Health Professionals that had never known such darkness helped me greatly understand a lot about myself.
Over those years, I’ve shared some of it on Social Media as I have in my first and third books. There are those who have questioned why I would be so open and thought it was TMI (Too Much Information) and I’ve shared too much. But, that’s okay. Those that have thought as much can think that but I know in sharing, I’ve helped other people and that was the point. Being so open was never for wanting any one to feel sorry for me or for attention — it was to be a voice, especially for my mother whose voice, as her dreams, were silenced and destroyed by my father’s reign of terror. It’s because of what I witness her endure, and my own pain that I wanted to save the world. Of course, then my world was very small and it was my mother. That little boy’s desire to save the world has been wedged in my heart to this day.
When my fourth book “Under My Beautiful Flesh” finally makes it to print, it will be the last one I write that has anything to do with the four darkest years of my life beginning in January of 2009 or the dysfunction of my family or the violence and abuse I managed to live through as a child and how all of it has shadowed me and is one huge knot in my gut. With that stated, I know nothing that has happened to me hasn’t happened to other people — but again, it was to be a voice in the crowd.
If I’m on the earth long enough, I’m actually going back to a book project I started before I wrote my third book “Alabama Snow.” Ironically, it’s a love story spanning twenty-something years between two men. The irony is that I’m not by any means an authority on love but it’s a fiction write, so I figure I will just make it up as I go. There will be no details or truths to stick to, just fiction on what I think love is like for two people. “Under My Beautiful Flesh” however, will shock some people to the point they may see me in a different light — certainly one of varying intensities of how they may have once thought of me as a person to the degree their opinion of me will most likely be different when and if they make it to the last page.
I started writing so openly because I got to a point in my life — in my early thirties — that I couldn’t keep up the façade of a golden boy with a good childhood in my rear view mirror anymore and I couldn’t keep all the ugliness pushed deep down inside of me. It was coming up and out one way or another like a hardy dinner after a drinking binge of mixing wine, beer, and Diet Coke. Don’t do it — the mixture that is. Just trust me on this one. It’s not pretty.
All the pain and trauma from that childhood had begun eating me alive from the inside out. I started writing in hopes of getting all of it out of me. It became my first book, “In the Arms of Adam: a diary of men.” I never planned on that diary filled with anguish and sex and blood ever becoming a book. It was because of the encouragement of a dear friend, Susan — with whom I shared my writing. She told me, after getting over the shock I’d kept so many bad experiences secret, to keep writing because she believed by doing so it would help some people. It was also because of another friend, Charlie, who before he died from complications of AIDS, told me to let more people know the real Randy Chumbley. In fact, Charlie is the glue that holds my first book together. I no longer go by Randy anymore because of one of the things I learned about myself in therapy: Randy is that scared little boy who never got a chance to grow up but James-Randall is grown up or almost, and again he’s still breathing. I’m still figuring out if I want or need a hyphen between James and Randall.
During those four darkest years, friends had tried to counsel me, and in the process ended up saying the wrong things for the right reasons. The right reasons are they wanted me to get better and to find myself again. But, telling someone things like: get over it, buck up, don’t be so weak, find your courage, and move on are not. We are all affected by trauma in different ways that are unique to us as we process things and there is not a timeframe for the healing of those wounds — we mend differently as well and in our own time. Then there is the — “I know how you feel, but ...” No, they don’t know how someone feels until that someone’s heart is beating in their chest — then and only then will they, doctor or friend or family member truly and completely know that someone’s soul and what that someone has gotten over and left behind, and what stays with them and why. We all share analogous heartaches, but regardless of how similar they may be — they are idiosyncratic to each of us and they belong to no one else.”
The one valuable thing I have learned through the long process of finding myself again is: Sometimes it takes great courage just to breathe and nothing else. It’s okay to just breathe for a time until you can find it in yourself to get to a better place — a healthier place.
1.) Have you ever suffered from depression or any other mental health issue?
2.) Have you ever thought about and/or tried to take your life?
A few told me they didn’t wish to share that with me, while others had. Needless to state, the few that wouldn’t answer my two questions — didn’t get the gig. Why did I want to know? Because, regardless of the diplomas hanging on their walls I knew if they were fortunate enough not to have had to face a mental health crisis, then no matter how many years they spent on getting those diplomas and how many case studies they had read and patients they counseled, they would never truly know what living in darkness was like and I had to be sure they understood that — that they didn’t personally know, but it didn’t mean I didn’t think they couldn’t help me. In fact, two Mental Health Professionals that had never known such darkness helped me greatly understand a lot about myself.
Over those years, I’ve shared some of it on Social Media as I have in my first and third books. There are those who have questioned why I would be so open and thought it was TMI (Too Much Information) and I’ve shared too much. But, that’s okay. Those that have thought as much can think that but I know in sharing, I’ve helped other people and that was the point. Being so open was never for wanting any one to feel sorry for me or for attention — it was to be a voice, especially for my mother whose voice, as her dreams, were silenced and destroyed by my father’s reign of terror. It’s because of what I witness her endure, and my own pain that I wanted to save the world. Of course, then my world was very small and it was my mother. That little boy’s desire to save the world has been wedged in my heart to this day.
When my fourth book “Under My Beautiful Flesh” finally makes it to print, it will be the last one I write that has anything to do with the four darkest years of my life beginning in January of 2009 or the dysfunction of my family or the violence and abuse I managed to live through as a child and how all of it has shadowed me and is one huge knot in my gut. With that stated, I know nothing that has happened to me hasn’t happened to other people — but again, it was to be a voice in the crowd.
If I’m on the earth long enough, I’m actually going back to a book project I started before I wrote my third book “Alabama Snow.” Ironically, it’s a love story spanning twenty-something years between two men. The irony is that I’m not by any means an authority on love but it’s a fiction write, so I figure I will just make it up as I go. There will be no details or truths to stick to, just fiction on what I think love is like for two people. “Under My Beautiful Flesh” however, will shock some people to the point they may see me in a different light — certainly one of varying intensities of how they may have once thought of me as a person to the degree their opinion of me will most likely be different when and if they make it to the last page.
I started writing so openly because I got to a point in my life — in my early thirties — that I couldn’t keep up the façade of a golden boy with a good childhood in my rear view mirror anymore and I couldn’t keep all the ugliness pushed deep down inside of me. It was coming up and out one way or another like a hardy dinner after a drinking binge of mixing wine, beer, and Diet Coke. Don’t do it — the mixture that is. Just trust me on this one. It’s not pretty.
All the pain and trauma from that childhood had begun eating me alive from the inside out. I started writing in hopes of getting all of it out of me. It became my first book, “In the Arms of Adam: a diary of men.” I never planned on that diary filled with anguish and sex and blood ever becoming a book. It was because of the encouragement of a dear friend, Susan — with whom I shared my writing. She told me, after getting over the shock I’d kept so many bad experiences secret, to keep writing because she believed by doing so it would help some people. It was also because of another friend, Charlie, who before he died from complications of AIDS, told me to let more people know the real Randy Chumbley. In fact, Charlie is the glue that holds my first book together. I no longer go by Randy anymore because of one of the things I learned about myself in therapy: Randy is that scared little boy who never got a chance to grow up but James-Randall is grown up or almost, and again he’s still breathing. I’m still figuring out if I want or need a hyphen between James and Randall.
During those four darkest years, friends had tried to counsel me, and in the process ended up saying the wrong things for the right reasons. The right reasons are they wanted me to get better and to find myself again. But, telling someone things like: get over it, buck up, don’t be so weak, find your courage, and move on are not. We are all affected by trauma in different ways that are unique to us as we process things and there is not a timeframe for the healing of those wounds — we mend differently as well and in our own time. Then there is the — “I know how you feel, but ...” No, they don’t know how someone feels until that someone’s heart is beating in their chest — then and only then will they, doctor or friend or family member truly and completely know that someone’s soul and what that someone has gotten over and left behind, and what stays with them and why. We all share analogous heartaches, but regardless of how similar they may be — they are idiosyncratic to each of us and they belong to no one else.”
The one valuable thing I have learned through the long process of finding myself again is: Sometimes it takes great courage just to breathe and nothing else. It’s okay to just breathe for a time until you can find it in yourself to get to a better place — a healthier place.
June 7, 2017
Reader Review / Alabama Snow
5.0 out of 5 stars a beautiful young woman with a delicate smile
ByCalifornia Dreamin'on June 6, 2017
Format: Paperback|Verified Purchase
With Alabama Snow, author James-Randall Chumbley has written a very powerful book, one that tells the story of Mary Ellen Rushing, a beautiful young woman with a delicate smile, growing up poor on a cotton farm in rural Alabama. She holds fast to childhood’s innocent dream of promises yet to come, of someday escaping her life of rural poverty, of attending college and perhaps becoming a singer. Instead, an early marriage to a handsome Army soldier leads to a life of suffering, tormented by extreme physical abuse, alcoholism and a heart-wrenching, lifelong struggle with mental illness. That beautiful young woman with a delicate smile, Mary Ellen Rushing, is the author’s mother.
Alabama Snow is a riveting and honestly brutal testament of dreams, hope, strength, courage and personal pain. James-Randall Chumbley’s writing style is realistic and clear when the trauma of life-changing events occurs and when buried family secrets are revealed, including those tragic events in Mary Ellen’s life that led to her being institutionalized and enduring electroshock treatment and drug therapy. There are strong, vividly clear scenes in the book where emotions will catch in your throat because of the impending premonition of what is about to happen, or where words on the pages become blurry because of welled-up tears.
Alabama Snow illustrates how the pain of emotional and physical trauma can impact not only an individual but also the extended family, as in James-Randall’s own emotional journey in retelling his past. James-Randall Chumbley is a man with an amazing heart; Alabama Snow is his gift of hope to his readers of the book as well as to those individuals and families who have been affected by mental illness. I highly recommend it.
ByCalifornia Dreamin'on June 6, 2017
Format: Paperback|Verified Purchase
With Alabama Snow, author James-Randall Chumbley has written a very powerful book, one that tells the story of Mary Ellen Rushing, a beautiful young woman with a delicate smile, growing up poor on a cotton farm in rural Alabama. She holds fast to childhood’s innocent dream of promises yet to come, of someday escaping her life of rural poverty, of attending college and perhaps becoming a singer. Instead, an early marriage to a handsome Army soldier leads to a life of suffering, tormented by extreme physical abuse, alcoholism and a heart-wrenching, lifelong struggle with mental illness. That beautiful young woman with a delicate smile, Mary Ellen Rushing, is the author’s mother.
Alabama Snow is a riveting and honestly brutal testament of dreams, hope, strength, courage and personal pain. James-Randall Chumbley’s writing style is realistic and clear when the trauma of life-changing events occurs and when buried family secrets are revealed, including those tragic events in Mary Ellen’s life that led to her being institutionalized and enduring electroshock treatment and drug therapy. There are strong, vividly clear scenes in the book where emotions will catch in your throat because of the impending premonition of what is about to happen, or where words on the pages become blurry because of welled-up tears.
Alabama Snow illustrates how the pain of emotional and physical trauma can impact not only an individual but also the extended family, as in James-Randall’s own emotional journey in retelling his past. James-Randall Chumbley is a man with an amazing heart; Alabama Snow is his gift of hope to his readers of the book as well as to those individuals and families who have been affected by mental illness. I highly recommend it.
March 21, 2016
The Mary Ellen Rushing Chumbley Scholarship Foundation
Hello Everyone!
I'm starting a scholarship foundation in my mother's name: The Mary Ellen Rushing Chumbley Scholarship Foundation. It is to help students in the state of Alabama with college expenses that are studying in the field of Mental Health. All my royalities from the sale of new copies of Alabama Snow go to the foundation. The book is available at amazon.com and barnesandnoble.com and also in ebook. Thank you so much for your support!
James Chumbley.
I'm starting a scholarship foundation in my mother's name: The Mary Ellen Rushing Chumbley Scholarship Foundation. It is to help students in the state of Alabama with college expenses that are studying in the field of Mental Health. All my royalities from the sale of new copies of Alabama Snow go to the foundation. The book is available at amazon.com and barnesandnoble.com and also in ebook. Thank you so much for your support!
James Chumbley.
November 11, 2015
Alabama Snow / Review
5.0 out of 5 stars
ALL PRAISE
ByAmazon Customeron October 27, 2015
Format: PaperbackVerified Purchase
All praise to the book Alabama Snow by Author James Randall Chumbley. It kept my attention for a long time. It was a deeply moving emotional story about James Randall Chumbley's family growing up. I would highly recommend it to my friends.
Love Miss Marsha Clogston
Montgomery AL
5.0 out of 5 stars
Alabama Snow a very good Book!
ByTerion October 23, 2015
Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase
Alabama Snow is a very good read about a family's struggles and tragedies. It brought tears to my eyes several times. This was written from the heart by a boy who loved his mother and she her children. She did the best she could under her circumstances as a lot of our mothers did. Anyone who has dealt with mental or emotional illness in themselves or family members can relate to the pain he writes about in this book. One person's struggles can impact so many others.
James goes back to his mother's childhood and uncovers family secrets that impacted her life as well as the next generations. I hope in writing about this he has found some peace with his past. I am sure his Mother would be so proud of him and his accomplishments.
I will be reading James Randall Chumbley's other books soon. and recommending this one to my friends.
5.0 out of 5 stars
Honest, raw, and impactful!!
Bywallison April 27, 2015
Format: PaperbackVerified Purchase
This may be the most impactful book I have ever read. I could not put this book down until I finished reading it, and then I read it again. My head and heart are still spinning! The author reveals a riveting, honest, and raw story of his family, focusing on his mother and her lifelong struggle with mental illness. The relationships in the family are complex and the bond and love between mother and son remain well after her death. It provides tremendous insight into the workings of the mind and relationships, while bringing up even more questions. This book needs to be read!!
ALL PRAISE
ByAmazon Customeron October 27, 2015
Format: PaperbackVerified Purchase
All praise to the book Alabama Snow by Author James Randall Chumbley. It kept my attention for a long time. It was a deeply moving emotional story about James Randall Chumbley's family growing up. I would highly recommend it to my friends.
Love Miss Marsha Clogston
Montgomery AL
5.0 out of 5 stars
Alabama Snow a very good Book!
ByTerion October 23, 2015
Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase
Alabama Snow is a very good read about a family's struggles and tragedies. It brought tears to my eyes several times. This was written from the heart by a boy who loved his mother and she her children. She did the best she could under her circumstances as a lot of our mothers did. Anyone who has dealt with mental or emotional illness in themselves or family members can relate to the pain he writes about in this book. One person's struggles can impact so many others.
James goes back to his mother's childhood and uncovers family secrets that impacted her life as well as the next generations. I hope in writing about this he has found some peace with his past. I am sure his Mother would be so proud of him and his accomplishments.
I will be reading James Randall Chumbley's other books soon. and recommending this one to my friends.
5.0 out of 5 stars
Honest, raw, and impactful!!
Bywallison April 27, 2015
Format: PaperbackVerified Purchase
This may be the most impactful book I have ever read. I could not put this book down until I finished reading it, and then I read it again. My head and heart are still spinning! The author reveals a riveting, honest, and raw story of his family, focusing on his mother and her lifelong struggle with mental illness. The relationships in the family are complex and the bond and love between mother and son remain well after her death. It provides tremendous insight into the workings of the mind and relationships, while bringing up even more questions. This book needs to be read!!
May 31, 2015
Winter's Flesh
Winter's Flesh
James Randall Chumbley
(Release date to be set.)
“We are all born mad. Some remain so.”
Samuel Beckett
From the chapter: Unlikely Roommates
Time stood still, seemingly incapable of moving forward. Motionless. Torpid. Stagnate. One day was no different or unique as the one before or the one after. I felt frozen in time. Paralyzed. I’d stepped over into a parallel world or some warped dimension on another planet other than Earth that had been running alongside the life I’d been living since childhood—my mother’s world. Now her insanity was mine, and as she had been time and time again, I was locked up with strangers. “Crazy people” that the majority of the world looked down upon, made fun of, ran in the other direction of, and feared because of the stigmas associated with mental illness. Still, at times, I believed I was either insane or I was no longer human suspended in a place somewhere between heaven and hell waiting for the powers-that-be to decide my eternal fate in some afterlife. I would either go to heaven and be comforted by God or burn in the realm of hell as the devil took my soul and lit afire my flesh as hideously repugnant malformed demons—soulless creatures picked and ate at it or I was left to remain exiled in an ominous place in limbo, powerless of finding the peace I so urgently coveted, and I would be left perpetually—with no end—floating in a pool of misery abandoned to recount every event of my past life as I wondered what lie beneath the perilous blackest of black water to pay for my sin—the mortal sin of taking one's life.
Author's Note
Every one who purchases one of my books allows me to continue to write. And if you purchase, "Alabama Snow" you allow me to complete my dream of setting up the Mary Ellen Rushing Scholars Fund to help students with their college expenses who are studying to pursue a career in the field of mental illness.
James Randall Chumbley
(Release date to be set.)
“We are all born mad. Some remain so.”
Samuel Beckett
From the chapter: Unlikely Roommates
Time stood still, seemingly incapable of moving forward. Motionless. Torpid. Stagnate. One day was no different or unique as the one before or the one after. I felt frozen in time. Paralyzed. I’d stepped over into a parallel world or some warped dimension on another planet other than Earth that had been running alongside the life I’d been living since childhood—my mother’s world. Now her insanity was mine, and as she had been time and time again, I was locked up with strangers. “Crazy people” that the majority of the world looked down upon, made fun of, ran in the other direction of, and feared because of the stigmas associated with mental illness. Still, at times, I believed I was either insane or I was no longer human suspended in a place somewhere between heaven and hell waiting for the powers-that-be to decide my eternal fate in some afterlife. I would either go to heaven and be comforted by God or burn in the realm of hell as the devil took my soul and lit afire my flesh as hideously repugnant malformed demons—soulless creatures picked and ate at it or I was left to remain exiled in an ominous place in limbo, powerless of finding the peace I so urgently coveted, and I would be left perpetually—with no end—floating in a pool of misery abandoned to recount every event of my past life as I wondered what lie beneath the perilous blackest of black water to pay for my sin—the mortal sin of taking one's life.
Author's Note
Every one who purchases one of my books allows me to continue to write. And if you purchase, "Alabama Snow" you allow me to complete my dream of setting up the Mary Ellen Rushing Scholars Fund to help students with their college expenses who are studying to pursue a career in the field of mental illness.
May 10, 2015
Remembering my Mother on this Mother's Day
Mary Ellen Rushing Chumbley
Remembering my mother on this Mother's Day. For all that you endured and your abiding love for your children … and the hope you always carried in your heart. No matter how thin the string of hope got that wrapped around your heart, it never broke.
---------------------------------------------
Hope
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Emily Dickinson
---------------------------------------------
I am sure I will venture back to Rushing Road from time to time and walk it with her beside me.
I will remember the hopes and dreams that were seeded among the white felds of cotton, and remember the life she gave up for me. From this day forward I will spend my time fufulling my own dreams in honor of the ones she had lost.
And by doing so, I know I am fulfilling one of her dreams--my happiness.
"I'm okay, if you're okay."
Rest in eternal peace, my dear mother.
I know everything good I do comes from you and from your struggles in the white fields of cotton--Alabama Snow.
Your loving son.
Remembering my mother on this Mother's Day. For all that you endured and your abiding love for your children … and the hope you always carried in your heart. No matter how thin the string of hope got that wrapped around your heart, it never broke.
---------------------------------------------
Hope
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Emily Dickinson
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I am sure I will venture back to Rushing Road from time to time and walk it with her beside me.
I will remember the hopes and dreams that were seeded among the white felds of cotton, and remember the life she gave up for me. From this day forward I will spend my time fufulling my own dreams in honor of the ones she had lost.
And by doing so, I know I am fulfilling one of her dreams--my happiness.
"I'm okay, if you're okay."
Rest in eternal peace, my dear mother.
I know everything good I do comes from you and from your struggles in the white fields of cotton--Alabama Snow.
Your loving son.
Alabama Snow
This is a picture of my mother and I taken in Fayette, AL. I'm always amazed by her beauty so apparent in her pictures. I remember her grace; how she held on to hope all her life. She was a contradict
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