Honey

Honey

Several years ago, after my divorce, I started a small sewing and alterations business out of the house. I also taught sewing, in my house – with no more than 6-8 students at a time. My Saturday morning class was my favorite one. We’d make huge cat-head biscuits, saw mill gravy and sausage. We’d feast out, and sew. I think they even learned more than the rest of my classes did.

One of my student’s, became a very good friend, as did her husband. Willie Mae and Honey are like family to me. I’ve always said, “we are born into a family, but family is what you end up with in the end.”

I found my house on Park Street. Honey wasn’t too keen on the idea of me being in that neighborhood, because it was close to the River where he worked as a longshoreman, and he knew the elements there. Honey wasn’t one to tell a person what to do, but he had a way of talking to you and sharing scripture with you that would help you figure out what was right and what was wrong in what you were doing.

My days and nights for the first years living there were turbulent. Prostitution, drug dealings, shootings, it all took place. Honey once told me that he was wearing out his knee pads praying for me – because I was” just crazy enough not to take anything off of anyone. “

Honey also told me, “when you get older you pray the prayers you should’ve been praying all along.”

Honey passed a few years back. But the legacy in my life he left will never be forgotten. He was my “let’s go to Breaux Bridge and get cracklins” road buddy. He was my prayer warrior. He was my angel on earth. He always knew when I need him.

One day, while away from my office, he showed up with a fruit basket. My new secretary, Judy, had not a clue as to who he was. To her, he was a well dressed, nice black man. “May I tell her who this is from?” she asked. “Sure, her Honey.” He said with a big ol’ smile and turned and walked out. Now, Judy knew I was married. She had all sorts of thoughts conjuring in her mind until I got back.

“LinMarie, I don’t really like working for someone who is having an affair, I don’t think I want to get involved in that.” She shyly said.

“Ok that’s fine.” I said nonchalantly.

“Well these are from “your honey”

“OH wonderful did Willie Mae come with him?” You could see the real confusion until it was explained Honey was my angel.

Do you have a friend, who will stop what they are doing when you need to talk? Or one that prays for you even when you don’t think you need it? If you do, then you are truly blessed. If you don't I sure hope you find one!

I had such a friend in Honey. He would sit on the front porch of his house early in the morning reading his Bible. I would sometimes go over early just to hear the word and what he was going to teach me that day. Many times, Willie Mae may have already gone to work or still been sleeping. It was my time, with my friend – my praying friend – my angel on earth.

I miss him so much. There isn’t a day that goes by I don’t think of him. I miss sharing the sweet potato pie or the coconut cake – but most of all – I miss his singing and hearing him pray. Honey died praying. What an inspiration he was to all who knew him. And, on the days, when I need to think smart – I wear one of his hats that Willie Mae gave me. I’ve almost worn that hat out wearing it so much. It’s a material thing, but it’s something that keeps me ever so close tangibly to Honey.

I want to be a witness like he was for others. I want to be a helpful praying friend. I think that’s what we all are suppose to be. I want to be able to be a person that through the spirit can guide people when they need it or until their feet can get back on the ground. There’s always someone who has more difficulties than we do. Let’s not forget to be prayer warriors. Remember the Burl Ives song, “Central’s never busy, always on the line, I can talk to Heaven almost any time, tis a royal service built for one and all …..” Pass a good one!