Mundane Musings

I am part of a group of friends that email each other news of the mundane on a regular basis. There is nothing like an old friend who is genuinely interested in the tiny details of  your daily life. If you are looking for a coherent and well-constructed post, move along. Nothing for you here today.

Yesterday, I missed my daily trip to the gym because I had some pressing Garage Sales to attend to. I could do an entire blog series on the Science of Garage Sales. You know, the Type A Sellers who put their worn out things on the driveway and want the original price that they paid for them. The Type B Sellers who just want to get rid of things and will all but deliver them to your home. And the Fellow Buyers! Some are pushy and rude. Some are gracious and unhurried. And some suddenly forget English and offer fifty cents for something clearly marked (and worth) ten dollars. My favorite  legendary G.S. scene played out between this kind of a buyer and a seller who was displaying designer clothes. When seller was offered pennies for a dress that had set her back a weekly paycheck, she dramatically clutched the dress to her chest and declared (loudly), "This dress will become my death shroud before I will sell it to you for that!" That story has become legend in my family.

So, continuing on in  this stream-of-consciousness thinking I seem to possess in the Texas heat, I needed some exercise to make up for the lack of it that morning. Walking outside was not an option because the temperature at the neighborhood Walgreen's marquee declared 117 degrees. I know that some of the temperature was spiked by  asphalt and highway intersections, but still! I needed a cooler place to walk.

Enter my neighborhood IKEA. I could walk mindlessly in the air conditioned maze while admiring all things Swedish. D said he felt comfortable with me being out for about 2 hours. Didn't take quite that long, but egads! IKEA is a big place! I was entertained during my walk by a continual announcement of "E.M. meet your family at the check-out". I know a man by this name and couldn't wait to find out if it was his family tapping their feet at said check-out. I used to charge my son a dollar when I had to have him paged in Target and Walmart oh-those-many-years-ago when his hearing stopped working in the video game departments. I digress. Again.

I returned home to find D watching The Travel Channel. Specifically: Man vs. Food. Have you seen that show? This guy goes to restaurants with extreme (read that large or hot) offerings and attempts to eat them. We watched one episode about Eagle's Restaurant in Boston that offers a burger with five pounds of beef, 20 slices of cheese, 20 slices of bacon and five pounds of fries for $50.  Man challenged a former worker of this restaurant to an eat-off of this Challenge Burger. They had one hour to eat as much of the food as possible. The winner was determined when they weighed what food was left. They both ate over seven pounds of food. (I kept waiting for one of them to do self-CPR on his own chest to keep the blood pumping through a clogged heart.) Man lost by ounces. But, he was able to continue on to a New York Deli in the next episode.

At this deli, we were treated to the sight of Reuben sandwiches that weighed one pound each. Makes you swallow kind of hard, doesn't it? D loves those sandwiches, but is such a careful eater that it has been a long time since he has had one. He looked over at me from his Archie chair and said, "Maybe we should get one of those tomorrow." (Not from New York, but a local deli that claims (and seems) to be authentic.) He continued, "I guess eating one is not going to make any difference at this point." And then we both laughed long and hard at his little self-depreciating humor. 

Several years ago, I taught with a woman who was one of the most healthy eaters I had ever known. She developed brain cancer and declared her new diet the, "Eat whatever the ____ I want diet." (Insert colorful adjective she would have never used in front of her kindergarten students.) Maybe we will semi-adopt that diet philosophy. But without the colorful adjective.

So today, I will be making a run to that deli. I know D will only eat a few bites, but I hope they are mouthfuls of happiness for him.  He deserves it.

A Room With a View

I have positioned these pictures right in front of the Archie/Edith chairs. They are family photographs taken by a precious photographer found here. I think that Allison's photography work is more a ministry then a profession. She gave us the gift of clearly captured memories to revisit time and time again. I hope that D looks at them throughout the day with a smile remembering the good times.

I must confess that I have OCD tendencies when it comes to photographs. (And did you hear this week that, yes indeed, Kodak took our Kodacrome away? With apologies to Paul Simon, they will no longer manufacture that vivid film since the digital age is upon us.) I am that friend who always has the camera along, snapping shots and sharing copies. I don't think most of my friends even carry their digitals with them on girlfriend outings anymore, because they know my shots will arrive in the mail in the next few  days. None of them have ever questioned my obsession with visual memories printed on paper, but I have. I know exactly where this less-than-an-addiction-more-than-a-casual-interest came from.

I grew up in a home where my mother hid family photographs in The Box. We were never allowed to look at them because she felt like that would be "dragging up the past". Disturbing, I know.  The only photographic evidence that I  existed (before I could snap my own pictures) are from shots that were retrieved from my grandmother's house. I would see The Box from time to time over the years, but I've never had the opportunity to really look carefully at its contents. My loyal  sister has on occasion offered to put on camouflage, and under cover of night launch a reconnaissance mission for The Box. And The Memories. 

This would explain why I have at least 20 albums of pictures of my children. The oldest child is 24. Doing the math? Almost one complete album a year. It's excessive, I admit that. But, oh!, the memories I've been enjoying during  our in-home vacation this summer. Things I had forgotten are brought to light while flipping through the pages and years of memories.

My favorite pictures right now (besides the ones leaning above) are of the on-going remodeling of our house. We bought it in 1999 from the original owners of 20 years. And they had not changed a thing from the perfection (in their minds) that was the 1979 color scheme. Gold linoleum, orange countertops and plaid wall paper greeted me with the morning coffee when we first moved in. Back then, my husband said he'd stand in the kitchen and try to imagine someone 20 years ago saying, "WOW! Is this gorgeous or what?"

Over the years, my husband and I (and truth be told: mostly my husband) have remodeled, repainted, retiled and retooled every square inch of the inside. He is an amazing craftsman when it comes to woodworking and building.

I was thinking yesterday, as I enjoyed those before-and-after home shots again, that the phrase "amazing craftsman" also applied to his work on our family over the years. Blending a family of four children is hard work requiring constant maintenance. (And have I mentioned a time or twenty that all four were teenagers at once?) And the work continued during the past seven years as he has battled a serious illness. Yet, there is photographic evidence of continuing birthday parties, holidays, four high school graduations, college graduations and even one daughter's wedding during that time.

Because of his perseverance, the family has continued to thrive through out some pretty challenging health situations.  I absolutely believe because of the determination to keep pressing through, we have not missed one blessing that was meant for us during this time.

I have decided that the real prize is The Box that each one of us carries in our hearts and minds. Those precious mental pictures and memories of a life well lived and well spent. The Box  is the legacy we lovingly build and pass down to our families.

And I close with words to a song by Nicole Nordeman that may or may not be familiar to you. But the words? They are our heart.

I want to leave a legacy 
How will they remember me? 
Did I choose to love?

 Did I point to You enough 

To make a mark on things? 
I want to leave an offering 
A child of mercy and grace   

who blessed Your name unapologetically 
And leave that kind of legacy

Shouts of Joy in the Morning

We welcomed Hospice into our quiet little world yesterday. Again, I want to emphasize that this does not mean we're throwing in the towel. It means that we will have better pain management, all the equipment we could possibly need at home, and staff dedicated to my husband's (and my, as it turns out) needs.

 This is a good thing. 

A very good thing.

We are so very grateful.

The Magic of Ordinary Days

Yesterday was a very good day. D stayed awake most of the time and we talked and had a lot of laughs. He requested a Turkey Reuben from Jason's Deli for dinner (and ate it all!) He called our church maintenance men to install some mini-blinds to help keep out this crazy 105 degree heat we are enduring. (I ask myself at this time every year, "Why do I live in Texas in the summer?")

We were able to get a flight for D's daughter E and her boyfriend M to come see us in a few weeks. D's other daughter, H will come that weekend as well. Praying for a sweet time for all.

My friend, J, stopped by with healthy food from fellow teachers last night and whisked me off for Mexican food for about an hour. Would I eat a little queso? she asked. Well: YES. (And I've already thanked her that the queso has left the body along with everything else in my intestines. Just in time for the Curves weigh in. Taking it for the team, J.)

Sweet emails and calls from family and friends. All in all, a very good day. A peaceful island retreat from the cares of the world.

Today, D is very tired. Our pastor has stopped by with sweet words and prayer. Words from Romans 8 that nothing will ever separate us from the love of God. Words from Matthew that even Jesus in the garden asked God to "take this cup away from me", but asked His will to be done. As we do.

And this afternoon, Hospice is coming to our home. This is a good thing. We will have continual access to pain control and fulfillment of practical needs. This does not mean we are throwing in the towel: we are just reaching out to hold a helping hand.

And God continues to keep us at peace. 

Now if He would just do something about this Texas heat.

Choosing the Good Part

Advice that is given to me over and over is, "Try to get out of the house some. The caregiver needs to take care of the caregiver." 

Which would be great advice if there was something I really felt like doing. On this tilting planet we seem to have inhabited, it is hard to work up the desire to wander through a store. I don't care about the 80% off sale at Hobby Lobby in housewares. Very few things outside our home seem to matter.

You probably know the Martha/Mary tug-of-war in the book of Luke. Martha thought she should work, work, work. And she thought everyone else should be work, work, working with her. But Mary chose to sit at the feet of Jesus. One translation is that Mary "listened until she understood".  And Jesus said Mary "had chosen the good part: the part that will not be taken away."

In the craziness of this loud world, let's chose the good part today. But remember that God's voice is often a whisper and we have to listen carefully to hear it. 

Crossroads

Several years ago, my husband was laid off during a semi-conductor downturn. I was teaching kindergarten, and one of my student's dads offered me a summer job at his company. I took it to help us through a temporary hard spot. At the end of the summer, they made me an offer to stay that I could not refuse. 

For the first time in my adult life, I did not start the school year before a classroom of children. Instead, I began it in an office full of men. 

Welcome to Mars. 

At Thanksgiving, the manager grilled a turkey in the warehouse and asked everyone who could to bring sides. There were six crockpots of queso, one untouched veggie tray, and  a multitude of very happy men. 

At Christmas, they ordered 100 hot wings from Hooters. With no sides. I did not bring a veggie tray that time.

Needless to say, we did not sit around in a teacher's lounge and chat. Working lunches often involved stops in stores that sold trailer hitches and ammunition.  The populations in the office was very thin on opening days of dove and deer seasons.  I hung a sign over my trash can, "Do not spit  in here" after I grew tired of retrieving paperwork that was less than Copenhagen free.

But you know what? I really enjoyed my job. It was wonderful to learn a difficult new skill and do it very well. I handled a multi-million dollar account that had to balance to the penny each month. And it did. 

And the pay? Well, let's just say it was more then I would ever make as a teacher even if I hit the top of the scale as a career teacher with several degrees and extra stipends. My commission alone was often twice my teacher salary. While I certainly appreciated that, there were many times that it made me sad that selling computer parts was valued more then teaching children. Much more.

After two years, I began to feel the tug back to the classroom. I liked the job, I liked the men who were my coworkers in Mars and I liked that no one spit in my trash can anymore. But I missed the children and the teaching.

As I was wrestling with the decision to stay or to go, my grandmother became very ill. My co-workers were  precious about covering for me so I could come in late or leave early to visit her in the hospital. After a few weeks, my beloved grandmother passed away. My co-workers in Mars all came to the funeral in suits. Even the warehouse crew. 

But my path suddenly became clear: life is short. Go with your giftings and passion. Returning to the classroom a few months later was like the very best gift I could possibly give myself. And there was so much healing for me in that decision.

In many ways I feel that I am back at that crossroads again. Knowing that there are going to be some big changes on the horizon that are totally out of my control.

But this I know for sure: God has  plans for good; plans that give a future and hope. We never arrive at a change without preparation, because the plan has been in play since the beginning of time. This is not catching God by surprise. He's in charge.

Even in situations that seem as foreign as Mars.

Counting Blessings

One of the blogs that I enjoy reading is found here. It is written by a single woman my age who lives in New York City.  I'm fascinated by how different her life is from mine. I live in a suburb of Austin where one of our claims to fame is a new IKEA. I try to imagine the day to day of living in such a big city. One thing that draws me back again and again is that she strives to write about what is good in her life. Her blog's tagline is "Buttercup counts her blessings: sometimes you get the frozen key lime pie on a stick and sometimes you just get the stick. Trying to stay cheerful in  tough times."

So, amid  the health concerns in my home, here is what is good about our lives:

• A friend brought over fresh, homegrown tomatoes. (Reminds me that real tomatoes, not the imitation mush found in the grocery store or on restaurant salads, have an enormous amount of sweet taste.)
• Friends from another state had Jason's Deli deliver a delicious meal to our home the other night. 
• The lady at Curves gave me a nice blue water bottle Friday.
• A friend brought over a bag full of magazines. (Short articles match my presently short attention span.)
• Cards and letters keep filling our mailbox with sweet words and prayers.
• Sunday School members who deliver soup and salads.
• Our pastor who drops by regularly and brought communion last week.
• Gifts left on the front porch with no name.
• People who offer to come do yard work or clean.

And the list could go on and on. But I know this much is true:

"A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity." (Proverbs 17:17)

or

"Friends love through all kinds of weather, and families stick together in all kinds of trouble." (The Message)

Amen and amen.