Comfort in the Rockin' Chairs

Last night as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep, I looked at my wall...

My mind was filled with lots of things: peace from a good Christmas day, joy in knowing that my family was safe and snug in their beds, lists of things that needed to be done, and concerns for people I love.

I had no answers for the worries I carried. I turned them over and over in my head. I quietly and vaguely tried to give those burdens to the Lord...and my heart hurt a little bit.

And then, I looked at my wall again and noticed that there was, staring at me, a photograph of some empty rockin' chairs on my parents' front porch. Somehow, even though the chairs were empty, I received comfort from the sight of them.

Solutions to those worries did not magically appear. And yet, something about those rocking chairs, something about the love that they represent gave me hope for things that don't seem to have much right now...

Just a little at a time....

Some of you may know that in slightly more than 9 weeks, I'm gonna walk in the Breast Cancer 3-Day.

It's a big walk... 60 miles in 3 days. Lots of miles each of those days.

So, to get ready, I've been trying to follow the training plan as much as possible. It doesn't always work exactly like the plan, but I try to do what I can.

Yesterday, I thought I was supposed to do a 12 mile walk. So, I took the dog for the first 4 miles and then Harv and the girls met me at Starbucks, had a cup of coffee, and took the dog back home. I, on the other hand, continued to walk -- for eight more miles (Harv joined me for the last 2 1/2 miles).

I was sore. And tired. And, it turns out, when I looked on the training schedule, it was supposed to have been a 14 mile day. I was pretty proud of walking 12 miles and a little disappointed that I didn't follow the plan. I got over it. And, tried to pump myself up for a ten mile walk today.

This morning I didn't really want to walk. I was still sore from yesterday and I didn't want to have to wake up early. My nice neighbor walked with me for the first five miles. Then I came home, showered, changed my clothes and walked to and from church (the last five miles).

All along the way, I really didn't want to be walking. I enjoyed time with my neighbor and on the way to and from church I listened to good music, but I would have really enjoyed staying at home for my first cup of coffee and riding to and from church.

However!! On the way home, (my last 2 1/2 miles) I had a revelation...

There is a training plan to get my body and my mind ready. For each mile I don't want to walk, but do anyway, I gain a little more confidence... a little more, "I can do THIS." Because I walked 12 miles yesterday and 10 more miles today, it gives me the hope that I can walk the 15 miles that's comin' up at the end of this week.

And, it occurred to me that training for the 3-Day is a lot like life. Every time we do something --- even when we don't think we have it in us --- we get more and more prepared for the things that are ahead.

So! For those of you who may be walking the 3-Day, walk on!! It's gettin' you ready in lots of ways.

And, for those of you facing what seems to be an insurmountable task, do it a little at a time and each step will prepare you for what's ahead.

GoFightWin!

Four Unexpected Boxes

Today when I opened my mailbox, I found a BIG box-- and it was addressed to me! I wasn't expecting anything; no one had warned me that it was going to arrive. So, naturally, I was curious about its contents.

As I walked back to the house, my mind came up with a few possibilites, but I was NOT expecting what I found when I opened the box.

Inside the well-wrapped and well-taped box were 4 other boxes. And those boxes held the 50 some-odd years' worth of Mama's recipes.

The tears started unexpectedly. There was something very personal and real about having the recipes my mother used and added to for years.

The emotion remains.

Remembering the Little Things

The other day, some friends on Facebook started talking about the Varsity, a greasy, fast-food establishment in Atlanta. It's been around since before my father went to Georgia Tech and it was one of our family's traditions to go there -- often after church on Sundays.

Thinking about the Varsity, made me think about what our family ordered and how it was handled... Usually, we sat in the upper "newer" area. We'd all sit down and Papa would take a napkin from the holder and remove the pen from his shirt pocket. Then he'd write down:

• chili only dog (and write tally marks (not actual numbers) next to that depending on how many people wanted 'em.)


• PC (usually only two tally marks -- for him and Mama)


• FO (that was my order)


• onion rings (one tally mark)


• fries (one tally mark)

And, to tell you the truth, I don't have any idea what everybody else ordered. I think Mary Celeste ordered a hamburger.

And when we were young, we used to love to take about 5 straws from the straw container and put them together and pretend like they were very long cigarettes.

Anyway! When I started to remember how my father took our order, it made me think of his handwriting -- which led to me thinking about a lot of teeny weensy (an expression he also used) other things that I loved about my father, which were really just teeny weensy things. And yet, they were things that made my father, my father.

Things like:

• the way he loved to sit on the front porch during thunderstorms


• the special bed he made on the floorboard of the car when we went on long trips


• the way he folded towels


• the way he brushed his teeth (I still can hear that sound)


• the way he said "Amen" after he heard good church music


• the way he raked leaves and worked in the yard


• the way he swept and mopped the front porch


• the way he turned around to back up the car


• the way he rubbed my legs when I had growing pains


• the way he wrapped me up in a towel and carried me back to my bedroom after a bath


• silly songs he sang like: "Happy birthday to you. You live in a zoo. You look like a monkey and you smell like one, too." and "Hattie was in the garden howin' 'round the 'maters. Hattie ran 'round the huckleberry bush and I hit her in the eye with a tater."


• his silly little recitation: "Ma, make 'Lian leave Jule alone." (Lillian and Julie)


• the tears in his eyes when he sang old songs


• the way he answered the phone at work.... "Rrrobert Hall"


• riding the waves with him at Jekyll


• the way he hugged relatives and people he loved


• seein' him talk to Uncle Wheeler on the front porch when Uncle Wheeler and Aunt Ruby would come to Atlanta

It's funny how one little memory can spark lots of others.

What a blessing to have had a father who gave me memories in which I can take comfort even now.

It's the little things that warm my heart.

Here's an idea...

I've never thought a whole lot about writing a memoir, but last weekend, I picked up a book by Natalie Goldberg that piqued my interest. It's called Old Friend from Far Away: The Practice of Writing Memoir.

Not sure what I was going to do with it, I thought that, at the very least, it could just help me get busy writing.

This morning I picked it up and read the first few pages. The first one jumped out at me beacause the title was: Read this Introduction. Interesting that she knew that I often times prefer NOT to read the introductions of books. AND! Interesting that I must not be the only one.

Her writing "hooked" me so I kept reading. I even read the next "chapter" called Note to Reader... which made me want to keep reading.

First chapter is called Go. In that chapter, the reader is given an assignment which is first to spend 10 minutes filling up ugly, ol' spiral notebook page(s) with the completion of the sentence: "I'm looking at..." Upon completing that exercise, the next assignment is to complete the sentence: "I'm thinking of..." Each time, spending 10 minutes just writing what comes to mind.

Her rules are to keep your hand moving. Be specific: Cadillac instead of car; sycamore instead of tree. If you get stuck, you should begin again with the sentence "I'm looking at..." or "I'm thinking of..."

The exercise was wonderful (even though my hand was sore)... It brought lots of possible story possibilities to mind. It intrigued me to think about all the stuff that's inside of me that I may not have touched yet with my writing.

Tomorrow's exercise is gonna be fun, too... "I remember..."

There once was a man...

(photo: Laura Kitchens)

There once was a man who was many things.
He was a husband and a father and an architect and an officer in the church and a friend.
He laughed a lot, and he worked hard.
He was sensitive and he was firm.
He spanked me and he also hugged me.
He was quiet so I didn't always know what he was thinking.
But I always knew he loved me.
He was a good, good man.
And, words do not express how much I loved him.
And, words do not express how much I miss him.
He was a good, good man.

Outside with Her Dog

Sarah wrote a poem this weekend that I thought was well worth sharing.

Outside with my Dog

We run
Around and
Around and
Around.
She scampers
Up the old pile
Of wood
And the hill
Of ivy.
She makes it.
I squeak a
Wheezy, chewy
Ball and her
Ears
Prick up, like
She knows
That
I’ll do it one more time.
And when I do,
She zooms,
Down the broken, wooden
Stairs.
I freeze,
Brace myself
For the dog who is like
A jet-
She’ll knock you
Over,
Despite the size.
She grabs the
Ball and at last
Runs away with it.
She looks like someone
Who has just
Gotten a bite
Too big to chew-
The ball is too
Big for her mouth.
When she waits
by the gate

I cautiously
Let her out,
The cat is nearby.
She pulls, and
I let her out of
My grip.
Out from my
Peripheral
Vision, I see
Her trot to
The cat.
I quickly
Close the
latch and hurry
towards her.
I see a tiny,
Delicate grey
Paw swipe at
Her golden-red
Muzzle.
She backs up,
Her rear
High,
And waits.
I drag her,
Her resistance
Loosens
At the door.
She runs
Inside, finds
A toy,
And rushes to
Me,
While I
close the door.