“strangers are friends that we some day may meet”

athens tee

via The Sterling Sunflower

Today was just an ordinary day. A visit to the chiropractor, a trip to the Hoover Library book sale, and a stop at the At Home store. But some days, even the most mundane tasks can be a blessing.

The chiro’s office was like a mini family reunion among people I didn’t know. There was pleasant conversation, ohhing-and-ahhing over the cutest little baby boy, and lots of laughter, with Dr. Drew being the loudest.

At the library I had an extended conversation with a young man that started over his compliment to my shirt. I was wearing my Atlanta Braves tee-shirt, and we were both happy after last night’s victory. I then had to compliment HIS shirt which said “Athens Georgia” on it with a picture of a red pickup toting a bulldog. (I googled and found a pic.)

We talked baseball, Braves, and SunTrust stadium. I found out his favorite spot to sit is near first base so he can see his favorite players, Freddie Freeman and Nick Markakis. He mentioned bringing his woobie as rain protection and I knew what that was. He is in the army, so I told him about my son and we then went on to talk about Arlington Cemetery, Tomb Sentinels, and D.C.

Somehow the conversation moved to doing business in a small town. He shared a funny story of when he and his wife went to apply for passports and I shared our (me and hubby’s)  6-hour ordeal getting our licenses and car tags when we moved here in 2014.

I just love running into people and getting to know them. I’ll probably never see him again, but I’ll be looking for him if I get to another Braves game. Or at the next library sale. I think his name is Cervantes.

The following poem  by Edgar Albert Guest expresses so much better how I was feeling today.

Faith

I believe in the world and its bigness and splendor:
That most of the hearts beating round us are tender;
That days are but footsteps and years are but miles
That lead us to beauty and singing and smiles:
That roses that blossom and toilers that plod
Are filled with the glorious spirit of God.

I believe in the purpose of everything living:
That taking is but the forerunner of giving;
That strangers are friends that we some day may meet;
And not all the bitter can equal the sweet;
That creeds are but colors, and no man has said
That God loves the yellow rose more than the red.

I believe in the path that to-day I am treading,
That I shall come safe through the dangers I’m dreading;
That even the scoffer shall turn from his ways
And some day be won back to trust and to praise;
That the leaf on the tree and the thing we call Man
Are sharing alike in His infinite plan.

I believe that all things that are living and breathing
Some richness of beauty to earth are bequeathing;
That all that goes out of this world leaves behind
Some duty accomplished for mortals to find;
That the humblest of creatures our praise is deserving,
For it, with the wisest, the Master is serving.

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Waiting

isbell

nashvillepublicradio.org

I’ve done my share of doctor office waiting room waiting the past few months. The following are some of my observations.

Last month as I was sitting, waiting my turn, a patient’s name was called: Isbell. I looked up at him and he could have passed for Jason’s brother. And this is Alabama, after all. I wanted to ask, but I didn’t. He probably gets asked a lot. So, I go back to reading and hearing a show (trying not to listen) on the TV above my head. I had picked a bad spot to sit. The show was talking about natural feminine hygiene care. Even though I’m feminine and care about hygiene, it was annoying for it to be blaring over my head. My name was finally called and I was allowed to go and freeze in a little examining room. At least I didn’t have to wear a paper gown.

Today I went for my third doctor visit this week (orthopedic, chiropractor, and now ENT). I’ve had some issues with my left ear for about four months and finally realized I had some hearing loss. I suspected, and was correct, that my ear was plugged up. With wax. Yes, gross old wax. The doc unplugged my ear and BOOM! I could hear my footsteps going down the hall. I still have the tinnitus, but at least I won’t have to say “What?” quite so often.

I really liked the ENT’s office. For one thing I wasn’t waiting for two hours. I was in, de-waxed, and out in less than 30 minutes. But, if I’d had to wait, there was a wall hanging with wonderful suggestions. I didn’t even have enough waiting time to write everything down. But here’s what I got:

“We are aware you may be waiting”

 

*RELAX * READ * THINK *BE GRATEFUL * THINK * WRITE*

* REFLECT*

* CREATE * PRAY * BE JOYFUL*

 

“All good abides those who wait wisely”

Words

Word Art 5

 

“Words can be like X-rays, if you use them properly — they’ll go through anything. You read and you’re pierced.” – A. Huxley, Brave New World

I must admit I wasn’t too much pierced by Brave New World, but Huxley’s thoughts sometimes came through like x-rays. The quote above stuck with me, made we realize how much I want my words to pierce. I want my words to make a change, if even just a little bit. And by my words, I’m referring to the written word.  I want for the things I write to make a difference. Somehow, somewhere.

I’ve grown to appreciate The Avett Brothers for their lyrics as well as their sound. Their newest song, Bang Bang, packs a punch with its message. As much as I highly regard Scott and Seth and the crew, I don’t always totally agree with their lyrics. And that’s okay.  I could say that about a LOT of songs I listen to.

“Conceal and carry your fear” doesn’t make sense to me. I’d rather not have to carry around my fear. But, carrying a gun would not alleviate that fear. So what do I do? I pray and do what I can do be aware and lean back on their song No Hard Feelings. I carry on.

“And I’m in here pretending like Sunday is still sacred”  also makes me sad. Sunday IS still sacred, no matter what the neighbors think and no matter how I fail to treat is as such. I’ve got some neighbors who think they are Rambo, too. On any given day or night I hear gunfire in rapid succession. I worry about stray bullets coming down the hill to hit my elderly neighbors who are out for a stroll.

Though I don’t agree with every single word, I totally agree with the message of Bang, Bang. Carry on, Scott, Seth, Bob and Joe.

Habitude

battle

 

I can not recall ever seeing this word before today.  Websters has this to say: habitual disposition or mode of behavior or procedure.

To me it’s like a portmanteau. Like a Spork. Like Forky. But, I digress.

My husband is a man with definite habitudes. I see it more every day. The tomato juice every morning. The laying out of clothes in the evening. Those unsavory (to me) two – just lasagna or chili – Atkins meals for lunch.

But it’s funny how I am wondering what my own habitudes are. I like to mix things up. Try new items on the menu. Rotate my perfume. But and yet, I have a few habitudes. Like the way I vacuum the house on a rotating basis. And carry my iced coffee in my favorite insulated cup to work. And take photos of little plastic toys when I hike.

But I think I’ve overlooked the first part of the definition – the habitual disposition. Oh boy, that’s a hard one to talk about. That’s where I know I need a “Habitude Adjustment”. But for now I’ll leave you with a gallery of my little plastic guys. Maybe one day you’ll find one on the trail somewhere.

Letter to Dad

IMG_4412

Dear Dad,

You never knew a father who sat you down to give you instructions in life. You bellowed because you didn’t know how to express your love. Yet, I knew that you loved me. I would get so angry when I had to do things that the boys weren’t expected to do. My heart would boil with the unfairness of it. How naive and spoiled I was. I didn’t see the hard work you did for us. Without a college education you still rose in the ranks of your company and did your job well. We were well provided for, without a care for our daily needs. We never knew want of any necessity.

The night you held my hand in the car during a thunderstorm was so out of character, and I let you because I sensed it was a real attempt at closing the gap between us. It seemed to be your way of holding on to me so I wouldn’t grow up and away from you.

Your question on my wedding day – “are you sure you want to do this?” was your way of showing your love and concern. The practical way you enunciated “Her mother and I” filled me with tender amusement. I didn’t understand then the feelings you had for your little girl who thought she was all grown up. As a teenager I thought you were callous to mom and that I would not want a man like you for my husband. Yet, a few short years later I chose a boy/man who was like you in many ways. He is a good provider and sometimes awkward with his daughters. He likes sports and doing yard work. And, like you did, he has mellowed over the years. You and mom had over forty years together and I saw how your union was strong until the end. I saw that you were a part of each other, a whole together, one flesh. I thank God for His mercy to me.

Love,

Puncie

March Wisdom

me-is-it-weird-that-i-talk-to-myself-me-28938067

astrologymemes.com

“The temptation for anyone who is much occupied with the hope of some great change and betterment in the near future is to be restless and unable to settle down to his work, and to yield to distaste of the humdrum duties of every day.”  – Alexander Maclaren (1826-1910)

I need to preach this to the choir of myself. Everyday. I need to remind myself that even though I have a desire for the future, I am living in the here and now. I have everyday work to do and I need to do it well.

“Do all things without complaining and disputing, that you may become blameless and harmless, children of God without fault in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding fast the word of life, so that I may rejoice in the day of Christ that I have not run in vain or labored in vain.” – Philippians 2:14-16

 

 

February Wisdom

“I don’t think we can ever love too much…only too little.”  – from Blue Eyes Better by Ruth Wallace-Brodeur

I’v tried to think of a time when this statement wouldn’t apply, but I just can’t. Yes, we can overindulge is many ways, but that isn’t love. We can say “love you’ at the end of every conversation, but that’s not always love; it’s often habit. Sometimes it feels as if we have loved too much when it isn’t returned, but no, if it’s real love it’s never too much.

We have a new dog in our household and it’s been a real learning experience for us all – me, the dog, the husband. We don’t know anything about her background as she was just dumped off at the shelter, but we suspect a little abuse. However, she is one, in whatever way a dog “loves”, that knows no bounds. She can never be accused of loving too little. Our last dog, Loretta, was wonderful. We had her for ten years. She was sweet and faithful as a dog can be and loved being with us and near us. But this new girl, Ruby, she needs to be right next to if not on top of us. She craves and gives the most snuggles of any dog I’ve ever had. But, for me, it’s never too much.

Keep loving – it’s never too much.