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Amy
I have asked several of you for prayer requests multiple times. I will not ask again. I understand that sometimes it’s uncomfortable voicing your problems. Even to a friend. I can see where that would be even more difficult than talking to a stranger. I won’t pretend to know all your worries and fears and struggles, but I know a few of them. And don’t borrow trouble, I’m not going to type them out here. Maybe that’s what concerns you, that even though I don’t have to use your name, someone could figure out who I was writing about. I get it. Thomas Wolfe was ostracized from Asheville after he wrote Look Homeward Angel. He didn’t use their real names, but the descriptions were so blindingly obvious (and accurate) people talked for decades. I haven’t read it (yet, it’s a book club selection later this year) but I say maybe the folks of Asheville should have treated him with a little more respect if they didn’t want their faults and realities trotted out for all to enjoy. I mean, read. Anyway. No matter. Some of you struggle with family issues, or career issues, or health issues. Some of you struggle to simply believe. Trust me, I get it. There’s nothing to be ashamed about. You just talk to the Lord and work it out. It’ll be…
Out my window, I gaze upon a church, a pink house, an alarming number of squirrels, and a yard that is often in need of a cut. I count the rabbits that frolic, and pray the stray cats aren’t nearby. I keep a close watch on the weather, because I seem to serve as the local weatherman, and look for my buddy, the black lab, that lives two doors down. I can’t complain about the temperature yet, we’re hovering at a stable 73°. Pollen is present, but it’s raining frequently enough to keep it beat down. The redbuds are in full bloom, the dogwoods are just beginning, and the daffodils are quickly expiring. The birds sing all day long. It’s quiet, for the most part. I’m near the library, and the school, and the police station. It feels safe in my cozy space. It’s not a town where many walk, but I do. Not necessarily to get anywhere in particular, just to enjoy the day while I can. Away from my backyard where I look out at a church, a pink house, and a multitude of squirrels. I go to see the cherry tree, and the red tulips down the road, and the old man at the corner sitting in his lawn chair with his wooden cane and mesh back hat. He always speaks and remarks upon the weather. There goes a rabbit. When the phone…
I have taken up a stranger for my Lent today. So therefore I had to set my own sacrifice. For the day, I chose to face challenges. My first challenge was getting out of bed and without hitting snooze. I used to be really good about that, getting up right away. But I’ve progressed to a more slug-like existence in recent years. My second challenge was opening mail. I hate going to the mailbox. First of all, it’s dangerous on my road! Second of all, I rarely get anything fun. Just a bunch of crap. Thirdly, there are spiders. But to be honest, I still hate email worse. There aren’t even spiders! And it’s not dangerous, other than I will be presented with lots of ways to spend money. I usually don’t even bother opening it. It languishes in my inbox for all eternity. Right now I’m sitting on 7,723 unopened items. That’s just one of my accounts. Anyway. Today I’m praying for a mother of a child she birthed very recently, prematurely, and lost quickly. Is there a greater pain? I doubt it. Lord, we don’t know the reason. It may not be revealed in this lifetime. All we know is the heartache of losing someone that wasn’t ever ours to begin with. Please be with this mother in the coming days, months, and years, as she…
The Montgomery Vindicator was a newspaper ran out of Sevierville, Tennessee from the late 1800’s through the 1960s when it combined with another local newspaper. I am told it operated in the Hatcher’s Cleaners building downtown. My intention when I set out on this particular blogging journey was to tell you that bit, and then turn it into several stories, the first being a fictional newspaper story, then in recurring posts, the Montgomery Vindicator being the name of a firearm passed down from generation to generation since the Texas Revolution, then whatever else came to mind. Perhaps a Judge whose nickname was The Vindicator. Or something. I first learned about the Vindicator during a side conversation at library board the other night. It immediately intrigued me and set my mind a-swirl. Early this morning I thought I’d start the telling of it and Googled “Montgomery Vindicator Sevierville” to get all my facts straight. One of the first links was for “some death notices from 1897-1901”. In case you didn’t already know it, I am a sucker for obituaries. They frequently let me down. I need more details! I assume the worst anyway, you may as well appease me. I’m already thinking it. I am also a fanatic about local history. Well, really, any Southern States history. Okay, okay, any history. Except maybe China’s or something. But lemme tell you, I have been…
I’m sitting on my couch, hungry. I can barely concentrate to type. It’s not even that I’m hungry, per se. I have a craving…lots of cravings…for cheese. For ice cream. Ice cream sandwiches, to be particular. I haven’t had an ice cream sandwich in years. Haven’t even thought of them…but….oh….how dreamy one would be right now. I’m driving myself crazy. Of course I would want all the things I can’t have right now. I’m repeating no dairy day. The person I’m praying for didn’t have a request, so I thought this would be a good a time as any to re-do this sacrifice. I was better prepared this time around. I had purchased an almond milk mocha Starbucks frappucino in lieu of my regular milk based one. I thought it would be okay. That’s what I get for thinking. It tasted like watered down chalk dust with a tablespoon of the cocoa baking powder stirred in for “flavor”. It was so bad, I poured out half of it. $2 down the drain. Lunch was better. I had all the fixin’s for a loaded salad with Italian dressing, just hold the cheese. I didn’t miss the cheese, but I was hungry an hour later. I think it’s in my mind…
And then there’s today. I’m a little grouchy. Monday has nothing to do with it. My back hurting has a lot to do with it. And a dull headache. And, you know, the lack of CHOCOLATE. I didn’t think I was dependent. Well, turns out, I was wrong. I was all prepared to glug my big Starbucks mocha this morning when I thought I might ought to check the label. You know, to be sure. Cocoa. Huh. Who knew? Where did I think mocha came from, anyway? A mocha plant? I don’t know. So there went that, and I couldn’t have regular coffee, either, because I have that funny chicken creamer that is chocolate flavored. I’ll just glower here with my boring 2% milk, thanks. I had one million and six people come by work today. Something about Mondays and Fridays. I don’t know. It was deceptively cold out, the wind would flat cut you in two. But oh! It looked so clear and pretty and the sun was shining and it was just enticing you to come out and freeze right to death. Dirty redbud winter. Shame. But enough about all that. I’m here to pray for my friend. She recently had surgery and has been suffering through some complications with that. I really feel for her, because she is so active and upbeat and one of those people who just shine the…
I can’t seem to get my act together. I woke a little late for my taste and had to bounce to get to work on time. Luckily, it’s all of five minutes from the house 🙂 I didn’t have much time for thinking what with all the icing to be done. Food City keeps me hopping, and I like it! My back doesn’t much care for it, though. I don’t know how I stood ten hours a day, five days a week at the Co-op all those years. I remember my feet giving me the devil and being nearly crippled there at the end, but not my back. Never my back. But I’m older now, and whether or not I like to admit it, heavier, too. It takes a toll. And I’m standing in the same spot virtually all day, and putting pressure through my hands and arms. It’s all connected, according to my yoga guru. I guess it makes sense. I’m just tired. Around three o’clock I was really starting to hurt and I would have welcomed a fifteen. I didn’t want to ask for one, since my coworkers were doing inventory and busy too. I guess I could have just went, nobody would have said a word, but I was right in the middle of all those carrot cakes. and it was time to start cleaning…
I ain’t got no lies to tell. I didn’t really “do” Lent yesterday. And I didn’t really do it today, either. I am a lazy slacker. Yesterday, I started out with good intentions. As is my new custom, before I got out of bed, I concentrated on who my person was. I had her. I prayed. Then I thought…what am I giving up? She never said. Well, I knew it wouldn’t be toilet paper, so I set about my routine activities for the morning. And all I drink is water for about the first hour I’m awake, so I was safe there. I sent her a message and waited for her reply. I knew she wouldn’t give me virtual farming (that would be cruel and unjust) so I went to town on my game. I started a little laundry. I poured me a giant glass of chocolate milk. And that’s where I went wrong. I had just sat my glass down when she answered that I could fast chocolate…or if I wanted to be really hard core: sugar. I wrote back no thanks, I’d done been down that treacherous road once this Holy Season, I would pass on a second day of it. And of course I couldn’t do chocolate since I’d just downed a big glass with bunny powder. So here we were…
A year ago, when I took my new job, I began working in conjunction with a girl who’s about my age. I suppose “girl” would be a stretch, as we’re much closer to 40 than 16. Much, much closer. We also have the same last name, and almost the same first name. It could be very confusing to people who have never met us. While we maybe even favor each other a little bit, she and I could not be further apart when it comes to personalities. While she plays close to the vest (I still don’t feel like I know her that well, despite all the talking we do), and follows the rules to the letter, y’all know me–if it goes through my head it generally comes out of my mouth. Or at least onto this screen. And rules? Who needs them? I’ll read them after the fact if I need to. One thing we do have in common is being particular. Although she hems and haws about speaking up about the way she prefers things are done, I say “do it like this, or just let me do it”. She’s an excellent, patient teacher. I would really be up a creek without a paddle if she weren’t around to explain things and show me how to navigate. She has a decent sense of humor, which is uncommon in…
I sometimes think I don’t deserve the friends I have. Y’all are way too nice to be hanging around riffraff like me. A month or so ago, after Rhonda had met a few members of my extended tribe, she remarked –totally out of the blue– “You have the nicest friends!” I usually meet the nicest ones through work, where they can’t run and have no choice but to hang out with me. Does that explain it? I thought so. Or, I give them money for providing me with a service, so it’s like I’m paying them to be my friend. I’ll name no names, but I bet you’re smiling 🙂 Or, you might just be family and clearly, you have no choice. So the girl I write about today falls into one of these categories. I’m protecting the innocent by not naming any names. She’s fairly introverted, but she talks to me. We have a similar set of bad nerves and it is therapeutic to share notes. She’s just a small town girl living in what passes for a big city to her. I know it must be hard adapting, moving away from everything you’ve ever known. It’d be like packing me up and moving me down to Atlanta or something. I’d be shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm! Fortunately…
