I get a bit of a break today. ‘Bout time. I read the other day that many don’t adhere to Lent on Sundays. I have been, primarily because I don’t attend church, and I have a whole bunch of people to pray for! I need every day. All I had to do today, besides pray, was meet my selected friend for breakfast (at my favorite breakfast joint) and get to work on time. That last part is easier said than done. But I was close enough if it came to horseshoes or hand grenades. AND I was a whole minute EARLY to IHOP. So that counts for something, right?
The prayers are simple. I am to pray for her friends and family that are facing trials and tribulations. I was thinking on the way up the road this morning that we ask for a lot of things, but when we’re sick, that always rockets to the top of the list. When you’re sick, truly sick, not one other thing matters. You just want to be well. So I’ll pray for those first, and probably a bit more fervently in my mind. I don’t know what the rest of her tribe is going through, but I imagine it’s just life. Life can be daunting. I attended a funeral once, I think it was Joe Woods’, and the preacher said, “You’re either going through a trial, just got through one, or fixin’ to go through another.” That’s the God’s truth! Seems like you barely get recovered when you’re slammed with something else. That’s why I recommend yoga. It gives you a few moments of peace, anyway, to sort and box up all your thoughts and concentrate your energy on this one thing. Your mind will drift, but you crave that clarity that you had for just a moment and you’ll make your way back. Every time you do yoga, you get a little better at turning off the constant stream of Everything Else. Pack it up, you can unpack what’s important later. And all the stuff you started with and boxed away diminishes in importance after a session, so you’re not longer intimidated by this great big pile of crap you thought was so essential to your day. You gain perspective on what you can change, and what was just worry that isn’t helping anybody. And that’s all I’m gonna force on you today.
Lord I come to you with a strong heart and mind to ask you to restore, to heal, to protect those who are hurting today. I pray for my friend Donna, that she may be a comfort to those who depend on her. May she serve as a listening ear and warm hand to those who need her. I thank you for Donna, as she has always been a good friend to me. I know she has the ability to soothe the mind and offer good advice. She is caring and sensitive and loves all your creatures. I hope that her friends and family appreciate her and know how wonderful it is to have her in their life, on their side. I pray that your wisdom be bestowed on those at a crossroads, show them the way. The truth and the life is with you only, Lord, and if we look towards you all the time, we will not be steered wrong. I pray for those with broken hearts to be mended, and those dreading going to the doctor or getting results to be comforted and strengthened by You. I pray that they seek wisdom only through you. I also pray for a new colleague to be a quick study and an honest employee. I pray that she learns the ropes with minimal direction and takes to the new job effortlessly. I pray for Donna’s migraines to diminish, and her horses to comply under her will. All of this in Jesus’ name. Amen.
I met Donna years ago–where else?— at the Co-op, of course. We shared a love of gaited horses and chocolate. I can always depend on her for the honest truth and an ally when it comes to animal rights activists. She’s always thinking of me and others and dropping uplifting cards in the mail. Even her prayers today included none for herself, I ad libbed them. She’s one of those solid souls who brave Gatlinburg every day. A native of Sevier County, we understand each other on a level you don’t find in people who have come here. You can trace generations back and talk about who’s kin to who, and who was neighbors with whom, and just a whole litany of things you only learn by living here your whole entire life. For instance, the Catlett bunch are notoriously tight. There’s a long line of liars and cheats in a certain family that lives out near them. The Hill family always builds rock fences.
Stuff like that.
In conclusion, I’m thankful Donna is in my life, to share in my happiness and despair. I’m also thankful for her pound puppy, Jake, of the soulful eyes and perfect spots. And Kyle, her husband, who always has a Parton grin and a how-do-you-do. They’re good, down home people.
Sigh.
Sigh.
I’m doing that a lot lately. Then I remember my breathing yoga-esque exercises and try to relax my shoulders and ground myself and think happy thoughts. Which ties into my Lent fast today.
I am to give up hate.
Now, this is a tricky thing. Those of you who know me are like, “Amy hates??? She seems so happy and carefree!!” and the ones of you who really know me are laughing hysterically. Because, in general, no, I’m not much of a hater. I LIKE stuff. I LOVE stuff. I attempt to look for the beauty and happiness in life.
But then….people. I like to say I’m an equal opportunity racist. I hate all people equally.
I don’t even hate my hate! I like to be angry sometimes. I think our rage protects us to a point. Like, if I didn’t get mad, my feelings would be hurt, and Lord knows my feelings are right there at the edge anyway. I’m the biggest crybaby there ever was. And some people don’t appreciate that, it’s seen as a weakness in the workplace, especially. So it’s better to be angry.
I hate getting sunburned but I like peeling the dead skin off. It feels so nice when fresh air hits it. It’s so satisfying to get a big long piece.
I hate peeling oranges but I love eating them. Same for crab legs. Barely enough joy to offset the aggravation of cracking legs.
I hate surprise nuts (ground up nuts in food). It’s either banana bread, or banana NUT bread. Please specify.
I hate mosquitoes, but I love bats and swallows. Would I love bats and swallows just as much if they didn’t consume tons of mosquitoes in their lifetime? I don’t know.
I love ponds, the turtles, and cattails and the duckbill that disguises what’s underneath. But I don’t love fishing in them because I always get hung up in the muck or a log. And they’re a breeding ground for the above-mentioned insect.
I hate people who come here illegally. I hate the ones who try to change our language, our religion, our right to keep and bear arms. I hate that they get free healthcare and social security benefits that taxpaying citizens pay out the nose for. I hate that they drive the crime rate up, whether from committing crimes themselves or driving others to commit a crime towards them. Pay your taxes. Just because we pray publicly does not mean you have to join in. Just don’t make a spectacle. Close your eyes and meditate. I don’t care what you do, but keep your mouth shut and show some respect. I hate that due to affirmative action, minorities have a better shot at getting certain jobs due to their heritage. Seems to me that’s the very defintion of discrimination. But I love the work ethic of some of these people. I am proud that they aren’t above laboring in the heat or the multitude of dirty occupations. I like the new foods that have been introduced due to this influx of people. Examples include: tacos, cheese dip, aguave tequila, and maybe curry (I’ve never tried it, but I’m feeling brave). You have come here. Please adapt, or in the very least keep your opinion to yourself, or go back where you came from.
I hate Yankees who come down here and complain about the way we do things and the way we talk. I love Yankees who embrace our customs of good manners and dawdling in the grocery store and carrying on conversations with complete strangers.
I hate it when people don’t wave when you let them out in traffic. I have nothing to love here, except the sarcasm in my head when trying to come up with reasons I would love it.
I hate Alabama fans that live in Tennessee and refuse to keep their obnoxious fandom properly hidden YEAR ROUND, but especially in the face of 110,000 wearing orange and singing Rocky Top at the top of their lungs. I love that they think we don’t hate them, truly, in our hearts and souls. I love their ignorance, because that runs deeper than pure stupidity. Bless their hearts.
I hate a liar. I love that they think they’ll never be found out and I love the look on their face when it is exposed. I especially love it when you can slap the face that’s spewing the lie. I hate that some will never pay for their lies here on Earth. I love that a much worse fate awaits them at the pearly gates.
I hate McMansions on a half acre lot. I love when people take on an old house and embrace the character, committing to bringing it back it’s former glory.
I hate eye twitches and hiccups. I love when they quit.
I hate exercise, but I love it when it’s over. And I love that I forced myself to go, and give it my ALL because why would I half-ass it when I’m already there and committed? I love that I can apply breathing techniques from yoga to real life situations when I get anxious.
I hate saturated fat, but I sure do love french fries.
I hate when people mistreat dogs, because I love dogs. And dogs don’t deserve it. They love unconditionally. And I hate when people relinquish old dogs because they don’t want the vet bills and added responsibilities that come with caring for an older dog. I’m not talking about extraordinary measures, I’m just talking about dogs that aren’t attractive and spry anymore. Ones that maybe need a little more upkeep with better food and assistance with getting up and down stairs.
I hate Bradford pears, but I love that it gives the honeybees something to work. I hate allergies, but I appreciate the fact that allergy shots make a difference….if I would take the time to schedule them and go. I’m thankful my allergy pills make a big difference in the meantime.
I hate that I cry so much, but I love that I have a heart that cares.
I hate people with no personality, sense of humor, or passion. What’s the point? Can you not find anything to be excited about? Or at least feel strongly towards? I love their even keel and am envious that they’ve seemingly turned off their emotions. Wouldn’t that be nice to have control of?
I hate most of the new music, but I love that I can jam to music I love and grew up on anytime.
I hate people who refuse to educate themselves on both sides of the story and try to call themselves “open minded” but they are just trying to conform to this new era of b. s. labeled tolerance. I’m not tolerant, and I’m not sorry. I love when people practice love, and listen, and try to offer insight or gentle suggestions on improving your way of life without being pushy about it. I love that someday they will learn the hard way.
I hate that I’ll soon be forty and don’t have the life I thought I had secured. I love that this experience has opened my eyes to blessings I may have overlooked otherwise. I love that my Lent challenge is taking it a step further. I hate that I had the experience I did, but I love that I’m reconnecting with some that I thought I had lost forever. I’m glad they aren’t afraid of exposing their hearts again. I love that I’m comparatively happy and definitely healthier than many of my friends and associates.
Sigh.
Sigh.
Breathe.
Breathe.
It can always be worse. Just look around. I heard once that if we all threw our problems in a pile and saw what everybody else was dealing with we’d jerk ours back out quick fast and in a hurry. I have no doubt that this is true. I have it pretty good, as life has shown me. And when the chips are down, you just have to remember blessings are right around the corner. We are probably being saved from something much worse for the bit of heartbreak and hardship we are enduring. Remember that. REMEMBER.
Hello God. Gotta pull myself up from my bootstraps sometimes. Gotta think about others and how my worst problem is barely a blip compared to some of the things going on in this world. It is highly unlikely I’ll be shot at today. I definitely won’t be starving. I have a home that is safe and warm. I have friends who care what happens to me and love me in spite of my faults. I know you. You know me. I can read my Bible in peace, without fear of persecution. I don’t have to walk to get where I’m going. I can turn a faucet and get clean water. I have TWO great jobs that I love. I have use of all my faculties and limbs and I feel pretty good, really. I’m thankful I can pray to you, anytime, anywhere, for anybody and anything. Today I pray for Whitney. I pray that she sees her blessings clearly, and that she continues to go forward with a grateful heart. I pray that she keep her optimistic encouraging attitude in all her endeavors and people she meets. I ask that you show her favor among her coworkers when it is time for an advancement, promotion, and raise. I ask that you look over her and her family and bless them abundantly, and keep them safe from wickedness. I pray for happiness and light-heartedness. I also pray Whitney becomes a better cook when it comes to southern dishes. A little bird told me she was having a wee bit of trouble with pork chops. I pray that Minor’s pallette will broaden, opening him up to new flavors and textures. Please don’t let him starve, Lord. I pray for their future together and to let your graciousness abound in their lives. In all this I pray. Amen.
When Whitney came into my life, I was fully prepared to keep her at a distance. I would go so far as to say I did not want to like her. I had gotten attached to Ashley, the girl she was replacing while on maternity leave. Whitney seemed to pale in comparison to my friend.
I could not have been more wrong.
Whitney and I soon became the singing and dancing sensation of the Co-op, performing on demand early of the morning and at a memorable Christmas Party. John had gotten ran over by an alpaca that day while on a farm visit and we felt led to sing a little ditty.
Whitney is the definition of quirky. I love her dearly and she’s helped me in many ways. She’s thoughtful and fun and intelligent and quick. She’s encouraging and energetic. She’s frugal and funny and wonderfully weird. We are both terrible at pool but totally talented at drinking margaritas on patios.
Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy??? Glad you’re here, whatever this is.
Life has a way of humbling you. It seems like as soon as you have a plan for the way you want your life to go, here comes a great big socket wrench right at your face. So you revise, and find a new path. You might even get to continue that way for awhile, but sooner or later you hit a pothole and you veer offtrack again. Except it’s only offtrack in your mind, God had decided long before how things were going to go for you. It’s just hard to swallow sometimes.
I know a girl who was destined to do great things. She was going into the military. She was hoping to work in Intelligence. And she could have. But she changed her mind during aptitude tests. The Army wanted her, but being a Sagittarius, her mind was made up and that was that. She was going out of state to school to major in communications. She was a big communicator.
But her best laid plans were shot again. Back home and pregnant, she worked a series of jobs that weren’t designed to be career-building, but they paid the bills. And at one, she met her husband. New plans. More children. And now: a house in the midst of cornfields, a gym membership, and a cabinet full of wine, we find our hopeful CIA agent. Her eyes are the same, even if her hair is not. Her parents, already old when we were young, are even older now, and unable to care for themselves. They are dependent on her and her husband for a place to live and more than anything, someone to drive them everywhere they need to go.
That’s a lot of people in one moderately sized house. And dogs. That’s a lot of headache and schedules and food to prepare. That’s a lot of time allocated to being present for all these people she loves. It’s hard to find time to center yourself.
I’ve been warned never to pray for patience, for the Lord will send you trials to practice patience. This is tricky. Lord, I pray that my friend find peace and an open heart. I pray that her family tries to be the best they can be and not press her buttons. I pray they each understand another’s needs and communicate effectively before little problems blossom into big ones. I pray for understanding on all fronts. I pray for encouragement for all of them, whatever their challenges are day to day. I am thankful you that you have blessed this family with a house that can hold them all and a lucrative career that keeps them afloat. I am thankful they are healthy and able to run and shout and jump and play. I’m thankful they live in a safe area and that they know You. I pray she puts You first, above all others, trusting that things will work out if she can get out of Your way. I pray for this family to remain strong, and see it through, and their eyes not be led astray by provocative choices. Let the children grow up knowing they can always come home, and keep them off the paths of deceit and drugs. May we never betray the trust of family. Let your love shine on them so they can pass it along to those in need. Keep our eyes on you, Lord, and the path you have designed for us to follow. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
She has tasked me with not saying no. I say no a lot. Here all this time I thought it was a virtue. I’m told people take classes to learn how to say no. It slips off my tongue as easy as a turtle on a slimy log. Had she left it up to me, I would have fasted selfies, because she’s fan of them 🙂 But she’s like, “Just the word no….see how that goes.” I can tell you how I see it going: a giant cluster. It even gave Beth pause, and she is ever the optimist. So I’ve been practicing alternate responses. For example, if someone calls and asks me if I’ll be here Sunday, I can say, “We’re here Monday through Friday, 8-4:30.” If someone asks if I can make a snake cake, I’m gonna tell them I can make caterpillar cupcakes. The art of evasion. I won’t say no. {Also, I’m not posting this till tomorrow so y’all can’t trap me. Y’all would have me agreeing to all.sorts of funky plans}
12:18 So far, so good. I have very little interaction with people for the most part, and other than the engineer and the IT guy, I’ve not seen anyone. I called in my lunch so as to play it safe from “lunch special” suggestions.
9:45 I have officially made it, as it is now time for bed. I had to work my way around “no” twice at Fun City, but I don’t think they are none the wiser to my wily ways.
So, all in all, it wasn’t difficult. Now, if I were to be somewhere holding conversations all day I would have certainly had a much harder time. I only entrusted two people with what my Lent challenge was today, and I thank them for not taking advantage. I could have been roped into moving, or going on an excursion to see a ball of earwax or some such nonsense.
Or worse. Much, much worse.
Love from Appalachia,
Amy xoxo
My friends are cruel.
I’m not even gonna keep you in suspense on this one.
No jewelry.
Do you KNOW how much I love my jewelry? It hangs from every doorknob in my bedroom, two drawers crammed full, two jewelry trees, and a jewelry box. The bigger and flashier, the better.
And not one piece will adorn me today. No eye-catching necklace, no jingling bracelets, no sparkly rings, not even my tiny glittering studs are in my ears.
I feel exposed.
But. The reason is solid, and so I dressed in such a way I wouldn’t have worn much, anyway. I feel so drab. I feel like a BOY.
But I suppose it came on an okay-enough day. I didn’t have to go anywhere today, besides work and spin, and at work I’m not exactly flocked with strangers most days. As for spin, I take almost all my jewelry off, and I don’t think I can look any worse than when I’m exercising, so it’s fine.
Who gave me this little piece of hell, you want to know? My good friend, Jena. That’s right, she knows exactly where to go for blood. Dirty, dirty. I would never mistreat her that way.
Y’all should know I just spent an eternity hunting for a certain picture of her on my flash drives. I didn’t find it but here’s a picture of the picture, and it will just have to do. 😁
Enough on my vanity. Onto my prayers.
Father, I come to you tonight with an anxious heart. To think of what my friend is enduring, I cannot fathom. I know it can always be worse. But I ask you to keep Rob safe as he is out on the roads making his way, providing for his family. I know he never intended to be away from them this much, and I know how his heart aches. I ask for a hedge of protection around him and keep those angels near. I pray for your strength firmly at Jena’s back as she cares for their boys, delivering them to school, making sure their shoes are tied and their hair is combed and their homework is done. Making sure they’ve eaten and brushed their teeth and remembered their science fair project. Those are good, good boys and I can only imagine how their heart hurts when they want to show their daddy something and he’s not right there to see and listen. And Jena, working all day in the healthcare system and then having to pick those two rambunctious boys up and rein them in to eat supper and wash up and say prayers and get into bed without Daddy there to tuck them in. I know lots of single parents do it with no help at all, but maybe it’s even harder when you’re used to having a helpmate to split responsibilities. At any rate, I pray for confidence and ease of negotiations in the event Rob seeks employment elsewhere in order to be home. We thank you for careers that bless us with money to live our lives, and we are humbled that we have the ability to work and communicate and drive. I thank you for their healthy sons and the little farm to raise them on. I pray that Jena stays in control and isn’t overwhelmed during the four years Rob is on contract. It is my desire that this time apart will only serve to strengthen their relationship with each other, and more importantly, strengthen their relationship with You. I pray for your grace and your peace to settle within them all, and soothe their troubled hearts. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
I have no “new” stories on Jena, I don’t see her enough and when I do we don’t get into the mischief we used to. And to be fair, I forced her to pick something to fast. She said I didn’t have to because we love food too much!! See how sweet she is? She’s one of those rare people I fell right in with, and I never have to be anything but precisely myself. She accepts me with all my faults on full display and I love her for it. I love her and her family for a million reasons, and one near the top is she doesn’t force her darling little boys on me. As a matter of fact, she goes to great lengths to keep us separated. 😁 That’s a true friend, right there.
Prayers for all the people out there who thought life would be different, that it would never be this hard.
Prayers for the lonely. You aren’t forgotten.
Love from Appalachia,
Amy xoxo
You may not like someone the first time you meet them. Or the second.
Or maybe not even the third.
But eventually they may wear you down, grow on you like a mole. Before you realize it, it’s there, and you never even noticed.
This is how it was for me with Brandi.
I worked with her husband for awhile before I ever met her. She had a bit of a reputation for being brazen and opinionated. And LOUD. She made up for her short stature with volume.
Brandi has narrowed eyes that miss nothing. She talks fast and drives faster. She has an extremely low tolerance for b.s., which is unfortunate because she’s surrounded with drama. That comes with the territory when raising a teenager, I suppose. She’s smokes to offset the stress.
Anyway, I don’t remember the moment where I decided she was all bark and no bite (when it came to me, anyway. The rest of y’all will have to fend for yourselves). Maybe when she lowered her guard with me when she saw I wasn’t after her husband! Scotty became my “work husband” pretty early on, because I could trust him to not leave me on top of pallet racks or the little office after raising me up with the forklift. He always helped me lift salt bricks (hey, 48# is a lot when it’s over your head!) and whatever else I had a mind to dig out. He was in on several of my little decorating projects over the years. Remember the Jesus gardens? And all my crazy ideas for suspending stuff from the ceilings and walls at Christmas? Scotty is a true friend and a dedicated employee. I love him dearly.
And, like I said, I came to love Brandi.
We formed an alliance one year, solid and strong, and went to the Christmas party locked arm in arm. The husbands rolled their eyes and kept one hand on their weapons. Not because they’d have to draw them, but to make sure we wouldn’t get them! Ha! I’ve written about her daughter, MacKenzie, before. She’s the blonde sparkles who loves leopard print, My Little Ponies, unicorns, and glitter. The one I wrote that was baptized in the river with the powerful picture to accompany it. You remember?
Brandi and I kept in touch after I left Co-op, and we virtual farm together now. Well, we did through Christmas. She’s taking a break while this other is going on, that you’re fixing to read about. We spin together! Two of the unlikeliest of girls getting together to exercise and sweat. We have a great time. She sometimes calls me because she’s one of these people who mistakenly think “it’s too long to text” (looking at you, Tippett!) {Hint: It’s NEVER too long to text} and I will even answer, on occasion. I have also been known to call her. She knows if it’s my smiling face on her screen, odds are it’s my squalling voice she’s going to hear.
Brandi is a good egg. That’s why it’s my pleasure to pray for her and her family.
Lord, you know our hearts. You know what we are going to ask before we even think it. I’m here with a loving and open heart to ask for divine intervention for my friend Brandi. I didn’t ever think about you being a real estate agent! But she needs her house sold quickly and the new one built just as fast. Her whole family has moved in with her aunt and I don’t need to tell you what a trial that is. Although she is thankful they have someplace warm, safe, and close to stay, it is a burden to impose on anyone. There are several peoples’ schedules to work around and a dog to keep an eye on, as well. I thank you for her aunt, who has lovingly taken them in and provides them a soft place to lay their heads and all the other things she willingly gives them. I thank you for potential buyers and friends and family that spread the word of their house that has so many new improvements. I thank you for Brandi’s hands that prepare meals and change diapers and wash laundry and dishes, and Scotty for being a provider through his work at the Co-op where he is always hard after it with a positive attitude. I thank you for his strong back and arms that are able to sling straw and load feed, seed, and fertilizer all day in order to support his family. I’m proud to count this couple among my closest and dearest friends. I pray that during construction of their new home (close to me!) that the workers will stay safe and alert and build a strong, secure dwelling. I also pray for the weather to cooperate and be conducive to building. I pray that you are foremost in their marriage and as their children and grandchildren grow up you are at the front of their lives as well, directing and leading them on the path of your choosing. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
The sun was shining, I’d worked on my feet for eight hours for the first time in nearly three years, and my friend was asking me to fast alcohol.
I decided I’d rather drink beer and do without my pillow.
I’m dumb, in case you didn’t already know.
But I had my few beers and turned in. Turned in to a flat bed. 
I sighed and slept surprisingly well. Not soundly; I woke up a few times, confused as to how I’d lost all three of my pillows. But then I would remember drowsily, about my promise and say another quick prayer about blocks and brick and concrete and fall back asleep. I had a few weird dreams and when I woke up this morning I had taken a wad of comforter and fashioned it into a makeshift pillow underneath my head. I hope that’s not cheating because I don’t care to repeat this night. I have a heard enough time sleeping as it is. But I rested fairly well, considering.
I’m just giving a little bit of sacrifice these days. One gave all.
And that’s why we remember.
Love from Appalachia,
Amy xoxo
A long time ago, I lived on Sugarloaf Mountain. On Sugarloaf Mountain, I had many things: time on my hands, a
Alene was a fellow bookworm and we would trade paperbacks as frequently as we traded recipes. She started me some flowers and we would take them eggs. She was like another mother to me, so warm and inviting. They had a pond and many summer afternoons you could find me there feeding their catfish…or catching them. I walked with Alene around her yard as she pointed out various flowers and where they had come from. She had beautiful, thick, clematis vines climbing up her carport. It was a quiet life for a
Flash forward twelve years. I had worked with Alene in the 911 building until she retired, and I moved off the mountain, back home. I ran into Donnie and Alene at the funeral home (that’s where I see everybody!) and I learned that they, too, had moved. It was so good to see them and catch up! I hugged their necks off.
The next time I saw Donnie he was with his daughter-in-law at the fair. I kept catching his eye but it was like he didn’t recognize me. Which was entirely possible because I had on my big Jackie O sunglasses. We were watching the unveiling of the Lego courthouse and as soon as it was over I rushed up through the crowd and grabbed him. “Are you just gonna ignore me or are you gonna give me a hug?”
“I would honey, but I don’t know who you are.” He looked me dead in the eye.
Now, Donnie has always been a big cut up. He’s the definition of jovial and his eyes just twinkle. He loves to pester and aggravate and joke. He gets tickled and shakes all over like a jellyfish. Which makes me laugh that much harder.
I poked him in the gut. “Very funny. How’s momma?”
He narrowed his eyes slightly. “I’m not kidding, I don’t know who you are.”
My smile faltered. I glanced at Misty. She confirmed it.
“He’s not joking. He doesn’t know you, Amy. He had a stroke a month ago and lost a percentage of his memory.”
“I can’t remember anything after 1978,” Donnie piped up.
I know my mouth had dropped open. I suddenly remembered Alene posting Facebook updates about his stroke but I had evidently missed the part where he had lost his memory. Or maybe I had lost mine. I was so ashamed.
So we stood and talked a minute, and a vague recognition came to his eyes. “Alene told me I would probably see a girl named Amy here tonight, and that we love you.”
I know my eyes welled. I asked him if he remembered Dave, his neighbor of many years, and his son Tyson’s good friend all through school. There was nothing there. He didn’t even remember his own son. At this point I was afraid of upsetting him worse, and so I bid them farewell, feeling lower than a gully snake’s belly.
The next day I sent a message to Alene, apologizing profusely for any embarrassment I may have caused him or undue stress. She assured me he was getting used to having people run up to him that he didn’t recognize. I promised her that I would pray for his memory to be restored, and strength for her during this trying ordeal.
In January, Donnie had to have another knee replacement. While I understand his memory is quite a bit better, this is still a challenge adapting to this health concern. Most recently Alene has suffered from her second mini-stroke and of course, it is weighing on her mind that she may not be able to care for Donnie in the coming days. He is prone to Sundowners as his disease progresses.
Are you there, God? It’s me, Amy. I’m back again tonight, praying for another soul that is very dear to me. Alene is fretting about taking care of Donnie, her husband of decades. You know all about it, Lord. And you know that Alene has health troubles of her own. Her worries lie with who will be there for Donnie if something happens to her and she can’t provide him with the level of comfort and stability he’s come to expect, and no doubt needs. I ask you to ease her mind,
Alene asked me to include her in my prayers yesterday, and of course I obliged. I asked her what she would like me to fast, and she said I didn’t have to, but of course I do, that’s part of it. She couldn’t think of anything besides IHOP. Ha! Y’all know how I love my IHOP crepes and hash browns. I agreed I would stay out of there for her! Coincidentally, I had eaten there yesterday morning. And strangely enough, with the person who introduced us.
You tell ME God ain’t real.
I didn’t eat taters today, either, because staying out of IHOP was too easy for a real Lent sacrifice. Staying away from french fries, though….well, that’s a different story.
Y’all have a blessed night and Sunday!
Love from Appalachia,
Amy xoxo
And now I’m gonna tell you about Mike’s wife, Cat.
You talk about fun. She’s a NUT. She has frosted hair and an honest-to-God beauty mark. She’s high energy and all giggles and she’s the
I digress. Cathy was always petting me and saying I was the daughter she never had. Of course, I ate up all attention like a mule in a corn crib, so that was just fine with me. She tells me that even now, every time I see her. I have never doubted Cathy’s love for me. And I hope she’s never doubted my love for her.
As I mentioned before, she had a son that I spent a lot of time
Anyway. I was busy living my life and hadn’t seen Mikey, Cat, or Jason in many moons, and Aunt Bren was working out of town for many years and like everything else, out of sight, out of mind.
I don’t know what happened. I have never asked. But I imagine it’s the same sad story of so many people. 8-80, blind, crippled, or crazy= opiate addiction. I have no idea if this is true, it’s only what I believe. But Jason is gone. Not physically, he’s still drifting along out there somewhere and I would like to believe he could still be saved. It weighs heavy on Cathy’s mind, and you know how when God works on your heart it’s pretty much all you can think about. I can help a little, maybe. I’m up to two answered prayers already from these posts, which seems pretty
Lord, I come to you with a heavy heart tonight. I’ve spent most of the day thinking about my lost friends. There are several. But I want to pray especially for one, the boy I used to know. How does someone drift so far that they’re lost from you, lost from their momma, lost from the world? No matter how far gone you get, you can always go home. You always have a home in Jesus. And I bet you would always have a home at your momma’s if you at least try. I want to pray for Jason particularly tonight, that he
I wouldn’t wish addiction on my worst enemy. Primarily because of the grief and disbelief their loved ones carry. It makes them another person entirely. They will hug you but be stealing you blind with their other hand for their next fix. AGAIN, LET ME STRESS, I DO NOT KNOW if this is what happened. I’m speculating and opiate addiction is so common here.
I had to give up wine today, which was no big deal. I had my one allotment of coke from the brain scrambler machine at Firehouse and all is well. Not much to talk about there. And I’m going to bed!!! These late nights have taken their toll on me.
Love from Appalachia,
Amy xoxo
I just thought giving up sugar was hard. Or dairy.
Those are child’s play compared with forcing yourself to go the speed limit. This is virtually impossible. Or maybe it’s just me?
Did you know the speed limit on Old Knoxville Highway is THIRTY?!?! Did you know that through the curves it’s TWENTY FIVE??? And downtown is TWENTY?!? Maggie doesn’t even idle that slow!! I do twenty in my driveway!!!
I had to pull over on Boyds Creek this morning to let traffic pass. I refuse to be one of those people making everybody late for work. NOBODY drives the speed limit. I’ve held the opinion for many years that the speed limits need to be increased. That opinion was reinforced this morning. Old Knoxville Highway speed limits seem a bit severe. I mean, I get that it’s narrow and windy, but TWENTY FIVE?!? Maybe if you’re in a box van or a delivery truck, but for the average
Lunch was another challenge. Rubbin’s racin’ on 66. But I think I obeyed the law. I tried, anyway. I had other things to worry about. Like all the tourists on spring break craning their necks to get a peek at Dolly or maybe the nearest moonshine distillery.
Luckily, I had board tonight so by the time I got out the traffic had died down and I was fortunate enough to get behind a vehicle on Chapman that was also interested in going the speed limit. Something tells me they probably weren’t doin’ it for the Lord, though. Probably more concerned about getting pulled over for a variety of automobile offenses that I noted while following.
Or perhaps they’d eaten some fancy brownies.
At any rate, it was a relief to get home.
I tried to concentrate on my prayer as much as I fixated on my speed, but it didn’t work that way. It was a real battle of will to hold it firmly in the law abiding range. And if I accidentally went over, I paid penance by going under for the same amount of time or distance. I’m taking Lent very seriously. It’s a serious matter. And probably somewhat entertaining to most of you. That’s good. Glad y’all are benefiting from my misery!
My protagonist today is a man I’ve known my whole entire life. I was placed on his motorcycle for a photo before I was ever able to walk. No, I don’t know if it was a Harley. It was black, it had chrome. I can envision the picture, but I can’t recall the memory. If you were to meet him, I would introduce him as “Mike, one of Uncle Dale’s best friends. He’s from Union County but he’s been to GUAM!!! And helped put out a fire!!!”
And then I would tell you this story:
I don’t KNOW what Mike was doing in Guam. Maybe he was with the military, but that doesn’t seem right. If it wasn’t eleven o’clock I would text him and ask him but at this point, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, he heard tale of a fire on the island. Being a good ol’ country boy, he wanted to help. Being from the sticks of Tennessee, he was virtually incoherent to the natives of Guam as he shouted at them: “How far’s the fire?”
They looked at him wildly.
Because it sounded like this: “How fer’s the far?”
Looks of incomprehension.
So of course, as we all do, he increased his volume, if not his enunciation. “How
Nothing, of course. Come to find out they thought he was asking about some furry creature, not the hot blazes engulfing buildings.
Anyway, it’s better to hear him tell it.
Like I said, Mike hails from Union County, which as most of us know is as poor and rugged as Cocke County without the high profile. I think they just shoot you up there and let the buzzards pick you and everybody’s super tight lipped and protecting their neighbor and their goal is just to fly low under the radar. If Mike were to talk to you very long, you would hear about his family first and the man his daddy shot out of the apple tree next. I’ll tell you about his family. I might tell you about the man who got shot if you’re nice.
“My daddy was a preacher. My grandfather was a preacher. His daddy, my great-grandfather, was a preacher. One of my Dad’s brothers made a preacher. Another uncle was a gospel singer. So was my mom, and my daddy too, when he wasn’t preachin’. Two of my brothers sang, too.
“And then there was me.”
***Big smile***
So when I asked him what to fast for him, his answer was, “Whatever you don’t want to do.”
So he gets it. He knows the purpose. His daddy probably made him go without shoes for these 40 days .
Mike is A-ok. But that’s a funny way of putting it. Mike wears overalls, has red hair (well, he used to, anyway), and has a gap between his front teeth he can whistle through. He used to drive a big hulking black Chevy pickup. Once upon a time it had a white seal on the dash that he gave to me when I was little. His wife’s name is Cathy, or Cat, whom I will be writing about in the future. They had a son named Jason, who was my age. We played war with sticks in the yard many a time and hung out in his swimming pool. I have many fond memories of staying at their house when I was growing up. They had a cactus by the front door as tall as the ceiling. They once had a chow dog named Thunder that came from Uncle Dale. It was a half-brother to my chow-chow.
Anyway. “You remember I told you my daddy was a preacher?” {You would nod here}. “Well, he shot a man.” {Your eyes would bulge}. “You know how turkeys get quiet at night?” {You may or may not know this but nod quickly so you can get to the good part} “Well, we had a pen of turkeys and one evening we were eating supper and they started making the awfullest racket there ever was. Daddy jumped up, and saw a man in the pen trying to catch one to steal it! He grabbed his gun that stayed propped up by the back door, went out on the stoop, racked it and fired in the air. And a man fell out of the apple tree!” {At this point you would gasp. Very dramatic.} “Turns out the man in the tree was serving as lookout and when Dad fired the shot in the air, he hit him. They took him to the vet down the road that worked on people, too, and that was all that was ever said about it. We never had any trouble with people stealing after that, though.”
Really, you should hear Mike tell it. He has a certain je ne sais quoi. No, that’s not a typo. Lookit up.
Down to business. Mike’s prayer was simple, but heartfelt. His hope is that all cancer would be cured. Wouldn’t that be nice? Personally, I believe it’s already possible but you gotta have the means to pay for it. And I know proton therapy is growing by leaps and bounds. But, oh, to be completely healed! If only it were as easy as taking a round of shots or a series of pills for ten days like you do for poison ivy. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?
So I come to you tonight with a loving heart and praising tongue to ask you to for a cure. Some mix of all natural sources to kill cancer at the first cell. Some compound that will kill it to the root, to stop it from ever reoccurring. You know how billions of people suffer and worry and most assuredly die from this disease. You can heal them, Lord. I believe it. You give us hope when there is no more, strength when we are too tired to go on, and faith that we can help others through their trials. You are the ultimate healer and giver and provider. Provide us this, Lord. Give the scientists and doctors the knowledge of what to use for that potion to save us all. For we are told in Isaiah 53:5: But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.
We are promised fruitful heaven on the other side, Lord, rubies in our crown and streets of gold. We who know you know this. But cancer eats us slowly, takes our abilities one at a time at an agonizing price. Would you show us your mercy once more? We need a cure. We need your help. We are pleading for permanent remission from this terrible disease. I thank you for all the blessings you bestow on us, I thank you for my lifetime friendship in Mike and all the times he makes us all laugh. He’s jolly good, Lord. Please hold him and protect him and let him know he is loved. In Jesus’ name.
I know this is near and dear to almost everyone. I can’t think of a single soul who hasn’t had a personal scare, or lost someone very close to them. It’s as common as clover and has to be one of the most heart wrenching things to watch kill your loved one. It never takes the mind first. It destroys everything else it can for maximum suffering. It hides. It’s a chameleon. It’s Satan, straight up. I’m praying for two people currently that are holding their breath, waiting to hear. Nasty business.
I hope that someday
Love from Appalachia,
Amy xoxo
Funny how when you have your own agenda for the way things are supposed to go nothing pans out, you are met with a million obstacles, and you feel like you’re just spinnin’ your wheels. But when you put the
And so it goes for me today.
I’ve been behind since I woke up. I honestly applied my makeup at work today. Speaking of that, I need to go get all my palettes and assorted arsenal of brushes from my bag, lest I find myself in the same boat in the morning (highly likely). ‘Scuse me.
Ok, I’m back. While I realize
Alright. So I’m a pretty sorry Lent-er today. I’ve cussed, I’ve dwelt on stuff out of my control, I’ve rushed headlong into things, I’ve been short tempered and an actual pain in the ass to several people today. Worst of all, I’ve not prayed like I should have, like I promised I would.
Hey, y’all are my confessional. This may as well be my diary most days. I don’t keep much to myself.
And so today I would like to introduce you to my friend, Diane. A few of you know her from the library. She’s one of those ladies you can just tell are cool. Like, she looks like she’d be a really good cook. But not in the traditional sense. Like, the funky kind who makes Asian Fusion or Cuban food on a Wednesday as a sort of celebration for surviving half the work week. Her voice is sweet, like a songbird. She is always heading up Friends of the Library events and sends the most cheerful, energetic, informative emails. She reminds me a lot of my Aunt Bren. I feel like to know her is to love her. She doesn’t draw attention to herself in the slightest, but she’s always there with a smile and a warm hug. I look for her always.
So it astonished me when I got a message from her yesterday all but gushing her surprise and heartfelt joy that I was willing to pray for her. Of course I was! Why wouldn’t I be? She stated I was only the second person in her life to offer to do that. Not just this week. EVER. This is a lady who regularly attends church, and I imagine always has. She’s even a prayer warrior in her church! What does that say about us as Christians if we can’t pray for our good friends, or ask them what specific prayers they have? I pray for my girls daily, along with our leaders, soldiers, and lost souls, but I don’t ask them what I should pray for every day. I’m hoping this is the case with those closest to Diane. Even so, I am adding her to my “dailies”.
Miss Diane would like for me to pray that she could always see people the way God does. You know, all the good parts. I’m the WORST at judging people, so maybe she should just compare herself to me and she’d feel a whole lot better about herself! And I’ve never seen her be anything less than incredibly kind to anybody, but if she thinks there’s room for improvement, who am I to stand in the way?
Lord, I come to you (late) this evening to pray especially for another soul dear to me. I am so fortunate that I can call on you at any time for anything and you hear my prayers. You answered a big one for Rhonda just today! There are no coincidences, it is only through your grace that we are blessed. Tonight I ask for intercession for my dear friend Diane. She believes she can grow in your image and expand her heart to love equally and compassionately, and spread grace wherever she goes. I say “she believes” because I think she’s a fine example of a loving Christian, but she wants to be a brighter light, a lighthouse on the rocky shores of life. Place people in her orbit that need love, wisdom, and encouragement, Lord, and use her as your messenger and beacon for those suffering and struggling. I thank you for Diane and people like her for their selflessness and willingness to grow in your holy spirit. I pray that her children and grandchildren will always know how she strives to be the very best she can be, from her spiritual life that she walks with you, to an advocate for the library! I pray that they be as eager to please you and help those in need as she does. I pray for protection as she spreads your word, and may it always be received with ears that long to listen and hands to do good work. I pray for her family to support her and love her as she loves them, and her church family to step up as well. I thank you for placing her in my life, and always having a smile just for me. I bless your Holy name. Amen.
Of course, when Diane gave me her Lent request, it was something to benefit me, to build me up. Because she’s that way. Thinking of ways to help others. Like I need a bigger head. Me and my ego barely fit through the door as it is.
She asked me to list the ways I have been brave in my life. She said she doesn’t know me that well, but she believes I’m “one of the most courageous people I’ve ever met”.
I laughed out loud.
I told her she’d see that I’m actually a bit of a weenie. A guy I dated eons ago called me an oat
I’m racking my brain. Of course, my mind goes first to horses. I will ride anything. ANYTHING. Mom has pictures of me on some Olympian Percherons somewhere. I’ve ridden mules, thoroughbreds off the track, crazy Arabs, wide-eyed Saddlebreds, green Quarter Horse colts, padded Morgans bareback, and the worst: Appaloosas. They’re big and dumb, with the exception of my friend Jeannie’s. (“He’s alright….for an Ap” 😉 love you girl!) My uncle always put me on whatever nag he’d just acquired at the sale barn “to get a handle on ‘im”, which is code for “ride the buck out”. One of the biggest compliments I ever got (I’ve told this story a million times, but humor me once more) was when I was taking a Horsemanship class at Walters State. The owners of the stable had pulled this Arab out from pasture where he’d been living the high life for like, two years or something. A virtual eternity. One of the cowboys (looking at you Greg Miller, if you’re here, which I highly doubt. Maybe Elise is, though) rode him a few laps and brought him back around and dismounted. The instructor kinda cocked her eyebrow and was like, “Well, what do you think? Can we put the advanced class on him?”
Greg
And that was that.
I’m not scared, they’re just horses. Worst case, they’ll throw you. It’s not the end of the world.
Hmm. I guess I’m brave for leaving a job I excelled at for thirteen years. Or maybe I’m dumb for staying that long. But I held my own against some of the snarliest people in the county. I stood up to contractors and highly educated men when it came to killing weeds, planting grass, and taking care of their animals. Red would say, “You beat all I’ve ever seen. You’ll tell them what they asked for, they’ll try to argue with you, and you’ll just rear back and say, ‘well, you do whatchu want to.'”
And I said, “And what to they do?”
“What you told them to do in the first place.”
That’s right. I heard several men mumble to their friend/ coworker/ family as they walked away, “I told you not to argue with her!”
Co-op definitely built character.
I guess I’m brave for quitting that time, throwing caution to the wind that my family would ever speak to me again, and running across the country with the rodeo cowboy. Looking back, that was….bold. I wouldn’t change it, though. I sure did get to see a lot of beautiful country, God’s creation of deserts, rocky beaches, snow in June, the Grand Canyon, and where the deer and the antelope play. I rode a four-wheeler alone for miles on over 10,000 acres. I slept in a haunted house and branded cattle. I peed in the middle of a frozen Nebraska road in the middle of the day because there was no store for miles. I shot a .338. I saw one of the last original One Armed Bandit performances at the Sisters
I’ve kicked cheating men out of my life; I’ve watched my dog be put to sleep. I’ve lost my Grandmother, my Dad, and many friends and extended family. You just have to keep on trucking. I’ve hiked eight miles in the
I’ve walked the streets of Vegas and San Antonio alone in the middle of the night. Stupidity? Maybe. I also rode the roller coaster on top of one of those hotels on the strip, alone. I’ve ridden many a roller coaster alone. I’ve done all my best stuff alone.
I was the first one in my family to go to college and get a degree (only an associates, but still). I drew a gun on what I thought was an intruder, but it was just Johnny coming back for his phone.
I’ve put up hay in the middle of August when there wasn’t a breeze to be bought. I’ve pulled calves and doctored horses crazy with rage and fear. I’ve
I’ve spent my life in glasses and with a head full of impossibly curly hair. That just sets you up for attacks. Buck up.
I have faith that things will just work
King James Version (KJV)
I’ve exposed my heart to a few. Men and women alike will kick your teeth in on that one.
I pour my guts out here for y’all to read almost every day. We’re supposed to keep our relationship with God a private matter, but that seems a little Presbyterian. What if I’m the only Bible some people ever read? (Lord help you!!!)
There’s a fine line between being brave and being stupid. And if you’re gonna be stupid, you better be tough. I don’t know if John Wayne or John Grisham said that, but whoever did was wise indeed.
God gave me the sense to protect myself and stay aware. Be compassionate, but don’t be a sucker. Be loyal, but don’t be a fool. Listen, but believe none of what you hear and half of what you see.
Thank you, Diane, for reminding me. Thank you for doing me the honor of letting me pray for you.
Lent. Finding blessings at every turn when you go looking for them.
Pray for us sinners.
Love from Appalachia,
Amy xoxo
Lent is a time to reflect, take stock, and straighten up and fly right with the Lord.
And that’s why it’s so hard.
I mean, it’s really difficult to keep your thoughts pure and true and centered. It’s almost impossible not to worry and not to care what people think. It’s a struggle to love unconditionally and not judge.
But oh, the benefits when you lay your head down at night and realize you did a decent job and you’re proud of yourself for trying so hard. And when you’ve spent the day in prayer for someone you love, just wrapping them in blessings and well wishes you feel so content and snuggly. Have you ever been prayed for like that? Where someone prays out loud for you, whether they’re physically with you, with their arms around you, or when they’re on the phone and they’re actively asking favor from the Lord to almost crush you with his spirit and love and you just feel warm and cozy and like every cell, crevice, and follicle of your body is being wholly enveloped and taken care of?
I highly recommend it.
I’m not that good of a prayer-giver, but that’s what I’m striving to do. I want y’all to know how much I appreciate and care for you! I want you to know I’m in your corner and want the very best for you.
And I want this bird to quit knocking itself out on my window. I mean, how many times do you have to bounce off glass to realize you’re only hurting yourself? I know birds don’t have any idea of what they look like (except maybe crows, they’re really smart) so when they see their reflection they can’t figure it out. But come on, man! The headache should be your first clue.
I met Angela a little over a year ago at the fencing company. She called after being referred by my sweet friend, Christy (yes, my hairdresser. Christy is fully integrated in my life, even if I don’t talk about her much. She’s kinda bashful). Angela and her husband were moving to Seymour and needed a fence for their three dogs.
I didn’t need a new friend, or so I thought.
We always need new friends, according to what I’ve since learned.
Angela is a jewel. A peach. A crafty, witty, exuberant, bubbly package of fun that I’m proud to call my friend. She’s also frequently my lunch date, so if you see me out, that’s who I’m usually partaking in the joy of beef alongside. She always knows what to say, and when to say it, and it amazes me that someone can be so in tune with me after such a short time. Am I really that predictable? No. She’s just that gifted. And she has gifted me with her friendship….and quilt…and sinful baked goodies…
So it is my pleasure to pray for her today. She asks that her focus be to pleasing the Lord with her thoughts and works, and not look to others for self worth. She only wants to be concerned with what the Lord thinks of her, not others. Personally, I thought she did a good job of this, she seems to have confidence in spades, but I guess I don’t know her as well as she knows me. Not to say she’s weird or anything like that! No! Just that she goes about doing her own thing, maybe a little against the tide. For instance, she raises ducks and wears pigtails. In my circle, this is completely acceptable. But my circle is a little different than the circle she hails from. It seems to be her true calling. So maybe that’s it. Maybe she feels a little ostracized from the people she used to know and that’s where her prayers come from? I don’t know. I’m just here to pray.
So, Lord, I come to you today on behalf of my deserving friend Angela. I pray as she goes forward that she is driven by thoughts of gratifying you. Direct her actions so that others will know she lives a life of stewardship to you, and that we should all strive to do the same. Cloak her with your comfort, so that her intentions remain true no matter what obstacles she encounters and ridicule she may face from those who wish to destroy her purpose. May she turn loose of whatever she’s holding that makes her feel she can’t be honest with her true self. May those who antagonize her not be a burden, may she feel as lightweight and free as the eagles in the sky. I pray that she will expose her light fully, and let go of whatever it is she carries. May we all encourage her in this transformation as she looks within herself, and to you, for affirmation. Thank you for blessing me with her friendship, and thank you for her many gifts she shares with us all. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Angela has tasked me with telling myself how special I am every time I look in the mirror today. So, unlike the bird, I won’t be whacking my head into the glass and feeling dazed, I’ll just be talking to myself. I do that all the time, anyway, so this isn’t much of a stretch.
You is kind, you is smart, you is IMPORTANT. ~The Help
That was the first thing I said to myself this morning as I picked out my socks. I had gone to some trouble avoiding the mirror until my brain woke up and had a few wise words in reserve. So what if I stole ’em? I brushed my teeth, telling myself how fortunate I am to be able to get up in a warm house, put on clothes, find something to eat, and have a good job to go to.
When I went to put on makeup, I decided it wasn’t worth the mirror time and my focus should be on my insides today, so I forwent the warpaint. Other than mascara. I just can’t face the day without a little something on my eyelashes. And I didn’t think about my hair. I just knotted it up. Yes, I DO occasionally try to do something with it! I know that surprises some of you, judging by what it looks like most of the time. Bite me. You try having curly hair for 40 years. Eventually, around year 25, you just surrender. It’s not that important.
As I’ve caught my reflection at different times today, I start with a smile, which made me feel a little goofy the first few times. Then I remember Angela. I say a quick reaffirmation prayer for her. And I say something to me: how my brain is quick, how my words are sure, how distinctly different I am for being able to write so that it touches others’ souls. (I know I touch you!! You tell me and I cry!!!) I tell myself I make a significant difference in so many people’s lives (again, I know this because people tell me). It gets harder to find something new that doesn’t have anything to do with my appearance every time I go to the mirror. It is unavoidable at work. I can’t just avert my eyes when I go in the restroom. This last time I told myself I was strong. I can’t be thankful for my forgiving nature, because that part of me needs definite work. Y’all can pray for me in that aspect, if you feel led to do so. See? I don’t even want to ask for it because I’m so stubborn and want to stay mad. That’s not good. I guess I could avoid the mirror, but that defeats the purpose and I don’t ever want somebody saying I shirked work.
I am worthy.
It wasn’t my fault.
I am entertaining.
I pee a lot. Shouldn’t have had that coffee.
Dear Beth asked me to remember that I see wonderful things in others that they think no one notices. This surprised me. I think your qualities are front and center and unavoidable! Maybe people notice and are afraid to say so.
So maybe that’s it. Maybe we should always tell each other how much we care for and appreciate another being, that way they can tell it to themselves so they can believe it. Maybe that’s part of why some people commit suicide, they think they don’t matter enough to anyone else. I, myself, could never live with the guilt of leaving those behind that would question if they could have done more. Southern Guilt will getcha every time.
I am special, God made me to serve some purpose.
I looked at myself in the mirror by accident while I was waiting for my gas tank to fill and had to come up with another’n. I am resilient. Nothing has killed me this far.
I am empathetic.
I am true.
I am loud and proud.
I won’t bore you with any further comments on my character but this will go on until midnight.
I hope you will take time for yourself to stand still a moment today. It’s almost spring; listen for the birds. Look for things blooming and trees budding and the shock of green. It happens overnight. Find something God made to be thankful for. If nothing else, be glad for your eyes to see it, or your ears to hear it, and legs to stand on to appreciate it. Breathe in. Close your eyes. Stretch your arms up. Breathe out….and open your eyes to see if anybody’s caught you. If they’re staring, smile great big and wave. Because what they think doesn’t matter. And you’re showing them you’re happy with your gift of being alive. Maybe you’ll meet a new friend in this fashion.
We can all use one more.
Love from Appalachia,
Amy xoxo
