It’s been said there are two varieties of people that tell the truth: drunk people and little kids. While that’s true, I know someone else who tells the truth, and she ain’t drunk and she ain’t little.
It’s Barb.
Some of you know Barb. She spent more years at the Co-op than I did, and it’s only people with Very Thick Skin that can endure a decade + in that place.
I don’t even know where to start.
I guess I should introduce you since you might not know her. She’s tall, with skinny little
Once, after she’d retired, we met up for a girl’s day out. We went to Wasabi’s on Bearden Hill and then tried to decide what to do. It was such a nice day, we hated to be running around indoors shopping, and Barb said, “Hey! I know! I’m gonna take you to Grainger County!” So off we went. We hit every pig trail off Rutledge Pike and I saw lots of beautiful 
Funny thing. That day I was participating in another kind of challenge: a writing challenge. It was day 20 and I was tasked with putting my music player on shuffle and write about the first three songs that played. Well, it’s ironic because what Barb picked for my sacrifice was to not listen to the radio while driving.
I ALWAYS listen to the radio while driving. Well, maybe not the radio, but
I think another reason we get along famously is
But a couple of years ago, Barb got some Really Bad News. Yes, it was cancer. But she remained optimistic throughout the surgery and chemo and all the treatments she had to endure. She was hopeful, as one must be when fighting.
But just when she thought she was out of the woods, it came back.
And again she fought, more determined this time to really see it through.
And once again, it has returned. And once again she fights with this bright light and same ol’ Barb smile while her husband and son watch and worry.
Barb ain’t worried.
Barb’s got the faith of a million mustard seeds.
This is just a minor setback, interfering with her plans to go eat seafood at RB’s on Shem Creek, and reading till two o’clock in the morning. It’s aggravating, yes, but she’s not letting it get her down. Too many things to do and see. So now she goes to Vanderbilt to see the best of the best and get this taken care of once and for all. Barb’s got a might-as-well-be-grandchild on the way. Barb’s got a Sunday school class to teach. Her best buddy from the Co-op just retired too, and they need to get out and about. Barb’s gotta go, go, GO.
Lord. Come on. It’s Barb. BARB. You know Barb, she’s
Bless the Lord, O my soul;
And all that is within me, bless His holy name!
2 Bless the Lord, O my soul,
And forget not all His benefits:
3 Who forgives all your iniquities,
Who heals all your diseases,
4 Who redeems your life from destruction,
Who crowns you with lovingkindness and tender mercies,
5 Who satisfies your mouth with good things,
So that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.
I ask these things in Jesus’ name, Amen.
You know how when you’re driving down the highway and a police officer pulls out after you and you start worrying even though you weren’t speeding and you know your tags are in date and your lights work? And you can scarcely breathe for watching him and running all the scenarios through your mind? And if he does pull you over, you know it’ll be okay because you’ve done nothing wrong.
So join me in praying on behalf of this very special lady, who always made the Co-op feel like home to me. She let me cry on her shoulder one of my first days there when this lady really let me have it for not knowing what layer pellets were. Me and her and Robin piled up in the 1960’s era paneled one toilet bathroom and cried till we laughed and laughed till we cried. Y’all remember that? I do. She was in full throttle when it came to my wedding plans, and always up for a lunch date. We still have many more adventures to come, crepes to eat, and I know I haven’t heard all her stories about growing up in Grainger County. Get well soon, Barb. I’ve got a sunroof and a full tank of gas.
I didn’t stop for a doughnut this morning. I didn’t go out for lunch. I won’t be picking up barbeque for supper.
No, I’m not on a literal fast today (talk about making me HANGRY) but I’m not buying anything. Zip. Zilch. Nada. No nothin’.
I’m out of eyeliner. Too bad. Should have popped by Belk yesterday. I would sure like a slice of cookie cake. Oh well. Good thing I don’t need gas, ’cause I guess I’d be begging y’all for a ride to and fro. No using Uber. No books from the online retailer I use with frequency. No new socks or body wash or any number of vital items. Granted, I’m only fasting for one day, so it’s no big deal, but it does make one conscious of all the things we buy. Maybe that will be my thing next year:
Who picked this for me? Somebody that knows me well- myself. I’ve been in prayer for Christy, my friend of nearly twenty years, the Christy who does my hair. She couldn’t think of anything and told me to pick something that I would benefit from. I chose this sacrifice, because Christy is frugal and thinks through every single purchase she makes. Unlike me. I need to be more like her. Or maybe I should just give her my checks and my bills and let her control my finances. She’d probably rather enjoy that. After she got over the heart attack from seeing what I spend, that is.
Anyway, Christy’s request was simple. She merely wants her transition from the space she leases for her business to her new location to be a smooth one. I don’t have much experience with moving, unless you count the Co-op renovation, but I get that things could easily get out of whack quick fast and in a hurry.
Lord, some days are harder than others. Sometimes I feel like I get further
It’s a
It’s not often I get to write about Christy and I wish I felt comfortable taking the liberty to tell more tonight, but it’s been a long day for yours truly and let’s just say I wish I was climbing into her chair tomorrow morning for a
Love from Appalachia,
Amy xoxo
I once had a job where it seemed nothing I did was right. Even if it had been right that morning, by afternoon it was wrong. And it wasn’t just me that was wrong, it was all of us. But it wasn’t our fault. Our boss was under a lot of pressure and it affected his reasoning ability. We loved him anyway, because he had one of our best interests at heart- a job to depend on. But that was a little hard to remember on occasion when you’re racking your brain wondering what you could have done differently.
It was during this time I met someone whom I came to depend on for my own sanity. She was easy to talk to, she understood seemingly all aspects of my life. She constantly told me it wasn’t my fault, just to roll on. Rock steady. So I would.
This gal had experienced her share of being misunderstood. For her part, she’s nearly covered in tattoos, head to foot. People judge. So when she opened her mouth to reprimand her son in the store instead of just letting him run rampant, it gave people pause 🙂 She’s the sweetest soul you can imagine; she has a soft spot for creatures. Especially her old pug Herman. She has a gorgeous, elegant, long-haired, grey-tipped cat named Shakespeare. She has a weakness for beer and tacos, and to counteract that, she has a running habit. She’s Steven Tyler’s biggest fan. We share a mutual love for yoga, lilies, and Guns-n-Roses.
Today is for Roxy.
Lord, I thank you for this girl who has a bone-deep understanding of the trials and tribulations that just come from living life. I am better for knowing her. I ask that you keep her mind clear and her nerves placated during this time her husband will be incapacitated from his surgery. I pray that she doesn’t lose her temper or become distant or feel underappreciated. I pray that her husband recovers quickly, with little pain. I also ask that her son have a desire in his heart to help out as much as he can. Let these six weeks draw them together, Lord, and show appreciation and love like no time before. May they find many laughs and a closer relationship to one another and you. May their hearts grow as they give and receive care, and a nurturing aspect blooms. I ask that she continue to be a non-judgmental listener for all those who know her, and give her the wisdom to guide them on the right path. Thank you for her loving heart, Lord, and may she always be empathetic to all those in plight. We praise you for her growing family, may they be blessed and go forward showing love to everyone whose paths they cross. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
When I asked her to pick something for me to abstain from, I told her this was her chance to be cruel. Sweet girl said she would never be cruel to me. She wanted me to fast thoughts that it was my fault. You might not think I ever think things are my fault, but I do have a little bit of brain devoted to rethinking my words and actions. They say it takes two to tango but sometimes decisions are made so far from left field it’s hard to wrap your head around how it came about, never mind how you could play a part in something so completely devastating. And so I’m not investing any more energy into racking my brain about it. Furthermore, it’s not worth it. The worst part is adjusting to a new normal after having my mind made up it was going to be completely different. That’s what hurts. That’s what is completely terrifying. But I’ve never backed down from a challenge, and I won’t start now. Go on. Say “I dare you.” It’s never turned out well for the daring party. I’ve got fire in my eyes and stars in my soul, and Heaven help the ones who cross me nowadays.
It’s hard to know someone. Especially when they’re not honest with themselves.
So here’s to the power we all have within us, vested by the Lord. I only have to believe something better awaits me around the corner, down the road, or maybe I’ll have to wait for the other side. But things are already much improved. I count my blessings every day. And y’all are among them. And that means you especially, Roxy.
Love, GeorgeAnn
You ever had something happen and maybe it was so earth shattering you didn’t fully comprehend it until days or weeks later? Maybe even months or years? Like, someone dying and you just kinda coasted along for
My sacrifice today was candy. That’s not a huge sacrifice for me, as I’m only tempted by potato candy, peanut M&Ms, and Rolos, and none of those were in my immediate proximity today. And breathing sugar all day has a way of turning you against it. Did I tell y’all I had purple boogers last week?
PURPLE.
Job hazard, I reckon.
Do you think we meet people by accident? Or do you think we’re all exactly where we’re supposed to be at all times? I don’t know, but I’m glad I met this one. Fellow redhead, fellow fashionista, fellow dog mom, with a tell-it-like-it-is attitude. Don’t waste my time or my money kind of gal. Best interests at
I pray this evening for this sweet girl’s health. She’s fought some battles, Lord, more than most of us at this age. I pray for complete healing of her stomach especially, as well as any other concerns that arise. May she be able to partake in any foods without it upsetting her system. (Feel free to keep any
I will stress again, if you want me to pray for you, just send me a message. I don’t check the email to my blog often, but I can be reached on Facebook messenger. I don’t have to use your name if that’s what you’re concerned about. I don’t even have to know you personally. It is our God-given duty to pray for one another. And it is my pleasure.
Good night and God bless,
Love from Appalachia, Amy xoxo
Not everything that happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, thank God. Some people you meet there and you get the privilege of staying their friend forever and ever. And you can’t understand how it’s possible to have so much in common with someone you’d never met and that you primarily communicate with via text and Facebook.
Jill and I both have curly hair and penchant for citing Steel Magnolias at every opportunity. We know our Co-op stuff (aaaalllll the stuff) forward and back, even though neither of us are employed by them any longer. We have an unhealthy obsession for M&Ms, and a wanderlust attitude. If you are all of these things, you can join our club after a thorough vetting process.
Jill has tasked me with thinking no negative thoughts. It’s been on my mind since I woke up. So I’ve spent the day with my (typically hidden) optimistic attitude. Good thing I didn’t have my checkbook and receipts here, I would be breaking Lent for sure! I’ve been avoiding Facebook for the most part, as well. It’s hard for me not to criticize. I worked in the yard a little bit but was better off in the kitchen, where I have a better chance of living up to my standards. I’ve set a low goal of pulling staples from the hardwood floor of the back bedroom closet where I took the carpet up. It makes me feel empowered prying them out….till one is holding on like a hair in a biscuit. Then I grit my teeth and bear down…or go to the next one.
Positive thoughts, positive thoughts…
My kitchen is so dated…But at least I have one.
My dog is very well behaved.
Don’t think about doing laundry as a chore, think of it as exercise since I get to go up and down stairs.
I can arrange my library any which way I want.
What I’ve found with this practice is that when I’m focused on positive, I tend to get a wee bit sarcastic. Like, I’m dreading dusting. But I can’t think like that. I’m supposed to think: when I get through dusting I can read my book. But no. When I get through dusting, I will find something else that needs to be done. I can look forward to eating some lemon creme cake, but the fact of the matter is, it’s full of sugar and will no doubt contribute to my ever-thickening waistline, which, in turn, will drive me on in spin class like the hounds of hell are nipping at my feet.
Which I dread.
Or holding a hard yoga pose, forcing myself to contort in a manner in which I simply am unable to fold. It’s a vicious cycle. I don’t think of myself as negative, I try to laugh most everything off and say we only get to go around once. But putting a positive spin on everything? It’s humbling. And so often I think, “I am so blessed.”
Turns out, even if you are positive about things, bad things still happen. For instance, I LOVE Lonesome Dove. But Gus will still die. I can be an optimist, or I can be a realist. It is inevitable that we will have bad news in our lives. Surprises. Things happen that are out of our control. But, this too shall pass. And that’s always good news.
So I’m praying for my sweet Jill today. She teaches me what it’s like to be human. She keeps it real all the time, staying busy with homeschooling her kids and working on her farm. As if that isn’t enough, she’s all the time making pieces with her embroidery machine to sell at local boutiques and craft fairs. That’s on top of helping out at the dance studio and a million other things I can’t even keep up with. She sends me these texts and I’m like, “what in the devil are you talking about?” and we have to go back two months and catch up.
Lord, I’m happy to be here speaking with you tonight. I’m thankful for this beautiful spring day with no rain. I thank you for the tasty pork chop I consumed earlier. Bless the hands that raised the pig and grew the beans. I want to speak a word of intercession for my friend Jill. She’s struggling with all her roles that come with being a mom. I want her to know what a wonderful job she does. I want to remind her that we’re on your
*And you should know that I’ve had Steel Magnolias on the duration of this post. Shelby,
Slow ride….take it easy.
No, it isn’t another must obey the speed limit challenge, I just had vague instructions to enjoy the scenery and stay out of the fast lane. Easy enough, as there isn’t much of a fast lane on my commute these days. But I decided to take the back-est back roads on my way home. Comin’ in…well, that isn’t much of an option, as I’m runnin’ like a scalded dog to get there on time.
Today, I’m praying for the one I affectionately dubbed “Number Three” years ago, because it was determined she was one of my three favorite people. I haven’t seen her in a few years, but she’s still right up there. She’s a fellow Co-op person, and we share the same snarky attitude and sick sense of humor. We used to joke that we needed a morning show…except we really weren’t joking. It’s a shame we never got to see what would happen if I let a mousetrap snap on my finger. If anybody has performed this particular dare, please enlighten me. I’m still curious.
I can’t decide what my favorite memory is of us, but I like to remember all of our wicked dreams of exacting revenge. But I suppose we’ve grown up since then, as she has a family and I have a job where they randomly perform background checks 🙂
I hadn’t really made my mind up about Ashley when she first started working. I couldn’t decide if she was after my job or if she was just a hard worker. She liked all of my departments and took to dusting and rearranging with my blessing. If she wanted to be my minion, so be it. She was welcome to the headaches. She came from Dixie, desiring a job with regular hours and not quite so dangerous. She was pretty showy, with her long blonde hair and perfect makeup and blowsy attitude. I was the closest person in age to her, so we started feeling each other out. I was trying to be cautious- she just looked like one of those super bitchy girls who would be out to cut my throat at the first opportunity.
But one day, she began talking about her life back home in Yankeeland. She told me about her parent’s divorce. She spoke of her brother, and how she’d put hair ties around his wrists as a code to remember which bus to get on. It nearly broke my heart, picturing her taking care of him. Our fate was sealed. She was a good egg, and a sweet big sister.
It wasn’t long before she had me coerced into mani-pedi dates and then she trusted me with the big secret when she found out she was expecting. (Good thing, too, because I had to run her wet paper towels a few mornings as she holed up in the bathroom).
So Ashley has asked me to pray for her brother and his week old baby. Being a mother, her mind is prone to worrying and she knows her brother needs all the help he can get. The trinity-Strength, Wisdom, and Courage. I understand that her brother has had a rough time in the past but has been clean for a year. And so she’s hoping that this baby will be the cement that he needs to solidify his best life.
Sometimes I don’t know how to start a prayer that feels authentic, so I’ll just jump right in. Ashley and I never needed a precursor to our talks, so I assume it’s not necessary with the Almighty, either. God, you know our hearts. Unfortunately you know our mouths, too, and our minds. Hopefully it’s our hearts that carry the most weight.
I want to speak some prayers for my friend Ashley, whom I believe is as strong as they come. And I mean that literally as well as figuratively, because she gave birth to her boys
Update: about an hour before I began this post, Ashley spoke with her brother who reported that little Peyton’s tests had all came back good. They are still waiting on one last one, though, but prospects are looking good!
Life in the slow lane….surely make you lose your mind…that’s why I drove back roads. I opened my sunroof and my heart and put on some jazzy blue Lucinda Williams and I coasted.
I didn’t think I’d see much that I haven’t seen already. I used to drive this route regularly about a year ago. But turns out they’ve installed a new stop sign on this little back road, and a songbird sat atop it. Then there were some chickens in the road, but not at the usual chickens-in-the-road place. There were no dogs in the road today, either, which is a good thing. But there were some vultures dining on some
Yes, I enjoyed my little journey. It took awhile longer to get home, but that was okay. It’s good to see what’s around, good to have an alternate path. It’s good to have friends to remind you that the best track isn’t always the fastest one.
I was the girl who found the genie in the bottle a few years ago. You probably read about me, or heaven forbid, saw me on TV. I’m not much to look at, what with my unruly hair and more-to-love waistline. And yeah, my spectacles and the prominent nose they perch upon. My ears stick out.
I should use the past tense. I was all those things. All that has changed now, and my looks change invariably. With every little thought in my head, actually. It’s hard to get things just right and sometimes I revert back to my old look, that God gave me, because it’s so exhausting being things other than what I am. I sometimes wish back to my old life, too, but it’s a double edged sword. I bounce around because it’s impossible to be content when you know things can be better…or at least different.
I was fishing, is how it happened. I thought I’d found an urn of somebody’s kin they no longer wanted to be responsible for that they cast out. Maybe a long dead relative they had no memory of. I could understand, I don’t want no bad ju-ju, myself. I was rubbing the goop off the side to see if there was any engraving and out pops this dude who looked like Cheech of Cheech and Chong. It was clear I’d woken him up.
“‘Sup?” he says to me, like it’s every day a stranger materializes in the middle of the lake on my boat from a brass urn. “Got anything to eat?”
I couldn’t recover enough to speak, but I’ve never denied anybody food and wordlessly handed over a pack of Nabs.
“So, here’s the deal. Let’s do it fast, I’ve not got all day to hang out, I’m in the middle of a very important brokering deal in Spain. You’ve heard the drill-three wishes, anything you want. Like I said, let’s make it snappy.”
I didn’t like his attitude.
“Can I trade Genies?”
His eyes narrowed. “Hey, lady, beggars can’t be choosers.”
“Well, you’ve got a piss-poor attitude and this should be the happiest day of my life.”
He forcefully brightened his expression. “Better?”
“No, now you just look fake.” His teeth were yellow. He dropped the smile. “Can we just get on with it?”
“What’s your problem, anyway. You should be glad I got you off the bottom of the lake. You were covered in slime!”
He lit a cigarette, produced from the pocket of the greasy jeans he wore. “Don’t you think it suits me?” He tilted his head back and puffed out a smoke ring.I had to admit his filthy former home looked exactly like where he would come from.
“Alright. I wish to always have enough money for whatever I desire.” I’d read a joke once about somebody wishing for that and magically had the money -down to the last cent- every time they reached in their pocket. That would be easier than having a bank account and reporting everything to the IRS. …..how was that gonna work, anyway?
He nodded in a matter of fact way. “Done.”
“How do I know you’re legit?”
“You got a lot of men suddenly appearing in your life wanting to grant you wishes?”
“If you only knew, brother,” I rolled my eyes.
“That’s why you’re out here fishing….alone?”
“Hey, I need time to myself!”
“Mm-hmm. Next!”
“I wish to die peacefully.”
“Good one. Smart girl. And your final wish?”
“For as many wishes as I want from now on.”
At this, he cursed and threw his cigarette down, followed by his beanie that had clearly seen better days.
“You really wanna be tied with me for the duration?”
“I think you need a friend.”
“Listen, lady, I got plenty of friends.”
“And now I have a servant.” I smirked.
It was in this way I came ashore with the wish-granting hippie, toting his own urn (he called it ‘home’ whenever I sniffed at it disdainfully) and wading up the bank to go get my jeep with the boat trailer. I wouldn’t let him snap his fingers and do his witchy magic till I knew more about it. Plus, what if somebody saw and called the cops? I needed to figure this out.
We were tooling down the interstate, wind whipping around us eliminating some of the fish smell when this smartass in a BMW came up on my tail and swerved over at the last minute like he was weaving through Atlanta traffic. We were the only ones in a 100 yards. “It’d serve you right to get pulled over right up here,” I thought aloud. Then a second thought occurred to me. I could ensure that. So I simply wished a state trooper into existence at the next overpass when they went whizzing by at about a hundred and five.
I smiled serenely as I passed them by.
The Genie looked over at me.
“Good girl,” he muttered.
“So what’s your name?” I asked him.
He looked the other way. “My friends call me Smoke.”
“But I’m not your friend.”
“You can call me Smoke, too,” he said quickly. too quickly. I had struck a nerve.
“What is it???” I coaxed in a sing-songy voice. “Or should I just say I wish you would tell me?”
“Gene,” he replied.
I barked with laughter. “You’re kidding. Gene the Genie??? That’s rich.”
He was not amused. I wondered what he had done to deserve such a fate.
We pulled up to my modest house. I took the place in thoughtfully. I’d been meaning to pressure wash the siding and weed the flowerbeds but if I could have anything I wanted…..
Sha-zam!
A big ol’ grand Greek Revival house on a river in South Carolina, set behind a half-mile long driveway shaded by live oaks dripping with Spanish moss and a fancy iron gate at the road. I was uptown, figuratively. Literally, I was in the Lowcountry. At last. I sighed contently and breathed in the pluff mud aroma and felt I had finally came home.
Gene the Genie leaned against the board fence. “Nice,” he said drily, blowing smoke out his nose.
“And what would you want?” I was feeling haughty and defensive.
He shrugged. “Hollywood, maybe? Dubai?”
I was to learn that Gene could have wishes granted, too, but he was content with his life. “I see a lot of places,” he told me. “But the people are all the same.” That made me sad.
I managed to keep my secret for two whole days. Then the reporters came a’knockin’. Turns out you can’t just go buy a giraffe with cash. There are permits and licenses. A whole bunch of invasive paperwork. So that’s where I went wrong. With the procurement of an exotic animal. But it was gonna happen sooner or later- crews were scheduled to begin construction of my private roller coaster next week.
You see, I don’t like crowds. Before, this had been a problem. Because I like a lot of the same things everybody else likes. But I don’t want to enjoy them with a bunch of sweaty strangers. My problem is no longer a problem. I can now afford to have concerts where I am the only one in attendance. Or football games. Or beaches or restaurants or any kind of event. No more waiting in lines to buy anything, or get in somewhere. I think this may just be my favorite part.
But I really DO have to be careful what I wish for. With the blink of an eye, I can have everything I dreamed of-literally. But it’s a hard habit to break, saying “I wish”. I’ve brought Clark Gable and Michael Jackson back from the dead to have supper with me. I’ve caused fleas to invade my ex-husband’s life for all eternity. It’s better than a voodoo doll, you can infiltrate anything you want. I try to use my powers for good, I signed an agreement to that effect with the UN, but every now and then I sneak. I can’t help myself! I had a hard time explaining how a former first lady bit the dust.
It also gets tiresome, merely thinking something into existence. As for Gene, he’s content as long as I keep him fortified with greasy food and beer. He likes the cheap beer, too, which we agree on. No matter how much money you have, if you liked Mich Ultra in your poor years, you’ll like Mich Ultra in your rich years. I never developed a taste for caviar or the minimalist interior design. I still prefer antiques and all my crap on full display.
I sure do have a lot more crap nowadays. Everybody I know does. And they’re all on these perpetual vacations. After I saw what I wanted to, fizzing around from one ancient castle to another, I just wanted to be home with my dogs.
But I’ve found I miss competition. And what little patience I had for waiting for something to happen. I miss the time frame it normally takes to grow flowers and food to cook. I’ve found that you can literally wish your life away.
I can repeat this life, fine tuning it, and keep everybody I love the same age. I can have any friends I want, any husband, anything. I can eat whatever and never gain an ounce. And if I do, and I decide I like the plumper version of me, I merely close my eyes and resize everything in my closest. I have the softest bed, the coolest cars, the highest-jumping horses. I have it ALL. But what I most long for is to go back to the simple way my life was. So I do, but I have no patience for the real world and end up reverting back to my magical life.
So one day, I wished it all away.
Gene was having his morning smoke when I asked him about it. In his typical nonchalant way, he shrugged. “As you wish.”
He vaporized.
I felt, rather than watched, my world jerk. It was like when the lights flicker, you feel like you lost a second in the flash.
I was back in my kitchen with the dated linoleum, with my mason jar of tea sweating on the counter. I had plans to go fishing, but at the last minute I decided I would go lay in my hammock under the maple tree and read instead.
Probably be safer. I wasn’t taking any chances.
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
