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
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
