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Category: The Thankfuls
It’s common practice on Facebook to list what you are thankful for during the month of November. Here’s a collection of my favorites from the years I participated.
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…
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…
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…
A long time ago, I lived on Sugarloaf Mountain. On Sugarloaf Mountain, I had many things: time on my hands, a Saanan goat named Daisy whom I led around like a dog on a purple leash printed with daisies, a very long driveway, and a pair of Watusi cattle named Gus and Clara. I also had excellent neighbors across the ridge named Donnie and Alene. 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 26 year old. I felt like a homesteader, working in my lettuce bed and scattering corn for the wild turkeys. 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…
And now I’m gonna tell you about Mike’s wife, Cat. You talk about fun. She’s a NUT. She has frosted hair and an honest-to-God beauty mark. She’s high energy and all giggles and she’s the pickest eater I’ve ever met. She loves Rod Stewart. That’s where I learned to love him. I think you become an adult and end up listening to whatever kind of music you grew up with for the rest of your life. Nothing will ever beat Michael Jackson for me. I digress. Cathy was always petting me and saying I was the daughter she never had. Of course, I ate up all attention like a mule in a corn crib, so that was just fine with me. She tells me that even now, every time I see her. I have never doubted Cathy’s love for me. And I hope she’s never doubted my love for her. As I mentioned before, she had a son that I spent a lot of time with in my youth. While the adults were inside watching Cheers, we were out exploring the creek and fighting off Indians. We had a great time. But long before we became teenagers, we drifted apart. When you don’t go to the same school it’s hard to stay in touch. And this was long before the days of Facebook and MySpace and…
I just thought giving up sugar was hard. Or dairy. Those are child’s play compared with forcing yourself to go the speed limit. This is virtually impossible. Or maybe it’s just me? Did you know the speed limit on Old Knoxville Highway is THIRTY?!?! Did you know that through the curves it’s TWENTY FIVE??? And downtown is TWENTY?!? Maggie doesn’t even idle that slow!! I do twenty in my driveway!!! I had to pull over on Boyds Creek this morning to let traffic pass. I refuse to be one of those people making everybody late for work. NOBODY drives the speed limit. I’ve held the opinion for many years that the speed limits need to be increased. That opinion was reinforced this morning. Old Knoxville Highway speed limits seem a bit severe. I mean, I get that it’s narrow and windy, but TWENTY FIVE?!? Maybe if you’re in a box van or a delivery truck, but for the average Joe that’s a bit restrictive. Anyway. My opinion. My job is just to follow it. Lunch was another challenge. Rubbin’s racin’ on 66. But I think I obeyed the law. I tried, anyway. I had other things to worry about. Like all the tourists on spring break craning their necks to get a peek at Dolly or maybe the nearest moonshine distillery. Luckily, I had board tonight so by the time I…
Funny how when you have your own agenda for the way things are supposed to go nothing pans out, you are met with a million obstacles, and you feel like you’re just spinnin’ your wheels. But when you put the God driven things back at the top of your priorities list, your shoulders ease, your breathing deepens, and your mind lines back up. And so it goes for me today. I’ve been behind since I woke up. I honestly applied my makeup at work today. Speaking of that, I need to go get all my palettes and assorted arsenal of brushes from my bag, lest I find myself in the same boat in the morning (highly likely). ‘Scuse me. Ok, I’m back. While I realize y’all would have no idea if I stepped away from my keyboard for five minutes or five hours, I feel telling you gives you a sense of personal….whatever. Call me crazy, but may I point out you’re still reading? Alright. So I’m a pretty sorry Lent-er today. I’ve cussed, I’ve dwelt on stuff out of my control, I’ve rushed headlong into things, I’ve been short tempered and an actual pain in the ass to several people today. Worst of all, I’ve not prayed like I should have, like I promised I would. Hey, y’all are my…
Lent is a time to reflect, take stock, and straighten up and fly right with the Lord. And that’s why it’s so hard. I mean, it’s really difficult to keep your thoughts pure and true and centered. It’s almost impossible not to worry and not to care what people think. It’s a struggle to love unconditionally and not judge. But oh, the benefits when you lay your head down at night and realize you did a decent job and you’re proud of yourself for trying so hard. And when you’ve spent the day in prayer for someone you love, just wrapping them in blessings and well wishes you feel so content and snuggly. Have you ever been prayed for like that? Where someone prays out loud for you, whether they’re physically with you, with their arms around you, or when they’re on the phone and they’re actively asking favor from the Lord to almost crush you with his spirit and love and you just feel warm and cozy and like every cell, crevice, and follicle of your body is being wholly enveloped and taken care of? I highly recommend it. I’m not that good of a prayer-giver, but that’s what I’m striving to do. I want y’all to know how much I appreciate and care for you! I want you to…
Y’all are gonna crack up. I’ve really challenged myself today. My dear friend Rhonda, who is the director of our tee-totally fabulous library system, is who I am honoring and praying for especially today. Rhonda and I could not be more different. She has spent her life serving the poor, the needy, and last but not least, her children….who are also poor and needy, come to think of it {looking at you, Miss Caroline!!}. Rhonda is a levelheaded and terrific friend, a wonderful cook and homemaker, a Disney Aficionado, and a stalwart leader of many. She has a ready smile or a cocked eyebrow, depending on the discussion. Baker, Beth, and I are just a little bit scared of her. So anyway. It should surprise no one that her prayer request, first and foremost, was for her children. She has sent them both off to college, and while Logan has completed his degree and returned home safe and sound and created a family of his own, Rhonda worries. There is no end to the worrying. While she dotes on her little princess of a grandchild, she worries about things that are not even in her control (she also thinks about bows, but that’s neither here nor there). Caroline, on the other hand, has gone off into the big dangerous city of Knoxville (insert derisive snort here) and has left Miss Rhonda with a bit of empty nest syndrome. It’s…
Namaste. I’ve had this eye twitch for some time now. It’s really an aggravation. Everybody asks what I’m stressed about, and while I could give you one big reason, it’s not really a reason at all. Time marches on. And as Dolly says, you’ll soon realize it’s marching right across your face. About a year ago, I attended a book signing at my favorite library. Well, that’s a bit of a lie. My favorite library is my personal library here at home, followed by Biltmore’s library. So, my third favorite library. But don’t tell Rhonda!!! I picked my seat next to a friendly looking stranger. I pegged her as a mom, stealing a few hours away from her kids. She seemed intelligent and normal enough. Turns out, I chose wisely, even if I didn’t read her life right. Today, I count her among my three closest friends. It’s amazing how you can bond with people when they’re open and honest and quite literally THERE for you. She is zero drama, 100% no judgment, and so funny I almost pee my pants every time we go out. She looks at me over those red rimmed glasses with her hair back in a knot, like, “Are you shittin’ me, Smalls?” I can quite clearly read her expression through text messages. I know by her pauses…
