this is a page for
Browsing Tag: #blessed
Evidently goals don’t equal priorities. Maybe I should have read through this list a little better before I committed. There I go, jumping in feet first, as usual. #1 Be happy Sometimes this is hard….but only if I compare my life to others’. And sometimes it’s easy….when I compare my life to others’. A double edged sword. I once read somewhere that if we all threw our problems in a pile, and saw what everybody else was dealing with, we’d jerk ours back right quick. I believe this in my heart and soul. #2 Be thankful This is easy. I did 30 Days of Thankfulness on Facebook several years in a row. But just to remember, and list, even if it’s the same things every day, it doesn’t make me any less thankful. I AM thankful for running water and indoor plumbing and my big soft bed and my cozy house and my lovely job and all my friends and family. I AM thankful for the food in my belly and my strong legs and my determination and willpower. I AM thankful to live in this great country and pray when I want to and salute the flag and honor my President and read any book I want. #3 Be Truthful This does not mean I’m gonna go shouting it from the rooftops, but, as always, be careful when asking for my…
I was working on one of those time-wasting questionnaires on Facebook this morning. I need an activity while I drink my coffee, otherwise my dog thinks it’s my job to pet him with my free hand. And I DO pet him, but it’s never enough. He is such an indulged glutton. Anyway, I’m whizzing right along answering the “Adult” questions- no, no, not like that, they were the style of “what bill do you hate the most?” and “which housecleaning chore do you put off until you hate yourself?”, stuff like that. Then one gave me pause. “Found Love Yet?” Well helllll-o. Of course if you live past the age of seventeen you’ve found love. But did love reciprocate? As you grow older, you come to realize that love isn’t just about spending the rest of your days with another human you’ve found attractive. Well, I hope you realize it, anyway. You’ve loved your whole life. You loved your mother, you loved macaroni and cheese, you loved your tire swing, you loved your mangy dog. Whatever. But of course this shallow test didn’t mean that. It meant the “traditional” sense of finding love. Well, sure I found it. And it was reciprocated. And we were bound by vows given in fancy attire in front of our closest 125 friends in the sweltering…
I’ve had a semi-eventful weekend, as far as things go in my hermit life. Friday morning, as usual, found me at IHOP. I love their crepes, what can I say? When I opened the first set of doors, I was greeted by a buggy full of grocery bags stuffed with…well, stuff, I guess. Possessions. Clearly the style favored by the homeless. Seated on the bench, facing the bright sunshine coming in over the tops of the trees, was an old black woman. “Good morning,” I chirped brightly to her. Then I realized she must be the owner of the buggy and bags, and probably had some mental health issues and would not understand me. “Good morning,” she returned clearly. Huh. How bout that? Before I had time to puzzle on her much more, I was led to my table. The thought did cross my mind that if I were a better person I would offer for her to dine with me, but I’m not that brave. When I looked back for her, she and her buggy were gone. The poor waitress was the server for the entire dining room, and looked like I felt most days. She was making laps with drinks, straws, and food. Another girl finally showed up to help and she relaxed a little. I’ve discovered it’s pretty much impossible for me not to eavesdrop at IHOP. I’m by myself…
Have you ever just taken a moment and thought about how fortunate you are? One of those times where the North Star is beaming down directly on you and everyone around smiles your way and for a little while everything seems right in your world? Well, tonight I had such an epiphany. I don’t write about my new work often, partly because there’s not much to write about; I rarely have much interaction with customers. But also I don’t write because I like my job and don’t want to jinx myself. And I guess calling it new after a year and a half is ridiculous, but it’s hard to not think of it that way. When I came onboard, I was unsure. I was scared as a rabbit looking at a pack of coyotes. I didn’t know anybody, I was in a part of town I didn’t frequent, and I was out of my comfort zone working in an office environment. But I didn’t quit, even though I wanted to. I came back every day because I’d made my mind up to, and because it felt like it would be a good gig if I could ever get used to it. I was terrified of the guys, they were all big and kinda scary looking with their tattoos, cigarettes, beards, and low, gravelly voices. They drove trucks that always needed…
I didn’t want to go to work today. Sometimes I have an ominous feeling on the anniversary of September 11th, those are the days I keep my bug out bag within arm’s reach. Sometimes I’m despondent, dwelling on the lives lost starting with this fateful day through the War on Terrorism. And sometimes I’m just mad. Today I was dejected, thinking about how useless it all is. And the hurricane, on top of all that. And yes, it could have been a lot worse, but is that how we’re going to live our lives? It was going to be dreary and wet and cold. So I just wanted to loll in bed and read, and kinda forget the rest of the world existed for one day. In short, I wanted to be selfish. On this day. This day. THIS day. The day when selfishness was banished from society in one of the hardest cities on Earth. When strangers kissed on rooftops, thankful for their lives. When emergency personnel rushed into burning, tumbling buildings just to save one more life, knowing they probably couldn’t save their own. When the President of the United States of America kept reading to kindergarteners after receiving the worst news possible whispered in his ear. So yeah, I could get out of bed. I could do this. And so I drove to work, thinking about people in New York City and Washington 16 years…
For the Mountain People I’ve been whittling on this since the day after. It seems I run a full mill of emotions as I work through it. It’s disjointed and twisty and repetitive but I’m leaving it as it is for now because that’s what it’s been like here-confusing and excessive and unsure. Maybe one day I’ll come back to it and get it right, but for now it will have to be enough to get it out. It’s been seven months and five days since the sun rose and illuminated what remained of Gatlinburg. Seven months and five days later…it is raining. And rain is appropriate. We’ll still take all we can get. Even on the Fourth of July. I say hooray because it will put a damper on fireworks activity. Fireworks start fires. I never TRULY believed that until my days at dispatch. Here’s what happens: It’s high summer, which generally means it’s been fairly dry. People drink all day, out in the sun, then they play with fireworks. They may possibly even hurt their fool selves, or the kids who don’t obey orders to “Get back!” (or maybe the kids were never even warned, or maybe it’s just bad luck). The dogs are barking, or howling, or quivering in the corner. The cattle and horses are…
There’s this wonderful place you can visit. It doesn’t cost a dime. And once there, the places you can go are literally limitless. This magical destination is the library. I know, I know, I’m the biggest nerd. But seriously. So tonight was the board meeting. And it was typical in all aspects, other than our chairman was absent so the meeting was conducted by my lovely friend (and recent partner in crime), Tracy. Things were clicking along, we were approving budgets for consideration of the county, approving fundraisers, discussing projects that are coming up. I reached for my regional report and found it stuck to the glass topped table. No worries. I’m sure it’s just barely tacked on there. I didn’t even have anything sticky on my plate. What is going on? I finally ripped it free, leaving several bits of paper essentially glued to the conference table. The director had to dribble water on it and scrub. I don’t know how I constantly find myself in these clean up positions. I’m like a three year old. Someday I’ll tell y’all about the gallon of Red Cell I dropped at the Co-op. Or the case of Hearty Hoof that I dribbled from one end to the other. Now, see, I am obviously not a prototypical board member. Especially one you would picture on the local library board. I’…
Board meetings, on the whole, are notoriously boring. And I hate to admit it, but the library is no exception…matters of a civil nature tend to be a bit dry. As I prepared for the one this evening, I tried not to dread it. I tried not to think of the things I needed to be doing that were More Important. Because, truly, I typically find my role as a public servant meaningful. As I headed out the door of my workplace, I called off-handedly, “I’m off to save Sevier County…one book at a time.” At the time I did not realize how fortuitous my words would be. First of all, we led with a prayer, which was wonderful and I had been thinking about that the whole way there. I had been wondering why we didn’t every time, but thought it might be against some rule since we’re a public meeting. But I thought today, of all days, we could certainly use one. So thank you Mr. Sarten! It’s like you read my mind. We’re taking care of regular business and in the agenda under new business is the innocuous heading “Recommendation by director to waive any fees for services for fire victims until further notice” This seems pretty obvious, as they can’t very well bring back a book that is no longer a tangible item. But this…
My news feed is chock full of support, up to the minute info on where to help out, what needs still need met, and blessings from afar. I have a friend who is frantically planting trees and brainstorming ways to get them out when it’s time. I have friends planning agendas for the months to come to keep victim’s needs met. If you are told a certain place needs volunteers and you get there only to be turned away, I beg you to be persistent. Things change constantly. You should be able to look for yourself and see what needs done. Take out the trash. Put a bottle of water in somebody’s hand if they look a little parched. (You’ll probably need to open it for them. If they’ve been working with their hands, they will appreciate the gesture. Trust me on this one.) I believe we’re all doing the best we can and our adrenaline is wearing out and it’s just plain exhausting. Give them a prayer if you can. It’s impossible to have a plan for something of this caliber. If your news feed is filled with people bickering, complaining, and bitterness then perhaps you should reevaluate your friends. And if you can do nothing else~if you can’t find the willpower to pray~please spread the word that the county, the National Park, and the city of Pigeon Forge…
I have lots of things to say about yesterday. I plan to open a blog today to get it all out of me, & will share the link as soon as I have it. For now, it will have to be enough for me to say that the outpouring of generosity from ALL OVER AMERICA is something special. I moved chicken cages with a local friend, Donna Parton, a teenager from Georgia, & two guys from Knoxville. One of them had a broken arm but he was still helping. I moved hay that was donated by a man from Jamestown with one of my old co-workers. His wife has manned the fairgrounds tirelessly since the county made the decision to open it to displaced animals. Thank you David Majors for answering my tears & pleading with a MUCH NEEDED fork machine. And Gary was a welcome sight. Thank you Co-op. It’s good to know people in the right places. Thank you Leanne Anke for taking the evacuated horses back to their home on your day off. Thanks to the businesses who are donating their people, their products, & their dollars towards this catastrophic incident. Food City had sent a tractor trailer full yesterday, Borden Dairy another, & I didn’t catch the names of several others in & out. I spoke with a gentleman at the Rescue Squad that Lisega (the new factory on Dumplin Valley Road in Kodak) had sent on their…
