Like The First Time....Again

Twice last week, I was given the opportunity to see the ocean for the first time....again. I do not remember when I actually saw the beach the first time. I know that I was 4 or 5 years old because I have seen the grainy black and white pictures from that trip. It is fairly obvious from the pictures of me on an inner tube, floating in the ocean, bawling my eyes out, that I was scared to death of the water. I also remember my older brothers telling me that at night the barracudas came up on the beach and would eat any people they found. Is it any wonder that I have tried to put most of my memories of that trip out of my mind? The next time I had the opportunity to see the ocean was when I was a junior in high school, and was invited on a family vacation with my friend Becky, her parents, and sisters. They were a second family to me, and I remember how excited they were for me to see the beach. Certainly, no one could have imagined that I would love it like I do. I do have memories of that first time again, as Mr. Leech drove down the beach in the car, and I thought that was about the most amazing thing I had ever seen. Much to Mr. Lincoln's dismay, I remembered that little cruise, for when he and I arrived in Daytona on our honeymoon after driving all day from Chattanooga in July in an un-airconditioned car, I begged him to drive down the beach before checking into our hotel/motel. He was not pleased, but he relented. It was a couple days later that we got the car stuck in the sand. He has never been a lover of sand, and when I gunned the motor spraying both Mr. Lincoln and the nice man who offered to help us, his enjoyment of the gritty substance did not improve. Many times since then I have been to the ocean. I am certain that I saw it for the first time again when my children first visited the beach, but I do not remember. Probably, I was too busy making sure they had on sunscreen, did not go out too far, and all the other things about which a mother worries. So, last week I saw its wonders twice for the first time again. First was when Simeon arrived. We walked down to the beach, and he was watching everything and everybody. He was not thrilled with the water beating against his legs, and clung to his Fizzler (Mr. Lincoln) for dear life. While he never grew to love being in the ocean, he did learn to love the beach. He was my little sidekick several mornings as we walked down the beach to watch the sunrise. A couple days, we watched the sunrise and the sunset together. Each one was like the first time again for me. Then, Max arrived. We eagerly traipsed down to the seashore to see how he would like it. He met it with his usual enthusiasm, mouth wide open, stomping his little feet in the surf. He was pretty mesmerized by the foam and gentle crashing of the waves. Ah, the first time again. How lucky am I? It is not often that we get to have a life experience for the first time again and again. I live in gratitude for those opportunities. So, as I listen through the window to the wind blowing through the palm trees and the ocean in its relentless return to the shore, I wish you wonderful first times again, and I wish you Blessings

Maybe You Had to be There

After a day of Mr. Lincoln sitting at the pool picking up all the scuttle butt of the condo, and my sitting by the gulf reading and listening to Wilson Pickett on my I-Pod, we decided that we would catch the sunset. Because our lodging is on the east end of an island that has a dog leg, we have to travel a bit west in order to really see the sun set. Our favorite spot for viewing the close of the day is on Captiva, so we quickly dressed and headed to the next island. Sadly, our estimation of sunset occurring sometime after 6:00 was off by a few minutes. We now know that the sun sets sometime BEFORE 6:00. So, as the day reached its spectacular denouement, we were driving without even a peek of its beauty. It also means that Mr. Lincoln did not get to make the sizzling sound similar to water hitting a hot skillet that he always makes when the sun seemingly drops into the ocean. We moved on undaunted looking for a place for dinner. While Mr. Lincoln can eat his weight in butter, and I can eat mine in sugar, food, for the most part, just doesn't hold that much fascination for us which can make picking a dinner spot either very easy or very difficult. Last night was fairly easy. We were on a short, narrow street on Captiva Island where there are several restaurants. We discussed the possibility of one, but I remembered that it is pretty pricey, so we chose to eat outside at the less expensive one across the street. Our waiter was an extraordinarily friendly sort who reminded me of a full-sized Tyrion from The Game of Thrones. He told us to sit anywhere, and Mr. Lincoln chose a table back in the corner. Thank goodness he did. About the time we were seated, a guitarist began to prepare to play for our dining pleasure on a small stage set up in a corner across the patio from us. In the meantime across this narrow street a saxophonist was beginning his set on the patio of the pricey restaurant. One would expect on a patio in a restaurant on an island a man with a guitar and baseball cap would probably play a little Jimmy Buffett or some similar type music. While I am not exactly sure what genre was being played, I am fairly certain it was not Jimmy Buffett, Bob Marley nor any other recognizable music. It was quite frenetic, no catchy tunes, sounding quite a bit like a fellow in his den practicing his scales....very rapidly. In the meantime, the saxophonist must have been having an extremely hard day as the mournful tones of his saxophone traveled across the street to assail our ears. It was a manic/depressive cacophony of non-island music. Our guitarist also fancied himself a comedian in the vein of Mitch Hedburg and proceeded to explain why a 12-string guitar is called a 12- string guitar (it has 12 strings; ba-dum-bum), and what the difference is between a 6-string guitar and a 12 -string guitar (6 strings). For those who know us, it will come as no surprise that Mr. Lincoln and I got really tickled, and not at the comedy. No one else in the entire restaurant seemed to see the humor, but at one point, I was in danger of spewing lobster bisque out my nose. It was that wheezy laugh that comes only when we are really tickled, and it is not appropriate to just let out a belly laugh. That is one of the joys of "marriage maintenance;" the mutual appreciation of the humor in life that perhaps others do not see....or maybe it is not really there and we just have warped senses of humor. I don't really know. It does not really matter. We left our island restaurant after a delicious meal, went to the grocery and bought sweets for dessert, rented Looper, sat (or slept) through the first 90 minutes of it, realized that neither of us understood nor were enjoying it, and called it a day. We need our energy to hold down those chairs at the beach and pool. So, for today, I wish you an island kind of joy, and I wish you Blessings I am typing this on an I- Pad,and find that sometimes blogs written here do have paragraph breaks, and sometimes not. I figure it is the operator who is causing the problem, I just do not know how to remedy it. So, I apologize. A blog with no paragraph breaks can be quite tedious to read.

Marriage Maintenance

Mr. Lincoln and I are on our annual "marriage maintenance" (thanks to my friend, Clark, for the terminology) trip to the beach. We will celebrate our 39th anniversary this year, and we have tried to take some little trip each year. I am beyond grateful that it has become a couple weeks together at the beach, followed by our children (and grandchildren...I love saying that) joining us. This would not be possible if Mr. Lincoln were not so self-disciplined in making the plans. He makes all the arrangements, and all I have to do is pack. I love it! It will not come as a surprise to any one who knows us, we sort of do the same things every year. It has come to our attention, however, that we may have to change grocery stores here. We have always gone to Bailey's, the old store with a long history on the island, but heavens to Betsy, their prices are out of sight. So, we have been checking out the other store. It does not have the feel of Bailey's, but the prices are better. Also, we got a little crazy the other night and ate at a new restaurant. We enjoyed it. But, I digress. If anyone at our condo complex paid any attention, they might be surprised to hear that we call this our "marriage maintenance" trip. Mr. Lincoln does not care for the beach, so he spends his time at the pool while I figure there are pools at home, but there is certainly no ocean. Also, I prefer the sounds of the surf to the inane conversations of the people at the pool. Of course, they are on vacation and do not need to concern themselves with my opinion of their subject matter. Mr. Lincoln will run and bike for miles and miles and miles. I will walk for miles. I will take, literally, hundreds of pictures. Almost every morning I walk on the beach to the lighthouse. I leave at first light so that I can get pictures of the sunrise. This morning it was cloudy, which can produce an extremely interesting sunrise, or obliterate it all together. This morning it seemed that I would not get any good pictures of the sunrise, and I seriously considered leaving my camera behind. I am so glad that I did not, for I saw many wonderful things, several of which reminded me of the significance of "marriage maintenance." As I walked, I came upon an older couple walking arm in arm. He had long white hair flowing out from under his cap. She was bundled up in a parka with the hood over her head. He looked like an old, salty sea captain helping her along so that she did not take a misstep in the soft sand. It was a precious sight to me. I know nothing of their lives except that on a cloudy morning at the beach they were together, and they seemed to be happy. As I continued my walk, I came upon a wedding there on the beach. I can only imagine that the bride chose a Saturday morning at 7:00 am because she wanted a sunrise service. It was not to be, but it did not seem to dampen their spirits. The couple was surrounded by family and friends. She was lovely, and her new husband just looked like the type who would be very content having his wedding on the beach, barefoot, in khakis. No tuxedo for this groom. From afar, as I walked I watched the wedding party bow their heads for a prayer. Apparently, right as I reached them, the minister pronounced them husband and wife, for applause broke out, and I am fairly certain they were not for me. Perhaps, they were for the sun that broke through the clouds right at that moment.....sort of like a visible blessing on their marriage from God. On my return walk, I was actually given the opportunity to congratulate them and wish them much happiness. I hope ever January 5 they will return to the spot of their ceremony and contemplate the joy they felt at that moment. I walked to the point and there saw an osprey bringing food to babies in his nest. Ospreys nest high above the ground, and this one was on a man-made platform. Over and over, he would fly from the nest, get food, and bring it back. After four or so trips, he flew out over the bay, quickly followed by the female bird. I imagined that once the babies had been fed and carefully situated, the parents took a little "marriage maintenance" Saturday morning respite. Ospreys mate for life. They understand the need for a little maintenance. So, for today, I wish you to take time for maintaining all your relationships, and I wish you Blessings

By the sea

Yesterday, I sat by the sea.  It was the perfect day...sunny, warm, with a slightly cool breeze.  I pondered how fortunate I am to be here; how I don't want to take for granted one moment.

As the day waned, I thought about my friend, Nancy Kirksey, who died on Tuesday morning.  I still cannot believe it.  She was a friend with whom I was closer several years ago than I have been in recent years, simply because we did not see each other very often.  I actually ran into her over the holidays, and we stopped and got caught up.  Every time I would see her, we would hug, and I would tell her that she was one of my all time favorite people.  She truly was.

Nancy came from a family of servants.  Her daddy was the candy man at church for years; the first person all the children wanted to see when service was over.  He was the kind of man who searched for opportunities to serve.  Once he and his son were doing construction work at our house, and I came home to find him washing my dirty dishes.  I will never forget him telling me that a man should make enough money to take care of his family and to help others.  He lived that.

Nancy's nephew is, arguably, my son's best friend....another servant.  Jim is who people call when they need a helping hand.  Her niece is a good friend of my daughter's; another niece is one of my favorite young women at church.  Her brother and sister-in-law are people I dearly love.  They are a family of servants.  Nancy was no exception.

She and I, along with several other people who are so important to me, served as craft ladies at church camp.  There was no job that Nancy would not do....always eager to help.  She gave great hugs.  She had a very distinctive voice, somewhat raspy...always welcomed.  In my mind I can hear her laughing.  That is the first thing I thought of when I heard she had died....that her laugh would be greatly missed by all those who love her.  She had beautiful eyes, a winning smile.

Because I am by the sea, I will not be able to be at the visitation today, nor the funeral tomorrow.  Too many times in recent years have I stood in that hallway waiting to offer sincere, yet inadequate condolences to family members.  Too many times in recent months have I expressed to young widowers my sorrow at their loss.  There was a time when I thought funerals to be barbaric, but now I know they are great avenues for finding closure after such a loss.  I would love to give Charlie and Ramona big hugs, and cry with them.

Yesterday, by the sea, I sat in the waning of the day listening to songs of praise and lament, thinking of my friend, Nancy Kirksey, praying comfort and blessing on her husband, daughters, brother, sister, sister-in-law, nieces, nephews and co-workers.......all those who knew, loved, and will miss her.   She will not soon be forgotten.