Good in the World

Mr. L is out of town.  We talk a couple times a day so I can hear about his running 10 miles in the Orlando heat and humidity and he can hear about my getting my 10,000 steps walking laps in my air-conditioned house.  We all do life differently.  We also discuss those most amazing creatures known as grandchildren. I think he got a bit teary when I sent him pictures of our grandsons receiving their kindergarten Bibles in church yesterday.

Shortly after one conversation, he called and asked if I had heard about one of my dearest friends.  I said that I had not. He briefly explained what had happened. He sent me the email he had received which had a fuller explanation.  I was stunned.

As the wife of one of the leaders at my church, I have a rule I try to follow.  If I learn something through any source other than a church wide email, I keep it to myself.  That way, I avoid the very appearance of gossip.  Upon reading this email about my friend, I immediately broke my rule and called another precious friend and explained. We both agreed, this was not gossip.  We shared our dismay and agreed to call one another if we heard any more.

So, what happened?  My friend was car-jacked, in a parking lot at the school where she teaches, at 11:00 pm.  I try to tell her that nothing good happens after dark, but she's a night owl, not a morning person.  She had been working on a bulletin board for her classroom with the moniker, "believe there is good in the world." In her words, quite ironic.  As she got in her car, she received a text from her daughter and pulled over to text that she was going to be driving and could no longer text. She heard a tapping on her window and looked up to see a young man with "a big grin" on his face and a gun in his hand.  He told her to get out of the car.  She reached over to get her purse off the passenger seat, when a second young man with a gun told her she would not be taking her purse with her.  She did, however, apparently take a mug with her that was in the car. Go figure.  A third fellow walked up and they told her, "run, lady, run."  She did.

As she explained all this to me, she said, "I am so glad they did not kill me.  It would have ruined their lives."  Folks, that is good in the world.  That is empathy for the plight of misguided young men without the sense to know what far-reaching consequences their actions can have.  Oh, they robbed my friend of her money and her car and her credit cards and her keys, but they did not take anything of real value from her.  They did not touch her spirit or kindness or empathy or concern.  They claimed a victim of sorts, but they have no idea what they have wrought, for they now have a fierce believer, fervently praying for them.  I sense lives are about to be changed.

Today I wish you feelings of gratitude for that which could have been but is not.  I know that I am very grateful that my friend, Betsy is safe. Pray with me that three boys come to understand that they chose the right person to rob.  They don't know it yet, but they have a prayer warrior dogging their every move.  I hope they are caught.  I hope they get the opportunity to look her in the eye, and be moved by the mercy they will see there.  It is a day to celebrate. Truly, there is good in the world.

Happiness Rediscovered

His wife died.  She was not just his wife.  She was his childhood sweetheart, his sister's best friend, another daughter to his mother.  She died in childbirth.  Her first child, a girl.  Instead of a joyful homecoming and a life together as mother and father, he came home as a single dad with a fragile baby girl.

His sister moved in with him.  Her heart was broken, but she set herself aside and became aunt and mom to that sweet baby girl.  We barely knew them.  When I heard, I asked my church family to pray...to pray and cook. That's what we church folks do; we pray and we cook. I remember taking more food than his freezer would hold; some sort of sustenance for the body as his spirit was starving for the lost dream.  

I met his mom for lunch a couple times, and his sister.  Beautiful women, both heartsick for their own loss, which was compounded by pain for their son and brother; extreme anguish for their granddaughter and niece.  But, his sister's life could not stay on hold.  She married and had children of her own.

As life will have it, that baby is no longer a baby.  She is around 9 or 10 now, I think.  A precious girl as seen in FB posts.  He learned how to fix hair and cook and create joyful occasions for his daughter.  His life devoted to her and to his work, for he is an extremely creative man who needs to create.

FB has its problems, but sometimes it brings wonderful welcome news.  News that would not have been sent to me, personally.  I am so far on the periphery of these lives, but I care deeply about them and love to see their pictures and hear their stories.

Today, I learned he is getting married to a beautiful woman; one his family loves dearly.  The smile on his face in the pictures brought me such delight.

I pray they will be happy.  I pray that if they want children they are given that gift, and that they, together, get to raise them along with that precious little girl.  I would never call her motherless, for she has a mother; one that could not be present from day to day, but one whose very life gave her life and personality and looks.  Now, she has two mothers, one present and one who will always be part of her.

I love when those who have been in the deepest of grief rediscover pure happiness.

Congratulations, David

A Cruel Master

Sunday, my story for the 3rd and 4th graders at church was Daniel in the Lions' Den.  It is a well-known story, but as happens when reading the Bible, I find myself filtering the story through my present lens.

Daniel found himself in the lions' den because of others' jealousy.  The description of the other satraps, prefects, and government officials who were threatened by Daniel's hard work, honesty, and recognition is heartbreaking.  They were so busy trying to dig up dirt on Daniel that they could not concentrate on their own responsibilities.  So, they lied, they connived, they tricked the King with flattery, they found themselves "looking through the window" to catch Daniel breaking the law, they tattled, and they ended up devoured.  Jealousy is a cruel master.

It seems that jealous people sometimes have an invested interest in the failure of others.  Those people who are closest to them are the ones most often targeted.  Instead of getting up and striving to improve their own situations, if they are not happy, they devise ways to bring down others.  Sometimes, like Daniel's nemeses, those who seek to bring down others do it with intention.  It is a well-devised plan.  More often, however, I believe, if confronted, a jealous person would be stunned that you thought them so.

We all know people like this.  We all are people like this in certain situations.  You know who I mean; those who quietly sabotage someone who is working hard to lose weight, or quit drinking, or exercise more, or study hard to pass a test, or remove sugar from diets, or excel at their jobs, etc.  The list is endless.  What does it say about me if my old running buddies grow up and change their lives and I don't?

There is a song by Rascal Flatts that was very popular several years ago.  It is entitled "I'm Moving On."  One stanza speaks of this to me: "I've lived in this place and I know all the faces.  Each one is different but they're always the same.  They mean no harm but it's time that I face it, They'll never allow me to change...."  Those who refuse to allow others to change are devoured in their own misery.  I have such admiration for those, and I know several, who refuse to allow those who would hold them back to....well, hold them back.  They are moving on, living the lives they were intended, regardless of who would have it otherwise.

I started this blog a few days ago.  Each morning I receive a quote, more like a devotional, from The Frederick Buechner Center.  A passage from yesterday says, "Your life and my life flow into each other as wave flows into wave, and unless there is peace and joy and freedom for you, there can be no real peace or joy or freedom for me."  I love that.  I believe it to be true.  I do not want to be "looking through the window" hoping to trip others up.  I want to be in the room cheering them on.

Wishing you a day rejoicing in the good fortune of all those with whom you might compare yourself. Let us not be devoured by jealousy, that cruelest of all masters.

'Til Death Do Us Part

She has Alzheimer's.  He takes care of her.  She knows she has Alzheimer's and is sometimes apologetic for that which she cannot remember.  Sometimes I forget and ask if she has plans for the day; for Mother's Day or Easter. She will seem puzzled, eyes looking up and left as if somewhere up there is the answer to my question.  After a moment or two, she will flash her beautiful, sweet smile and say, "I don't know." Sometimes, she will forget where she laid her purse or will seem a bit lost looking for him.

They have hard days at times.  I know this because he is honest and admits it.  I cannot imagine the sadness of watching the recognition of all that which is familiar leaving the eyes of a person one loves so dearly.  How difficult it must be to lose the sharing of memories.

She dresses beautifully.  She has a red sequined top that sparkles in the sunlight.  I always tell her that I like it because I do, but mainly because I see it as a symbol of her sparkling personality.  Often, she can be seen wearing a necklace that has a beautiful rendering of her grandchildren on it.  It is reminiscent of antique, hand-painted broaches.  Will there be a day that she looks at that necklace and wonders just who those children are?

He is quick to laugh, and unmercifully teases me when I am, yet again, sitting on the pew in front of him on Birthday Sunday taking pictures of my grandchildren.  I grew up with teasing brothers, and I consider it a sign of great affection when someone is comfortable enough to good-naturedly tease another.

They are always early to church.  They are always together.

This past week, they were greeting at a side door which made it necessary for them to come in after the service had begun.  They walked down the aisle, side-by-side, to the front as the congregation sang a beautiful song.  Both of them tall with majestic bearing.  The passing of time has not obscured the handsome groom and the beautiful bride who walked together down a different aisle many years ago.  They had no way of knowing, none of us does, what "'til death do us part" meant in that moment of young love and youthful optimism.  It is so inspiring, in this world of me and mine and doing what feels good and grasping for everything that can be grasped, to watch this quiet, loving keeping of vows; 'til death do us part.

People Along My Way

I work in Downtown Nashville; the "it" city. It is crowded. Construction sites are everywhere. Unfamiliar faces abound. But, then there are those oh, so familiar faces that I see every day.

Reggie is a favorite. He is from New York. He wears beautiful suits complete with colorful pocket squares with flip flops. He is fast to laugh and when he is really tickled, he puts his fist up to his mouth. He is married and calls his wife "Upper Management."  He says it with humor, and I am always interested on Monday mornings to hear what Upper Management has required of him over the weekend. Every morning he searches me out to give me a hug and gallantly asks, "how's m'lady this morning?"  The fragrance of his cologne lingers when he leaves. He is my son's age. He is in school getting a degree in accounting. He has two daughters, one grown, one at Harpeth Hall. Reggie is taking a new job. After May 23, I won't be seeing him. I will miss him.

Paulino is an enigma. Some mornings he just grunts at me. Some mornings, he will come sit and chat while I wait for my tour group to arrive. There was a time when about every fourth or fifth word he said was the "F" word, but I have noticed that he has tempered that. He is from Guatemala. He is a hard worker with myriad skills. He always has on an LSU sweatshirt in cooler weather months. I have never seen him in a hurry. His wife has a big job; his children are brilliant and accomplished, and he is very proud of them. He comes across as a grumpy guy, but he has a heart of gold. The other day he handed me a rubber band....for no apparent reason. Reggie laughed, and I jokingly told Paulino that I would cherish it. In a way, it wasn't a joke. Oh, I don't still have the rubber band, but I have the memory of Paulino joking around with me. It was the rare occasion when he did not seem burdened with the day ahead of him. He still gets upset with me because I don't tell the children that the "Yankees came down here and stole our women and our land."  I think I won't get historical information from Paulino. He told me not too long ago that he was going to retire. I will miss him.

Chad is The Contributor seller I see every morning. He is always faithfully at his spot, eager to share with me any new stories in the paper, especially if they pertain to celebrities who have been interviewed. Often when I ask how he is doing, he will reply, "I am really tired."  I don't think he gets good rest at The Mission or the other places he goes for the night. One day this week, he asked if I like chocolate. Of course, I told him yes. He had a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup that a rep of the candy company had given him. According to Chad, this particular version of the candy is not sold in stores yet. Chad handed me the candy bar that had been tucked inside his shirt. He suggested that I open it and take one of the cups. I asked if he was sure he wanted to share it or would he rather save it for himself later. He sincerely wanted me to have it and it occurred to me that in his economic situation, he probably has very little opportunity to give something to another. So, I took it, I ate it. Later, I found Chad and encouraged him to tell the candy rep that those Reese's Cups definitely need to be in the stores. It had tiny chocolate chips in it. I like to see Chad selling papers to his regular customers, on his corner, sharing his pride in the paper that he sells.

Steve is the doorman at The Hermitage Hotel. Never have I seen anyone more perfectly suited for his job. First of all, Steve looks like he was born to wear a top hat and tails. He has the kindest smile which never leaves his face even as he is trying to cram 3 suitcases in the trunk of someone's tiny sportscar. Every morning as I walk by, he gives me a small bow, asks how I am doing and greets the children as they walk by. This morning, he told me he had just figured out who my mom is. She is a sort of crowned princess of the Hermitage Hotel, and everyone there loves her. Steve called her "a force of nature."  I had 200 people walking behind me, so I could not ask how he made the connection.  He did say that he could see the family resemblance. I really know nothing about Steve's life, but he certainly seems the loveliest sort of man.

So, these are some of my favorite people I see along the way. I consider myself a very fortunate person to do the job I do. I live a very non-glamorous and, in many ways, a very simple life blessed by the comings and goings of many interesting folks.

Miss Eba (not a typo)

Our church family lost another of our great matriarchs this week. Miss Eba, as my children and I called her. We knew she was the celebrity in her family when the children all called her husband, John, "Brother Miss Eva."  Of course she was famous; she taught the two-year-old class at the nursery school for years. The children loved her, but their parents loved her more. There was no one with whom we wanted our children to be more than Miss Eva and Miss Sharon.

I learned a lot from Miss Eva. I learned a valuable lesson in grace from her when my child (name withheld to protect the guilty) was in her class. It seems my precious child went to school and informed the class that Daddy had learned a new word. Miss Eva was thrilled that we, good parents that we were, worked on increasing our child's vocabulary. So she asked what the new word was, expecting some legal term like writ of habeas corpus, or heretofore or plaintiff since the daddy in this family was a lawyer. Oh, if only. Instead, our child sweetly told Miss Eva the word was "son of a b#*+?."  Nice. When Miss Eva called to graciously remind us that little ears hear things, I racked my brain to figure out what in the world. Mr. L does not talk like that, and then, I remembered. He had told a joke in the car with the children in the back seat, and the new vocabulary word was the punchline. Miss Eva probably never said that word in her life, but she treated a new mom with grace and kindness, without judgment. I always felt like Mr. L was a favorite of hers after that.

One of the greatest lessons I learned from Miss Eva she shared on parent night. In regards to two-year-olds she said, "I expect nothing from them, so anything I get is a bonus."  I think she was sort of kidding, but I think that's a great motto in regard to just people in general.

Miss Eva loved The Pineapple Room at Cheekwood and The Puffy Muffin. She could always be found treating for lunch some woman who was struggling in some way. She took me to lunch a lot! Seems I was always struggling with something. My OC baby shower for my son was at Miss Eva's house.  She was an extraordinarily gracious hostess, and I remember many a meal and party in her home.

Miss Eva was a refined, classy lady who could be found wearing UT bloomers, festive sweaters with jewelry to match for every holiday or some perfectly put together ensemble. She did not lack for opinions nor the motivation to express them. She abhorred crassness of any sort. She was a worthy mentor and friend.

When Miss Eva moved to assisted living, there was an estate sale at her house. I bought a glass spooner that I think is Flint glass. I use it a lot. I also bought several of her vintage handkerchiefs. I will keep one of those close beside me Sunday during her memorial service.

I loved Miss Eva. I know she loved my family and me. She has been gone from church services for a long time. She, as I understand, had been mindfully absent from her surroundings for quite some time as well. Her legacy lives on in her children, her grandchildren and now her great grandchildren. Miss Eva, like many others, is intricately woven in the Otter Creek tapestry.

Time Travelers

If you were here, right this moment, you would say it is Friday, March 3 and that I am at home, cleaning a little, cooking a little, blogging a little, nursing the crud, listening to Pandora, painting birthday cards. You would be wrong. I am living in next Tuesday. I am in an operating room.  I am one of many residing there....in our hearts and minds. We are there for our lovely friend and sister. And, as we are there, we are also at the feet of Jesus entreating Him to carry our pleas to the Father.

This is Church. We travel together. We hold each other up. We stand in the gap. This world throws out a lot of hard stuff, really hard stuff.  I know those who would consider me weak, and, Lord knows I am, but I cannot imagine doing life without my Church. I have mentioned this friend in an earlier blog, "The Reluctant Celebrity."  Please, when you read this post, stop for just a moment and travel to Tuesday with me, to an operating room, and raise a prayer.

Much gratitude