Morning Coffee

I woke up Saturday morning later than usual. I walked into the kitchen and started the coffee to brew like I always do. I had just enough time to drink a cup while I talked with my husband before I met a friend for our long Saturday run.

Lately I’ve been treating myself to a cinnamon almond milk macchiato after the miles on Saturdays and I look forward to it. But I didn’t need to stop for coffee this Saturday. Before I left the house I realized there was coffee left in the pot so I hurriedly poured it into my Yeti cup to keep it warm and brought it with me.

After the run, I said goodbye to my running partner, opened the car door and smelled the aroma of coffee. As I started the car I wondered why there was so much…….I brewed the same amount I’ve always brewed. It took me a minute to realize why I had a Yeti full of coffee. My daughter didn’t drink her portion like she usually does on Saturday morning.

She was on her honeymoon.

Like I always do, I brewed enough coffee for me and my daughter. She enjoys coffee as much as I do and she’s up early on Saturdays for her work. We sit and talk as we sip our coffee until one of us says, “I have to get ready after I tell you this”.

We both love good conversation and our morning ones are some of the best. So good that sometimes, we can barely pull away.

Her morning coffee routine will be different now. Mine too.

But it will be good.

Growing and changing.

Endings and beginnings.

These are necessary and good and beautiful.

 

 

Photo by John-Mark Smith from Pexels

Blink
 

Hello Again

Last week I challenged you to say hello to at least 5 strangers. The point of the challenge is for us to become more aware of those around us. Let’s keep saying hello but go further and start a conversation.

I had a couple of interesting encounters but mostly I say “hey” and smile and the other person does the same. Some people don’t say anything but smile as they walk past me. I’ve noticed if I’m waiting in line and say hello a conversation usually takes place. Today I had a really nice talk with an older gentleman as we sat in the waiting room of the dental office. He told me about his wife and praised her biscuit making skills. She makes them for him every morning.

When I took this challenge a couple of years ago, I met Edna at my local library. She’s an older woman with white hair. She told me she can’t type very well.hello

I also met Mr.Grocery Guy. Although I didn’t get his name, I found out he’s working on his degree in finance and he turned down a great intern opportunity to marry the love of his life. He and his love are now divorced after 2 years of marriage. I told him I was sorry and he told me it was okay. He is back on track with his finance career goals. I learned all of this while he was helping me get my groceries to my car. I told him good luck with his endeavors and he said a hearty “thank you”.

The most interesting conversation was with a young mother in the parking lot at the library. I noticed her talking on her cellphone very loudly and I smiled at her. When I came out of the library she stopped me as she was driving out of the parking lot. She apologized for her shouting. She explained that she doesn’t always do that then shared more about her situation. Her husband is out of work and instead of going with her to look for a job as planned, he went with his friends to make a drug run. I put my hand on hers and asked her name, then her husband’s name. I told her I was sorry about what she’s going through and she drove off.

I’m unsure of why she felt like she needed to share that.

Except this: she wants someone to know. She wants to feel less alone in her fight. Her heart is breaking for her children and she needs to know someone cares. She needs hope.

Do these encounters matter? I think so. I know they matter to me. They keep me connected to others and their hurts. While I’m worrying what to fix for dinner the young mother from the library parking lot is worrying for the safety of her children. That shakes me up. It forces me to get out of my comfortable middle class world and get out there and do something…..anything that can help give people hope.

There’s lots of ways to help. Serve meals to the homeless, teach a class to women at a transition home, volunteer at your local schools, tutor kids, mentor young people, visit nursing home residents or those in prison, become certified as foster parents. These are all ways to make a difference.

Or you could buy a house in a deprived neighborhood, fix it up, and live there. I have friends who are doing this. This isn’t a year long project or a temporary deal either. They’ve been there 6 years. They’re living right where the help is needed, building life-giving relationships and making a difference in their neighborhood.

It’s called living on purpose. It’s called living like it matters.

And it can start with hello.

I will issue another challenge soon.  Until then, keep saying hello.

In His Hands

I knew this journey of Lent would be a slowing down for me as it should be. How can I reflect and reconnect and refocus at high speed? Those are “soul-speed” kinds of things.

So I am learning to take my time……take it in………be present.

The reading for Day 7 from Bread and Wine is called the The Relinquished Life. My favorite line is “God will make you fit for all He requires of you.” I recalled the verse that struck me last week from Jeremiah.

But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him.     Jeremiah 18:4

If I’m going to be made fit for all He requires or shaped as seems best to Him……then I need to let Him do it. The clay is there for the potter to shape. The clay is marred but the clay is soft.

I must remain pliable in His hands.

And the shaping of pots is probably done best at soul-speed.

 

photo by Quino Al

Mama

Mom’s wait was over one year ago today. Her last breath left her while all of us were gathered around her at home, holding her hands, telling her we love her, crying because we knew we’d miss her, but rejoicing that her fight for breath was finished.

One of my favorite memories of Mom is when I was a teenager living in Chattanooga, Tennessee. She, my younger sister and I were at Eastgate Mall and she wanted to eat a sandwich at Glen Gene’s deli.  We sat down to eat our sandwiches and we talked and laughed. She listened mostly. I don’t remember the words said or what I was wearing or the taste of the sandwich. I remember the deli wasn’t crowded. I remember her happy and smiling and there. And I remember the song that played while sitting in those yellow seats at Glen Gene’s deli that day.  The song was, “True” by Spandau Ballet.

So true
Funny how it seems
Always in time, but never in line for dreams
Head over heels when toe to toe
This is the sound of my soul
This is the sound 

“Always in time, but never in line for dreams…..”  Mom didn’t speak of the dreams she had for her life. She didn’t talk about how she thought her life would turn out. I wonder if it was what she thought or hoped it would be.

She loved Daddy and her quartet of daughters. She loved her home and the town she lived in. She was a woman of courage and she didn’t give up. She stayed in a hard marriage that turned into 51 years.

Mom was a hard worker and taught us to do the same. Anyone who ever tasted her cooking praised her work in the kitchen. She was a list-maker to the very end and funny, too. She had us laughing even in the last days.

She loved reminiscing and in the last year of her life she shared treasured memories with us as often as we would sit and listen.

She commented on one of my posts called “51” about a year before she left us and several months before Daddy passed.

Marie,

Thank you for the beautiful words you put together for Wayne and I. I do believe our four beautiful and wonderful daughters had so very much to do with us making the marriage work. Not only our girls, but our friends and families that were praying for us through all the difficult times. Ultimately, it was God and his love that got us through the rough times. Also, I knew Wayne was a godly person and did not want the life we were living with the drinking problem. I knew that one day he would ask God to remove the desire for drinking away from his mind, body and heart. God answered that prayer and today we continue trusing in God and his promises. Thanks to our four daughters for what they have given to us, their love and trust and our ten grandchildren.

Love,

Mom

Each time she spoke of her life she was thankful.

To God…..for us…..for Daddy….for her other family…… and her wonderful friends.  She was thankful for everything. She praised God.

Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. Praise the Lord.      Psalm 150:6 

I think she was in line for dreams and hers came true.

Songs

Asking me to pick my favorite songs is like asking me to pick my favorite time of the day to breathe.  I can’t do it.

I’m not a musician just a music lover.

I play no instruments and I don’t sing on stage. And I can’t read a note of music.

But I can hear.  So I listen.  And I move. Or snap my fingers. And I think and feel deeply.  Especially to those singer/songwriters who weave music and words together so beautifully. Like Taylor Swift. You have to love Bad Blood. As a writer I am sometimes jealous of her amazing ability.  Or like other amazing writers/singers like Darlene Zschech from Hillsong or Joel Houston from Hillsong United.

Sometimes the music is in the background but plays a vital role in what you’re seeing.  Ken Burns’ The Civil War wouldn’t be the same without the Ashokan Farewell by Jay Ungar and Molly Mason.

Sometimes I sing along. Because I sound really good in the car! I can’t help but sing when Honey I’m Home by Shania Twain or Katy Perry’s Roar is on.

Then there are my favorite dance songs and running songs and cleaning the house songs and driving in the car to work songs.

And the worship music I love. By All Sons & Daughters or Crowder or Jesus Culture.

And the songs that make me remember and laugh, like Girls Just Wanna Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper or one of my all time favorites, Sweet Child O’ Mine by Guns and Roses. That one takes me back to my senior year in high school every time.

Or what about the songs that make me remember and cry. Mom’s cherished hymn, Beulah Land does that. So does one of Dad’s recent favorites Lord I Need You by Matt Maher.

And what about the ones I love just because, like Jackson by Johnny Cash and June Carter.

And there’s Rihanna’s We Found Love or Pink’s Try.

And Born Again by Third Day.

And Spirit In the Sky by Norman Greenbaum.

And the song that I will love that hasn’t even been released yet.

Oh and Christmas songs…………

In response to the Daily Prompt’s Always Something There to Remind Me