Hey.. Hey…

You know when some event happens and it brings back a flood of memories?   Today (well, technically yesterday as it is after midnight now), such an event happened for me.   I was on Facebook and saw that Peter Tork of the Monkees had passed away.

For a moment, I did not believe my eyes, so off my fingers went to google and sure enough what I had read was correct.   Peter Tork had passed away.  A part of my middle school life was gone.  Sweet memories flooded my mind and also a weird pang in my heart jabbed me.

The teeny-bopper television show was one I loved and I was a faithful fan of the Monkees.   Posters crowded my closet door.  I would save my baby sitting money to buy teen magazines so I could keep up with the latest on the Monkees.   I had their 45’s.  I had their albums.   To this day when I hear a Monkees song on the radio I can sing right along and also know where the needle on our record player would jump or stay put.   Of course, we all know that if you put a penny on the arm the needle would track the record better.

Beyond the usual teeny-bopper craze were the memories of a group of friends I had.  Marlene, Lorraine, Vicki and I spent each lunch hour together.  We were good friends and had spent each lunch hour together as long as I can remember.  We did not go home for lunch as many students at St. Joseph Catholic school did.   No, we ate in the lunch room and then went to the playground for the rest of the lunch hour.  The playground was actually the asphalt parking lot for the church, but, it was what we had.  No swings, no slides, no teeter-totter, just asphalt.   There were the occasional jump ropes and if we truly scored there was a ball to play with, but for the most part, it was conversations as we huddled in the corners between the spires of the church.  It was there that Marlene told us that her mom was going to have a baby and she hoped it was a girl as she only had one sister and five brothers.  It was there that Lorraine told us she was going to be an aunt, and we marveled how she was able to be an aunt in sixth grade even though we knew her brothers were much older than she was.   I know it was also where I could talk about my Mom and how much I missed her.

My Mom died in 1966, the year the Monkees television show started.  Their music and their show distracted me away from the grief I felt most of the time.  When I was with my friends and we were talking about the Monkees, I was no longer that girl whose Mom had died, I was just a normal girl.  Somehow, the Monkees enabled me to be a regular person and one that could carry on conversations.

I actually did not realize until today how much that group meant to me.  I knew I liked them.  I knew I was a fan.   But, it wasn’t until today, some fifty years later, that I realized they helped me move past my grief and back into normalcy.

So, thank you gentlemen for helping me through that season of my life.  Rest in peace, to my favorite Monkee.     Cathi (DAF)

 

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Tea…

I sit here drinking a cup of chai tea.  It is warm, comforting and I am enjoying it very much.   I decided to have a cup after reading Chai and a Chat on Ritu’s But I Smile Anyway.    I commented to her that in comparison to what she would be drinking, mine is a weak American counterpart.

I grew up with tea.  My folks being of Irish and Scottish descent, tea was ladled out for all sort of remedies.   Don’t feel good?  Here’s a cup of tea.   Feeling sad?  Here’s a cup of tea.   I continued that tradition with my girls.

During dinner when we were young, I remember my Mom would heat up the water and fill the teapot.  After dinner, the teapot would be placed on the table, and both of my folks would have a cup of tea to finish their meal.  I always left a bit of milk in my glass because, if I was lucky enough, Mom would pour some of her tea into my glass and I would be able to join in with them.

I don’t remember the teapot being on the table after my Mom got sick, but, the memory lingers in the deep recesses of my brain.   I remember the teapot as a teapot.  I can’t remember the color or design, but the image of it sitting on the table comes back to me often.

I love teapots.  I actually have a collection of them.  I have some from Japan (for loose green tea), and I have one from each member of my family.  Hubby got me a big one that I don’t use often as when it is filled, it is heavy.  My oldest gave me one that actually matched my kitchen when we lived in San Diego.  My youngest gave me a plain white one that, I confess is usually the one I grab when making tea for hubby and I in the evening.  It doesn’t pour well, I hold it over the sink to pour, otherwise more tea ends up on the counter than in the cup.

My most prized teapot is a special one my girls brought back from their vacation to London a few years ago.   They  said they went into a shop either in Piccadilly or Notting Hill,  (I am not certain which right now) and described me to the shopkeeper.  They told him that I collect teapots and I love unusual ones.  He reached down and produced the teapot they purchased.  It is one of my most prized possessions.  It sits in my china hutch and I use it on special occasions.  It pours so beautifully and brings tears to my eyes when I look at it.

I know things like this are made to be used and enjoyed, and after all, they are just things.  This one, though is more to me, as it reminds me that I have two loving daughters who care about me.   They spent time during their vacation with each other to remember me.  They made certain it was carefully packed to arrive perfect for me.

So, now my cup of tea is finished as is this post.   Just some random thoughts on this sunny day here, thanks for stopping by.   Cathi (DAF)

Middle of the Night Reminders…

Several years ago while living in San Diego, I had one of those horrible, no good, awful days.  You know the kind, where you carry your soap box around with you because everything sets you off and you want to voice your opinion on them.   I cannot remember what all set me off, some I do and since they are of a political nature, I will refrain from dredging them up.   Anyhow, my dear hubby came home from work, ate his dinner listening to my rants of the day and suggested an evening drive to the mountains.  Now, if it were me, I would make that suggestion to throw me off said mountain, but, fortunately, I am not him.  Instead, he drove me to the mountains, to ‘our’ spot that has a turn out and a beautiful view of the desert floor.

We drove the 40 minutes to the mountains, pulled into our spot and got out of the car.  I stood looking at the darkness surrounding me.  It was quiet there, no traffic noise.   Hubby wrapped his arms around me and just held me.  After the day I had, he knew that this is what I needed.  Quiet, peace and the sky.  I sighed and told him, “Someday I just want to be able to walk out my front door and see stars again.  Not have to drive almost an hour just to see a star in the sky.”

Stars are hard to see in big cities.  The light pollution fills the night sky and blank out the stars.  Yes, there are a few stars, but, they are not brilliant.

Last night I could not sleep.  Again.   As I lay in bed I started to watch the parade in my mind of every little thing that needed attention.  Granted, in the middle of the night, EVERYTHING you think of is in need of attention.  I finally got up and walked into our dining room.  I peeked out of the curtains and saw the front porch.  On it sat two chairs, small ones but they were there nonetheless.  They are just little things that I wanted this summer and there they were.  I told myself that this was a reminder, things get taken care of.

I next walked into our living room and walked over to a set of french doors.  Looking out I tried to see if any deer were sleeping in the yard, there were none that I could see.  I started to think of the flower garden that each year I attempt to get under control and each year I have failed.  I quickly walked away from the window.

Next, I was in our kitchen.  At the window I looked out and adjusted my eyes to the lights at the end of our driveway and our neighbors driveway lights.   They gave a gentle glow to the bare trees in our side yard.   Beautifully rising and casting shadows in the night sky.  It was an awesome sight, like a painting I have seen somewhere.  My eyes kept going up and there, spread across the sky as far as I could see were stars!  Bright stars that reminded me of little white Christmas lights blanketing the sky.

In that moment, I felt like I was being covered with a warm blanket.  Those stars were shining for me to see.  Those stars were right outside my door.  Stars for me to see and watch and marvel at.   Psalm 37:4 says, “Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you your heart’s desires.”     Standing in my kitchen and looking out at the night sky, I realized I had so many of my heart’s desires.  Humbled, I turned to go back to bed. 

As I reached the doorway of my bedroom I remembered Psalm 46:10 a “Be still, and know that I am God;” 

It always amazes me when I actually stop long enough to be still.  To stop and listen instead of continually yapping to our Lord about things.  Middle of the night parades rob me of peace.  They rob me of sleep.  They rob me of listening when I need to hear things.  Sometimes I need to get up and just look at what surrounds me and remember that my God knows exactly what I need.  Today, I am thankful and grateful and hopefully I won’t move from this place for a while.

Thanks for stopping by today,  hope you have a good day.   Cathi (DAF)

 

A Flash Back Memory…

Last night while I was browsing You Tube, I came across a video for the Navy Lodge in Yokosuka, Japan.   This caught my eye as this is where we lived for the first couple of weeks after arriving in Japan.  I clicked on the link and smiled to myself.

This lodge is definitely not the classier place to stay when looking at first class hotels around the world.  It is by no means a four star resort to most.   It is a good, functional place to stay when you are being relocated to a foreign country and you don’t have your own home to move right in to.  It is a great place to drop your bags when you have arrived after a long and hard flight across the ocean.

I remember well the relief I felt when we first arrived to the Navy Lodge in June of 1976.  It was a dark and dreary night, no lie! It was a rainy night and the drive from Tokyo to Yokosuka was both invigorating and strange.   The signs were flashing neon, beckoning people to come into the pachinko parlors and restaurants and bars.  Each was fascinating to see, but overwhelming after a long flight from San Francisco.

We had a sponsor from the base meet us, which meant someone who my husband would be working with met us at the  airport and arranged for our lodging and getting us settled in for the first few weeks.  He drove a work van to the airport and talked most of the way from the airport.  Hubby carried on a conversation with him while I stared out the windows wondering how this was ever going to feel like home.

When we were dropped off at the Navy Lodge that night we checked in and were shown our room.   It was down a dark hallway.  On the way to the room we were shown where the bathrooms were and where the showers were.  Women on one side, men on the other.  Sort of like when you had gym class, those types of showers.   The only t.v. was in the lounge at the end of the hall.  Our room had a sink in it, a double bed and a small window, but it was quiet and it was ours.   We sunk into bed and slept like you can only sleep after a trans-Pacific flight.

After a good night’s sleep, a shower, and fresh clothes we met our sponsor for breakfast.  I can’t remember what that was, or where it was, all I know was the new day brought new energy and an excitement.

It did not take long for Japan to feel like home to us.  The signs that were so strange on our arrival soon became friendly to us.  The noise of the traffic and  the crowds of people became the melody of our lives.  We learned to move and flow with it.  Trains were second nature to me as I did not drive while living there.  I became familiar with the bus schedules, the bus stops, the train stations.  There were very few boring days while living there.

I often wonder what it is like now.  After watching the video last night of the Lodge, I smiled to myself.   A kitchenette in each room, that was unheard of!   A bathroom in each room, how wonderful!  A television in the room, amazing!  Plus, right before we left Japan, the Armed Forces Radio network brought us American television!  So, there is no more watching American shows dubbed in Japanese!

Time changes so much.  Things advance and improve and improve some more.   I would surmise, though, the people of Japan are still like they were.  They welcomed us and spoke with us and shared what they had with us.  They are a part of my history, my story, my heart.

Thanks for stopping by today,   I appreciate you.   Cathi (DAF)

 

Broken Bones, Broken Hearts and Broken Promises…

After a bit of encouragement today from a lovely group of bloggers, my mind started to once more formulate something to write. It has been three months since my last post. I broke a promise to myself to be more consistent in writing. I was determined and I did not see it through. I realized today that for years I have been playing at writing. It is a life long goal of mine to be a writer. A serious one. Each new year I think to myself, “This is THE year. I am going to start that novel I have carried in my heart and mind for the past twenty plus years. ” And then, by the end of January those thoughts fade and I think to myself, “Well, maybe someday I will get to it.” This year was no different, I thought maybe this year I will do it. Surprisingly enough, I haven’t ruled it out.

The past three months have been eventful. They have flown by actually. The end of October I was blessed in being able to speak to a group of women whom I love dearly. It was a long weekend retreat at a beach house in Myrtle Beach, SC. The talk centered around forgiveness and a hard lesson I learned about forgiveness and faith several years ago. It was a cathartic experience in writing this. But, with experiences like this, I felt drained after sharing my thoughts and words and emotions.

During the time of the retreat I had to miss the memorial service for my dear cousin who had passed away. It broke my heart to not be there for him or for my extended family. We each have that one cousin (if we are blessed) that brings your heart joy with each thought. He was that cousin for me. My heart smiles with each memory of him, but, I feel his absence daily with each thought also.

After the retreat, hubby and I traveled to our hometown in Northwest Pennsylvania. It was a wonderful time, it is always fun to be with friends and see family. We had a wedding to attend and that made the time even more enjoyable. Our niece made a beautiful bride and her new husband is a wonderful addition to our family.

As we were celebrating in our niece’s joy we received word that a dear friend passed away suddenly after a fall. It made the cracks in our heart deeper as we realized once more that we would not be there for the memorial service. The separation of death hurts in ways you do not expect. We have the assurance that we will see one another again, both my cousin and our friend, when we pass through this life, but, it does not ease the desire for one more conversation, one more round of laughter, one more time to pray for one another.

On our last night in our hometown, my dear hubby decided to do a tap dance with a cat, at the top of a staircase. Guess who won the dance contest? Yep, the cat! Fortunately, no fall down the stairs, but there was a trip to the emergency room for a broken ankle. It fortunately healed quickly and he is back to normal and on the mend.

Yes, it’s been a hectic three months. But, worth it. In between all the chaos were the holidays and a trip to see Mickey and Minnie at Disney World. I have found that usually in life there is chaos and confusion at times, but in the day to day things there is always a place where peace and joy reside. It is in the little things. The memories of loved ones that make your heart smile. The laughter as you explain to doctors how an ankle was broken. The victory of being able to share things from your life you never thought you would be able to speak aloud. The sparkle of tree lights and the sparkle of grandchildren as they look and marvel at gifts under the tree. The gleeful laughter of grands as they play and chase one another around the house, dogs in pursuit and mothers yelling to slow down. Life, sometimes it needs encouragement, sometimes it needs quiet, sometimes a simple nudge to just write helps immensely.

Thanks for stopping by today, I appreciate you! Cathi (DAF)

Faith…

blonde hair blur daylight environment

Photo by Sebastian Voortman on Pexels.com

I have attempted many things in my life that I never would have thought of doing when I was growing up in my small hometown of Oil City, PA.   I married my high school sweetheart which at the time was a pretty normal thing for people to do.  However, he was a career Navy man and the day after our wedding he drove me away from the security of our hometown, and we have been on an adventure since then.

I have seen the Atlantic ocean, the Pacific ocean, Tokyo Bay, Sagami Bay, and the finger lakes around Mt Fuji,  the Gulf of California off San Felipe, the Gulf of Mexico .  I have been to Tokyo several times, been on an aircraft carrier for a day, been mountain climbing in Maine with our five month old daughter, passing her between one another while we climbed to the top (not our most prepared moment).  I have run across the Golden Gate Bridge for fun, fallen off a bike into a rice paddy, eaten some strange foods not knowing what they were.     I have felt adventurous, bold, brave.  I have had fun.  I know in comparison to others, these are all small things to accomplish, but, for this small town girl who never thought she would see anything except the Allegheny River and Oil Creek, these are big things.

I said all of the above because yesterday as I was preparing for some decorating for our upcoming Ladies Retreat, I came across a clip art that showed a woman leaping from one mountain top to another.  This piece of clip art stopped me.  I literally stopped what I was doing and just stared at the image for several moments.  It wasn’t necessarily a striking image, it was just a woman in mid-air between two outcropping peaks of a mountain.   I have jumped across mountain outcroppings like this before without a thought as to what I was doing, and normally I would just smile and continue to look for what I originally was searching for.

However, I stopped.  I studied this image.  My heart joined in the study.  This clip art spoke of faith.  This person photographed an act of faith.  This woman left a piece of ground she was certain of.  She knew what she was standing on.  It was firm land, safe land.  She left that security and leapt not knowing what the ground across from her would be like.  Would that ground be as firm as what she just left?  When she landed again would the ground be firm or would it be slick?  Would there be rocks covered in moss or gravel?  Would she stumble or slip?  These questions flooded my mind as I stared at the clip art.

Then, a question came to my mind, “When was the last time you took a leap of faith?”  The answer to myself was not positive.  I once thought myself adventuresome.  There was a part of me that smiled because I had done so many things that a girl from Oil City never thought of doing, and yet, here I am, now an older woman from South Carolina who leads a pretty ordinary, quiet life.

Have I settled?  Have I told myself it’s time that I shouldn’t expect that rush of excitement and adventure?  All these questions and thoughts flooded my mind and heart in a five-minute time frame, and then kept rattling around my brain since.   In getting older, those leaps of faith come with a bit of wisdom and experience, memories of skinned knees, aching limbs, racing hearts and disappointments jump up in the front of my mind.   I don’t want to miss out though.

While in Japan, hubby and I went to the mountains for a weekend retreat.  Our car’s battery had been blown so the car wouldn’t start on its own, we had to push it to start it.  We drove that beat up old car into the mountains, each time we stopped I would get out and push it as I didn’t know how to drive a stick shift then, and popping a clutch was an unnatural feat for me.   But, it was during that memorable trip that Psalm 121 became a part of my life.   To me, it speaks of faith, leaping faith, and I close sharing it here with you.

Psalm 121 (New Living Translation)

A song for pilgrims ascending to Jerusalem.

I look up to the mountains—
    does my help come from there?
My help comes from the Lord,
    who made heaven and earth!

He will not let you stumble;
    the one who watches over you will not slumber.
Indeed, he who watches over Israel
    never slumbers or sleeps.

The Lord himself watches over you!
    The Lord stands beside you as your protective shade.
The sun will not harm you by day,
    nor the moon at night.

The Lord keeps you from all harm
    and watches over your life.
The Lord keeps watch over you as you come and go,
    both now and forever.

I am now challenged to look for places to leap out in faith.  Will I succeed?  I really don’t know, all I know is I am going to look for places to leap, it may only be jumping across a puddle for now, but maybe, just maybe I have a mountain top or two to leap over.

Thanks for stopping by today, Cathi (DAF)

SIPB SUMMER BLOG TAG

I have had my blog for several years and have only recently discovered blogging group pages on Facebook.   This past year I joined a group that I thoroughly enjoy.  There are few like this out in the ‘virtual’ world.    This group Sharing, Inspiring, Promoting Bloggers    is a great group.   A few weeks ago there was a thread that I jumped in on.  I could not resist it.  I sat for a good couple of hours laughing and reading and commenting.  It was like a high-speed pen-pal journey,  you remember pen-pals, don’t you?  You know those names you pulled out of a box in primary school, a name from a different country or state and you wrote them mainly as an exercise for grammar and learning to write letters.  But, if you were lucky enough, you got a response and a long distance friendship was born.    It was always exciting to get a letter with a foreign stamp on the front of it and you opened the paper to discover something new about someone.    This is what that thread was like.   I sat on my couch in my living room in the south, sipping some iced tea, but it felt like I was sitting on someone’s porch with a group of friends.  It was wonderful.

What transpired was a list of questions that several of us are responding to.  Please check out the link above if you are looking for a dynamic group to be part of on Facebook.  Below are the answers to the questions posed that delightful day.

  1. What is your favorite Summer holiday destination?   I have so many places that I have enjoyed that this would be a list,  anyplace with my grandchildren, the state of Maine, Disney resorts (or any amusement park), Prince Edward Island, camping in the mountains, or just my backyard!
  2. What is my favorite childhood memory of Summer?  Playing with my sisters, riding our bikes, walking barefoot to the community pool, going to the park sitting on the monkey bars and eating potato chips with my sister, playing kick ball and hide and seek with the neighborhood kids.  I had a great time in the summer when I was a kid.
  3. Which do you prefer: ice cream or frozen yogurt?   Summers are made for ice cream, or frozen custard (soft serve).  For soft serve, it has to be vanilla dipped in chocolate and ice cream I love is cherry vanilla.   Of course my favorite ice cream can change with the day also!
  4. What is your go to meal on a hot Summer evening?  When we lived in a house with  no air conditioning, it was either taco salad or fruit salad with a sweet dip and muffins.  Now that I have the luxury of an air-conditioned house I cook whatever I feel like!  Just so it is quick and easy!
  5. What is your favorite BBQ food?   I have recently learned that here in the south, BBQ is its own food, but, having grown up in the northern states I think of BBQ as anything cooked on the outside grill.  (I gave that disclaimer for any of my local friend who may be reading)  There is nothing better to me than a hot dog on the grill.  A plain, simple hot dog, on a bun with catsup and a tiny bit of mustard and if hubby isn’t going to be around, then a spoonful of diced onions.   And now, that is what I want for dinner!
  6. Share a song that takes you back to an amazing Summer. The summer of 69 was probably my favorite summer.  It was the summer before high school and I loved that summer.  I think we are alone now by  Tommy James and the Shondells takes me back.
  7. How do you beat the heat in summer?   As I mentioned before, I do love my air conditioning!  I sit inside and pray for summer to end!!  I am not a summer person, really, I am not.
  8. Do you prefer swimming in an ocean or a pool?   I immediately say pool since you know what is beneath you, but, once I am in the ocean I love it.  I love the spray on my face and the feeling of the sand flowing out from under my feet as the waves go back and forth.
  9. Do you prefer to travel with family, friends or solo?  I most enjoy just getting away with my hubby, we make a great team traveling together.  Family is fun, but it can get tiring for everyone.  The kids get tired and their parents get tired and since we are old, we are always tired.  Solo is fun, I have done that a couple of times and I really like it, but, if I were always alone, it would not be fun at all.  I have a whole book of memories traveling with a friend that I will someday share, it was a riot.
  10. Flip flops or barefoot?   There was a time when it was only bare feet for me, the soft grass of Northwest Pennsylvania is wonderful to sink your feet into.  But, the feel of grasses in most of the places we have lived has never matched that feel of grass in childhood and I have since been a feet covered person.  I will wear flip-flops at time, but for the most part its athletic shoes and socks!!

I have had so much fun thinking of answers and traveling back in my mind and looking through the scrapbook of my mental memories for this post.  I thank the members of this group for extending not only friendship but encouragement and information, you are all the best!

Hope you enjoyed this post as much as I enjoyed writing it.  Cathi (DAF)

 

For Everything there is a Season…

I usually do any deep reflecting at the end of the year, after Christmas and right around the New Year’s celebrations.   That is when I think of the past year and ponder what the new year will bring.  That is the way I have done it for years and years (and if I was truthful, I would add another ‘and years’ to that statement).

So, it has been unusual for me to begin to reflect this early in the year.  This time of year is when I complain about the heat and the mosquitoes, if nothing else, I am a creature of habit. Specific things for specific times.

I have a great-niece (actually, I have six nieces that are great) but this is actually a great-niece as in my niece’s daughter,  hopefully that made sense.  She is a wonderful young woman, (as is her sister), and she recently graduated from high school.  Her Facebook posts reflect those of a recent graduate.  They are filled with emotion and excitement, determination, anticipation and mixed in with all of that, is a measure of uncertainty and if I am being truthful, fear.    This is an exciting time for her.  Her whole life is before her.  A vast hallway filled with open doors and adventures.  She is standing in the doorway, ready to embark on the rest of her life.

Yesterday hubby and I were having a conversation with some friends.  We were talking about our age and how quickly we came to the point we are.  We talked how we felt on the inside versus how we ‘looked’ on the outside.  It’s a conversation I have had several times in the past few years.  In fact, I find myself saying the same things while having these conversations.

This morning I woke up in a pondering mood.  I lay in bed as I thought of my life.  I really could see many opportunities that I passed on.  I realized that my vast hallway filled with open doors had many doors still open or halfway closed, all covered in cobwebs for not being used.  I wondered if I regretted not exploring them.  As I dressed for the day listening to my creaking joints and looking at my gray hair, it occurred to me that, yes, I am as old as I look, no matter how young I may think I am.

I know these were deep thoughts for a Monday morning, but, when my mind starts a journey of thought, I determine that I will see it through, with or without my first cup of coffee.

A couple of songs went through my mind.  The first, by the Byrd’s , “Turn, Turn, Turn”  and then just a snippet of Frank Sinatra’s classic, “I did it my way”  But, for the latter, the only phrase that stuck in my mind was “regrets, I’ve had a few, but then again, too few to mention”.

There were two things I took away from my morning musing which, obviously I am going to share with you.   The first, I did not explore all that was available to me, but, I would not travel back down that vast hallway just to see what I missed.

Secondly, each part of our life is a new season.  Each part of our life finds us at the doorway of a hallway.  That hallway may not be as long as what it was when we were freshly out of school, but, nevertheless, it is a hallway filled with open doors.  We each have new things to discover and explore.  New adventures await.  So, by this afternoon, this white-haired, creaky lady, who still feels like she is eighteen, albeit a very slow-moving eighteen year old is about to take a step from the doorway into her hall.

I also leave you with a quote from Ecclesiastes, which is where the song mentioned above came from.  This is Ecclesiastes 3:11-13 from the New Living Translation.   It sort of sums up how I am feeling on this Monday afternoon.   11 Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end. 12 So I concluded there is nothing better than to be happy and enjoy ourselves as long as we can. 13 And people should eat and drink and enjoy the fruits of their labor, for these are gifts from God.

Thank you for stopping by today, hope you are having a good day.   Cathi (DAF)

 

Grammy’s purse…

My daughter is married to a Navy man, which makes our Little Miss a Navy brat.  A couple of weeks ago my daughter and son-in-law had a weekend military commitment, and hubby and I went to Florida to watch our Little Miss for them.

We arrived on a Wednesday and spent the next couple of days in a resort condo that belongs to a friend of theirs.  We loved the view of the Gulf of Mexico, the white sand, the boardwalk, and most of all, we loved being with our kids.  IMG_1914IMG_1911.JPG

Each time we went to eat, Little Miss would gravitate to my purse.  She would start with the line,”I really like your purse Grammy.”  It is a bright pink wristlet bag that is small but somehow holds a lot!  Little Miss would hold on to my bag, and then shake it.  Of course she would hear the mints inside.

My purse is a treasure trove for a three-year old girl.   Inside is a container of mints, some cute sticky notes, pens, and lips losps (lip gloss).  What more could a girl ask for?  Each meal the purse would come out, the contents rummaged through, mints eaten and lip gloss applied.  The sticky notes and pen entertained her for at least a minute, it was just pure heaven for her.

Friday of that week, we took Little Miss back to her house for the weekend, while Mom and Dad stayed at the resort for their event.  We got to the house, unloaded the car, unloaded Little Miss and got settled in.  A few minutes after getting to the house, Little Miss went down for her nap and Grammy decided it was time to head to the store to pick up a few things.

I am very particular in where I put my purse since it has all my id’s and cards, and basically my life.  I grabbed the keys, the shopping list and went to grab my purse.  It was nowhere in sight.  I looked in the car, nothing.  I looked in the laundry room, nothing.  Looked in our room, again, nothing.  I retraced my steps several times.  I asked hubby if he had seen it.  He told me he brought it in and where he put it.  It wasn’t there.  I questioned him over and over, doubting more each time and putting a sudden onset of dementia on him, thinking he just didn’t remember right.

I gave up and just headed to the store, praying that I would not get in an accident or pulled over with no license on my person.  I have never (up to this point in my life) lost a wallet or purse.  I was sick at the thought of having to replace cards and identification.

I made it home without meeting any of the local law enforcement and decided to pull a Scarlett O’Hara, putting my hand to my forehead and saying, “I will think about that tomorrow.”   Replacing the wallet was going to take a back seat to preparing dinner, although I was truly sick thinking about the lost purse.

After putting groceries away, I started to fix dinner, wanting to get it done while Little Miss was sleeping.   I went to get a pan out and there sitting on top of the pans was my pink purse.  Hubby had said that he had placed my purse on the kitchen counter and sure enough he had, within an arm’s reach of a certain three-year old who decided to put the purse up for safe keeping.    I stared at the purse perched on top of the pans and just started to laugh.  Never would I have thought to look there, but, it was there for safe keeping.  I picked up the purse and put it up, out of the reach of a certain Little Miss.   It was a wonderful time and I haven’t laughed that much in a while.IMG_1950

Thanks for stopping by,  Cathi (DAF)

 

 

Unrequited…

I recently read that not every person who comes into our lives brings positive and wonderful things.  That oftentimes we meet prickly people.  Although, the person I am writing about in this post is not a prickly person, he did teach me a hard lesson.

As I have written before, my Mom passed away when I was eleven.  It goes without saying that the following few years were tough for myself and my sisters.

The summer of 69 brought a fresh breeze though and it was a turning point especially in my life.  That summer, my older sister met her husband while working at the city pool.  That summer I met my first love at the same pool.

I have known for a very long time that I would one day write about him, but, so often the words failed to be cohesive and make sense to me.  I finally, after much thought and actually praying about this, am ready to write this.

We were fourteen years old.  He(GJL) was tall, dark and I thought handsome.  I fell hard and as is common with a first love, I gave my heart.  It was a brief romance, just a few weeks that amounted to a first slow dance in the living room of his future sister in law’s living room, meeting at the pool, and a day watching a soap box derby, a walk through the park and the highlight of having my hand held for the first time.  That sums up the romance, actually.  Except for the fact that a piece of my heart went to him.  His mom, had other ideas about this romance and she ended it which I found out much later after wondering why I was being ignored.  His younger brother finally told me.  So, there was no closure.  No ending.  Just nothing, and my heart broken.

We went to the same high school and whenever I saw GJL, my tummy would do flips as I would hope he would at least smile at me.   Hubby and GJL worked together during the summer and actually he is partly responsible for hubby and I getting together since I would talk with hubby during summer school art enrichment classes so I could look at GJL.

The lesson I learned from GJL is this, hearts can and will be broken.  When they break, it colors how you view relationships, both those of a dating nature and friendships.  You can adopt the philosophy of  “hurt before being hurt“, and/or you can keep everyone at arm’s length, therefore protecting yourself for further hurt.  Both of these things, I have done.  Unrequited means something is not returned, it is not reciprocated.  When things do not have a closure you cannot retrieve what was given, and therefore after almost fifty years, a piece of my heart is still missing.

Would I trade anything in the past fifty years?  No.  I would not.  Because, when I was going through all of this I turned to the One friend who has never left me, never hurt me, never led me in the wrong direction. I would pour out my heart to Him while sobbing in my pillow at night. That friend knows what a broken heart feels like.  His heart was broken for us when He died on the cross.    Luke 4:18 says in the first part, The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me, Because He has anointed Me To preach the gospel to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted”  (New King James Version)  

Since that time my heart has been broken several times.  Because of that first heart-break I have learned that although it is not pleasant, broken hearts do heal. Each break brings new wisdom.  Each break strengthens you in some way.  My heart is now scattered all over, in old boyfriends (there really weren’t that many), old friendships that soured, family members who have turned their back on me. I can’t retrieve those pieces and I don’t think I would want to because with each loss, I have become who I am.

Do I think of GJL?  Not as much as I once did, but every once in a while I wonder about how he is doing and if he is happy and well.   I hope he is.  I know I am.  Jeremiah 29:11 says, “I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.” (The Message)  The future I got so many years ago is beyond what I could have thought about or hoped for. 

Thank you for stopping by today, Cathi (DAF)