If Walls Could Talk

A few days ago I went to one of my favorite stores and filled my cart with anything colorful and business casual that was my size. I was in my dressing room minding my own business when two ladies, (let's call them Mary and Rhoda) with the best upstate accents starting talking to each other about the little black dress one of them was trying on. I thoroughly enjoyed hearing all about the upcoming wedding and was just as disappointed as they were that the dress was not quite fancy enough for the pending nuptials. Mary decided to try on something else and told Rhoda about the time she got stuck in a dress. Since dress number two was a bit too tight, no way was she was going to pull it down past her head. Rhoda was not about to argue. In fact, she changed the subject and asked Mary if she had found a place to live since her husband decided he wanted to move. I heard about the acreage she no longer wanted, the pool that cost $2,000 a year to maintain, and the new neighborhood near the lake with low HOA fees. The dress was a no-go, but Mary found pants that looked like pajamas. She could see herself wearing them on the couch drinking hot chocolate. She also said that her other friends say her clothing choices are boring because she always wears dark colors, but she did recently buy a pair of fun, white pants. (So, there's hope.) Rhoda said it's so much more fun to shop with a friend than it is to shop alone. (You're so right, Rhoda!) I was this close to joining their conversation; we had so much in common. I got stuck in a dress once. I told my sister she might have to get a pair of scissors and cut me out of it; she couldn't stop laughing. I'm not sure how I ever did get out of that dress. (Grace of God.) I also like hot chocolate, had an expensive pool, and can appreciate an HOA for cheap. But I decided it was probably not appropriate to join their conversation. (Maybe if my name was Phyllis.) So, I tried on my selections, found a keeper, and left. What do you think... should I have chimed in? Have you ever been stuck in an article of clothing you were trying on? Oh, if (dressing room) walls could talk.

The Holiday Cafe

Welcome to The Holiday Cafe. Follow me. I have a wonderful seat for you, right next to the Christmas tree. I see you brought your own plate... and it's already full. Well then, let's focus on your empty cup. What would you like? Hot chocolate? Egg nog? Peppermint tea? Maybe I could interest you in my favorite- our homemade wassail; it's a family tradition. My husband and I discovered the recipe during our travels and now he makes it at even the hint of cool weather. The aroma alone is enough to calm the most frazzled shopper and put a smile on the face of the scroogiest of scrooges. Wonderful! Wassail it is! It's hot, so sip it carefully. Oh, I love this song! Don't you? Nat King Cole is the best. Although, I can't say I've ever roasted chestnuts on an open fire. I'm not even sure I could tell the difference between a chestnut and a regular nut. Speaking of regular nuts, it's time for me to take a break. How 'bout I grab a cup and join you? No one should experience The Holiday alone.

A Match Made In Heaven (Part 5)

She never really liked football. She had been to a few games after school to show her team spirit. But when he called to invite her to the game and offered to pick her up, she knew team spirit had nothing to do with it; this was an actual date. She can remember him standing behind her at the game with his hands on her shoulders. And she remembers when he offered her his jacket because she was cold. However, she has no idea who won the game. Over the next three months, there were several dates with friends or family. It was immediately obvious to her that he was the one; she even told her friends. It took him a little longer to be sure. But when his grandma said, “She’s a keeper,” he knew. Apparently, grandmas know a match made in heaven when they see one. This year, on July 27, they will celebrate thirty-two years of marriage.

To be continued… forever.

*In loving memory of the matchmakers: Ruth Steinmo and Leona Carlsward

A Match Made In Heaven (Part 4)

If you’ve ever spent time with a couple who has been married for a while, one question usually comes up, “How did you meet?” Love involves mystery and intrigue. Two people are experiencing the same thing, but are processing it differently; and most of the time, they have no idea what the other one is thinking or feeling. It usually takes a while before the couple is comfortable enough to share their feelings with each other. Do you remember grade school? Back then, things were as simple as a note and two little boxes. The note said, “Do you like me? Check yes or no.” Well, adulting is a little more complicated, and adults are apparently more afraid of getting hurt than children are. The reason we ask couples how they met is because we want to hear the details of how their paths crossed. We want to want to hear what he was thinking when she was thinking something entirely different. We want to hear about how they almost missed finding each other but somehow did. In the Bible, God told Adam that it was not good to be alone. I guess there’s a little bit of a hopeless romantic in all of us and it was placed there by God. Well, she certainly was the romantic type, but it seemed to be getting her nowhere. Cue the film back to the day the tears ended. She had finally surrendered her first love to the Lord. (Her decision was confirmed when said love called and announced he was returning to his hometown to finish college. He suggested a long-distance relationship, but she knew what God wanted her to do, and that wasn’t it.) Weeks had passed and the pain was ebbing away. On this particular afternoon, she was lying on the couch, resting after a long day at school, when the phone rang. It was him. Yes, him. No. Not the “him” who moved away, the “him” who didn’t want to date a girl who already had a boyfriend. But she didn’t have a boyfriend now, and she hadn’t had one for a while.

To be continued…

A Match Made In Heaven (Part 3)

Remember when I told you she was about to be set up by God Himself? Well, everyone knows, God uses people. Right? And in this case, he used a mother and daughter from neighboring churches. One Halloween night, the two neighboring churches decided to throw a party for the children in town. At the Halloween party or rather, Hallelujah party, her grandma marched over to a very fun-loving young man wearing overalls and a hat adorned with hands that clapped with the pull of a string. This was a children’s party, after all, and this young man was the children’s pastor. I know, I know, this love story is not filled with the usual romantic trappings. Try to hang in there, it gets better, I promise. Anyway, Grandma suggested that he ask this young lady out on a sort of, date. He wasn’t really interested in dating her because he knew she already had a boyfriend. However, he agreed to meet her at a Bible study he attended. She was shy, but she agreed because Grandma thought it was a good idea. When the evening of the Bible study came, she found herself in a room full of people she didn’t know. There was a line of empty chairs, so she sat down in one, assuming he would sit beside her. Instead, he sat on the couch, squeezing between his brother and his brother’s wife. Then, when the study ended and it was time for snacks, he disappeared into another room, leaving her with a bunch of strangers. She eventually said goodbye, with little hope of seeing him again.

To be continued…

A Match Made In Heaven (Part 2)

Origin stories are popular these days. I suppose they always have been. Even the Bible starts with the words, “In the beginning…” Established civilizations, organizations, and even great loves started somewhere. Her love story was no different.

Rewind to age thirteen. Up until that point, she had only been kissed once by a boy, and she promptly smacked his face! It was a knee-jerk reaction, the result of mere shock! That relationship did not last long. It was just as well because a few months later, she moved away. Leaving your childhood friends, and family is a heartbreak that never heals.

No longer surrounded by familiar faces and surroundings, she tried to adjust to a new home, new school, new friends, and living with a stepdad again. As the school year passed, it was time to move again. Another school year, another move. The only thing that stayed the same was her new church family. They adopted her, along with her mom and sister. They became aunts, uncles, grandmas, and friends. She grew in her faith there and she grew up too.

From time to time, her church teamed up with another church in town to host community events; her adopted grandma had family and friends there. It wasn’t long before Grandma decided to play matchmaker. It was at Halloween, as a matter of fact.

To be continued…

A Match Made In Heaven (Part 1)

During the not-so-magical age of adolescence, she lay in bed next to her cousin, dreaming out loud about what she wanted from life. She could count on one hand the number of good marriages she knew; marriage wasn’t on her list. All she wanted was sliding glass doors, a boyfriend, and a dog. This was a serious conversation between the dearest friends. There were no giggles, just stare-at-the-ceiling ponderings spoken quietly at night when they were supposed to be sleeping.

Fast forward past the first crush, short-lived, high school romances, and first love. She did learn a few things along the way. She learned how easy it is to lose yourself and get caught up in pleasing someone else. She learned that lust and love are two very different things. One walks beside you, gently holding your hand. The other pulls and drags you to places you don't want to go. Fast forward past regret and repentance.

It was during the scene on forgiveness that she found true love. No, it’s not what you’re thinking, it wasn’t another human, it was God himself. He told her to make a choice. Would she choose her first love; the one she couldn’t bear to be without; the one who was pulling away from God? Or would she choose the love she met as a child; the love that didn’t demand performance; the love she could trust; the love that would help her become who she was meant to be? He was always there when things went wrong, and they often did. She talked to Him when she was afraid, and she often was. She talked to Him often, about things she would never tell a soul. Yes, He was the right choice, and she knew it. But the right choices are not always easy, especially when they follow a string of wrong ones. He comforted her during the many weeks of tears that followed.

And then one day, she stopped crying. She would be hard-pressed to circle that day on a calendar, but it was a day worth remembering. She was getting older. High school was coming to an end. But there was college and a career to think about; and in the back of her mind, there was also one young man. He was a few years older than she was, and their paths had only crossed once or twice. The first time she saw him, he was wearing a black turtleneck that perfectly matched his wavy, dark hair. There was something special about him. She admired his passion for God. Yes, he was handsome, she wouldn’t deny that, but that wasn’t what drew her in. One day, coming home from school, she told a friend how she felt about him, and that friend encouraged her to pray about it. In all the days she had been talking to God, letting go of her sadness, and allowing Him to mend her broken heart, the subject of a new love never came up. She had put God first, above her human need for affection. She was exactly where she needed to be. She was about to be set up by God Himself.  

To be continued…

A Tale of Fire & Ice

A snowflake said to a flame,

“Hello. Who are you? What’s your name?”

The flame, pretending not to hear,

Said to the snowflake, I need to come near.

Said the flake to the flame, “You shouldn’t.”

Said the flame to the flake, “Who wouldn’t?”

You’re unique, special, and one of a kind.

I’ve admired your beauty for quite some time.

The snowflake, flattered and intrigued,

Said to the flame, “Yes, sit next to me.”

As they sat there together, one could already see,

A dramatic change in the snowflake’s beauty.

Her dazzling white fell to the ground,

In deep pools of water, without a sound.

To stay with the flame would be her demise,

But the flame said he loved her, and she wasn’t so wise.

The flame wasn’t innocent, he knew how she felt.

Yet, he sat right there and watched her melt.

Cookies In The Elevator

Sometimes I take the stairs, but not today. I mean, it wasn’t like I didn’t need to take them. I had been sitting for hours; sitting and waiting. And with random people handing out free dessert, I needed the stairs today more than ever. Yes, there were times I stood, only to sit right back down again. I was greeting friends, old and new. Standing is almost exercise. And what about anticipation? Anticipation does excite the heart. Yes, we waited with much anticipation this morning; anticipation and joy. Joy was the other sweet treat distributed freely among us.

“Is she coming? Is it time?” “Almost. It’s taking a little longer than we expected,” he said. “It’s worth the wait,” I thought. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything!” I clutched my gift bag and smiled at the contents. Laughter and stories were shared; and then finally it was time.

“Are your cameras ready? Someone needs to get a video of this moment!” Someone? How about all of us?! With iCameras in hand, we silently huddled together straining for a glimpse of her. First came the husband in white and then her caregivers in blue. Then we saw her! “Yay!” we yelled. She almost didn’t see us. Her eyes were focused on one thing. She had been waiting for this moment. None of us will ever know how much. A few instructions were given and then she grabbed the rope; and moving it swiftly from side to side, she rang the bell! Yes. We heard it. We were standing there with her. But oh how it must have reverberated inside her. There were tears, of course. Tears of joy. Streams of victory and breaths of sweet release. Then one by one she hugged us all. She showed us her certificate of completion and her memorial bell. It didn’t ring very loudly- something she was determined to correct later. Then with one last look at her surroundings, in solidarity we walked toward the shiny, silver doors. All of us. And placing her in the center next to her little loves, we closed the doors, literally and figuratively; and ate cookies in the elevator.

For Shari. Thanking God she is now cancer free!

My Aunt Reenie

My Aunt, Irene was easily the most beautiful woman I had ever seen with my own two eyes. Teresa Smith was a close second.

My cousin used to go my Aunt Irene’s house without me. I didn't know when she was going. I just knew when she came back.

In all my years, I only went to Aunt Reenie's house a handful of times. Usually because someone needed to use the phone. And she had one.

Aunt Reenie had a vicious, pekingese dog appropriately named, "Rowdy." (Rowdy is the southern word for vicious.) Whenever I went there, Rowdy was always outside in the yard on his leash, and he would bark up a storm at the sight of me!

Mouthy dogs always scared me as a kid, and Rowdy was no exception. But I so wanted to go into Aunt Reenie's house; so I would wait nervously at the gate until she came out and calmed Rowdy down. Then I would run through the yard and up the steps to my Aunt Reenie's porch.

Aunt Reenie's house was always so clean and organized. She had wooden, plank floors that were always waxed and shiny. She had a couch and a coffee table that got pushed out of the way when she did her aerobics. (The coffee table, not the couch.) I don't remember much about the kitchen, except that's where the phone was. She also had a modern washer and dryer, not a washing machine with a washtub, like the one on Mamaw's porch. In my mind, I always thought of Aunt Reenie's house as a "real" house.

My Uncle Melvin drove a Mack truck full of coal. Driving a coal truck or being a coal miner were the only man-jobs I knew of as a kid. Later, I would find out about car salesmen, but that's a different story. I always thought my Aunt Reenie was rich.

Aunt Reenie had beautiful hair. She was as beautiful as Dolly Parton. Everyone said Aunt Reenie wore wigs. I guess I never did see my Aunt Reenie's natural hair. Aunt Reenie's make-up was even more perfect. Long, dark lashes, rosy cheeks and full, shiny lips every time I saw her. Every. Time. Did I mention, she was the most beautiful woman I ever... Oh yeah, I did. Well she was.

I never understood why I didn't get to go to my Aunt Irene’s house when my cousin did.

My Aunt Reenie was always nice to me. She even let me smoke her cigarette once. I asked her if I could try it, and when she was sure I really wanted to, she handed it to me. I put it in my mouth. I was smoking Aunt Reenie's cigarette! (I thought I was something.) Then she told me to take a deep breath in. It was the nastiest thing I ever tasted! Not to mention, I almost choked to death! My Aunt Reenie took the cigarette back, and she never said a word about it. She's the reason I never smoked.

My Aunt Reenie used to take us to beach. She had a tan that would rival Lonnie Anderson's. I should know, my uncle Stevie had a poster of Lonnie on his wall. Or maybe it was Farah Fawcett. Either way, my Aunt Reenie's tan met the highest standards.

My Aunt Reenie also bought me my first record. Oh, I paid for it myself. It cost me a dollar, forty five. But my Aunt Reenie got it for me. She was going across the mountain into town, and she picked it up for me. Hungry Like The Wolf by Duran Duran. It was a single. It had a green label. I don't remember the song on the other side.

I get emotional when I look back at my Aunt Reenie. We moved away when I was 14. The adult me never got to know her. Sure, we visited a few times after we moved, but you can't build a relationship in a couple of hours once a decade.

I will always look at my Aunt Reenie with kid-eyes. My memories of her are preserved in time. She will always be beautiful. She will always be fashionable. She will always be admired.

And, like all my mother's sisters, she will always be one of my favorites. I love you, Aunt Reenie.