Lost it . . .or not

You know, I thought I had lost it.  With moving and all, being in a bigger city, not really knowing anyone, it would make sense that I had lost it.  In fact, I had been so busy that I really wasn't even aware that it was gone.  Until I ended up standing in line at Target for some caramel pop corn last week.

You probably never noticed that I even had one.  I don't think people generally see it, but it is there.  Clearly visible to some at least.  But, then again, I don't know that they are even aware of it.  It is this sign I have printed on my forehead that says "You can tell her anything."  I used to wonder why people shared their intimate thoughts, their past transgressions, their fears, or loneliness with me.  I am no one special, I can't fix anything, I might be a moderate listener, but nothing more.  I have decided that there must be a sign on my forehead letting them know that it is "okay" to share their deepest, darkest secrets with a relatively safe, seventy plus grandma.  It is kind of like putting your kid in the car . . . suddenly things you never knew about come pouring our of their mouths.  Works with grandkids too.

So as I patiently waited for my caramel corn at Target behind two younger people, I smiled at the cashier as she rang up their purchases.   When it was my turn she leaned forward over the counter and motioned me to join her . . . "In our day", she said with our heads huddled over the counter, "young people let the elderly go first."  I think I was actually a little offended at that, even though I knew she meant well.  But then she began talking about getting older, how was she going to take care of herself, the rent kept going up, she had no husband and so on.  I just nodded and smiled.  What do you do?  Agree?  Assure? Ignore?  Why me?  I am quite sure my sign was blinking neon red.  I just can't seem to turn it on and off when I want.  I don't mind listening, but some occasions and places are just awkward.  I agreed with her, took my popcorn and left.  I will probably never see her again, but she has stuck in my mind.  She has no name, address or any other pertinent information for me to help her . . .  but I can and will pray for her.  And maybe that is the only reason for our encounter.

Do you ever wonder at those chance encounters in life?  Do you even pay attention?  I never used to, but I am getting better at it.  I overheard a friend telling someone many years ago "Anything you tell her, will stay with her."  I thought that a little odd because I don't feel it is true of myself.  I gossip just like anyone else, spread the news, question people's judgements or actions, truly wonder at their opinions sometimes.  Often, in my little ironing room at Twelve Baskets, people would show up just to talk.  And we discussed everything!  But most often it was personal, painful, frustrating or irritating for them.  Or it was spiritual in nature.  I am not a counselor, nor do I try to be one.  I think most people just need to voice their problems to figure out how to deal with them.  They can do it.  They just need a face in front of them to listen, arms to hold them when they hurt, a smile to lift their spirit, and assurance that they are not alone because God loves them.

In some ways it was nice to know my "sign" is still working.  I am truly awed that God would grant me this gift.  It is still a puzzlement.  I suspect the light won't go off until I am no longer here on earth.  And who knows, perhaps even then it will be remembered.  Perhaps someone else will pick up the "sign" and continue on down the road.  Never cast aside a gift, even if you don't think it is what you want or even need.  Trust that God knows what he is doing.

Just Writin' on the River Road

A New Year. A New Life

I have been spoiled for the last fifteen years.  I had a spacious home in the country with lots of room to roam.  Life has changed.  I never expected to get old(er), nor did I ever think I wouldn't be capable of doing some of the things I love.  But it is so . . . and I have to face the music.

We finally sold our home with the huge cowboy porch that sat on the bank of the Snake River.  The house came with the porch . . . but it was the porch which I bought.  And it was a deal!  It has hosted church services, breakfasts, potlucks,   parties, graduations, baptisms, family, and oh, so much time sitting in my swing reading a great book.  How could I leave it?   It was a long, well thought out decision, one that had practicality written all over it.  Even when you love something, if you can't take care of it adequately, it hurts to watch it deteriorate.  The first to go were my animals: the horse, the cows, the goats, the dogs, and lastly my chickens.  The passagae of each of those left a vacancy in my life.  Then came the war with weeds that I could not come close to winning.  And add to that the upkeep of the buildings and taking care of irrigation, so for all the practical reasons, we had to downsize.

Will I miss it?  Absolutely!  But it helps to know that the new owners "love" it as much as I did.  And they have youth on their side to keep it up and running.  They will be a good addition  to the community.  They have plans, which is good.  Everything has to evolve and grow.

As I looked around at those empty rooms one last time before I left, it no longer felt like home.  My things were gone, the walls were bare, even the memories had begun to fade.   But I have been blessed.  I have gone from spacious to cozy.  And perhaps that is good.  Less upkeep, less work, less stuff.  I have decided that "home"is where ever my "stuff" is, those things that are family heirlooms, gifts given to me, stuff that is comfortable, even my own bed.  Will I adapt?  Probably very well in the end.  Right now I am still figuring things out.  Each day is a challenge to find the necessities that make this new place "work".

God is not without knowing my desires.  We went from eight acres on the river to a half acre with a creek in back.  I even have a mallard and his mistress in that water behind my house.  There are many trees, a gazebo for my swing, and the anticipation of seeing what will pop out of the ground next spring.  All new and yet comfortable.  

What I will miss most are the people.   I will miss my Bed and Breakfast guests.  Each and everyone of them were interesting and delightful.  Some were funny, some became family before they left our home, all of them brought "arm chair travel" to my door. Not only did they provide spending money, they left me with memories and friendships that will never be lost.  I will also miss my community.  It was wonderful to walk down the street and know or recognize almost everyone I met.  To have people recognize my face and know my name is a trait unique to small towns.  What I miss most is Twelve Baskets, the non-profit that we three "crazy ladies" founded nearly ten years ago.  Oh, I don't miss the physical labor (my back is profoundly grateful), or the hassle of sorting goods and labeling items. I miss my customers. Over the years, many have become more than just customers, they have become very special to me in one way or another.  It took time to establish those relationships, a treasured time.  Relationships will happen again, but those people will always remain in a secreted place in my heart.

I am  looking forward.  Never one to let grass grow under my feet, I am already planning for the future.  There is so much to do, so many things to try, so many places yet unexplored . . . there is not enough time for everything.  Bittersweet.  That word says it all.  I am looking forward to new people who will enrich my life, to trying new things, and learning and growing . . . but still treasure the memories of all of those people who already made a difference, changed me, encouraged me, or lifted me up when I had hit the bottom.  I will never lose all I have gained from them! They will go with me for the rest of my life.

Just Writin' on the River Road