Born in Sylva, North Carolina on May 8, 1915. She was crass and kind, steel and silk, tender and tart. She would soothe your fears and whip you into shape with the lash of her trusty tongue as fast as you could blink. She stood a mere 5'3, just like me, her first born granddaugther. Though nothing to brag about, we are the tallest females in the bunch. I have her hands, her feet, her sweet tooth, her love of the mountains and few other features that will remain unnamed. Though born a beach bum, I love to make a run for the mountains every chance I get. I think she is the reason why. We loved to watch the sunset from her opened bedroom window as we listened to her old iron bladed box fan and felt the night breeze as it gave our skin a slight chill. There was nothing better in this world than waking to the smell of her egg gravy (egg gravy= a mountain woman's trick for making a meal go farther especially during The Great Depression).
I've always associated myself with being more like my daddy. It is true that Dad and I have similar strengths and similar struggles. We both have big hearts; and we both have a hard time saying "no". Yet, every once in awhile I'll see my bullheaded grandma rise up in me. I'll see that she deposited a bit of herself into my soul too. I've been told I'm a doctor's nightmare, because I don't listen, although I do make an attempt.
My grandma was such a big part of our lives. As a little girl I remember praying for God to never take my grandmother before me. I thought I would die without her. She was our Nanny, our friend, our prayer warrior and the tanner of our hides when we needed it. She was the epitome of a mountain woman. No frills, no makeup, no fancy clothes; but that woman would work her hands to the bone and give you the shirt off her back if you needed it.
As this sometimes bullheaded product of my grandma was driving today (yes...not really supposed to be yet as my foot is still healing...but I can't stand to be told "no" or feel pinned in...), I found myself in front of her house. I'm not really sure how I made the wrong turn and ended up there, but it was a pleasant serendipity. I recalled her and an instance when she nursed me. It was one of the sweetest memories I have of her. I had spent the day working at a summer camp. I was eight months pregnant and we were outside at the pool, and I was in the sun all day (yes...bullheaded...that I am). It was hot. I was huge. I was miserable, and my ivory legs were blistered almost instantly. I remember that it was on a Wednesday, and I had to go to church that night looking like a lobster. I went into her house right after work, as was my routine. She saw me. She didn't fuss. She just said, "Lisa, you go straight in that bedroom and lie down. I'll be there shortly." Bless! She always knew just how to fix anything from broken toys to broken people. She bathed my legs in aloe and time and again dipped her wash cloth into ice cold water that she gently applied to my legs so as to absorb the heat. She worked relentlessly. It felt wonderful. She pulled the heat from legs. Though I was still red the next day, the pain was very minimal. It's fastest I've ever healed from a sunburn.
As I sat in front of what used to be her door, I knew that if I could have walked to that door and knocked on it, today and if I could have had her open it...she would have spoken only a few words and got right to nursing her stubborn granddaughter's foot. She wouldn't have fussed at me for being a headstrong, She would have known that I inherited that bit of a rebel streak from her. Oh the tales that I heard: the times she rode shot gun on the back of a motorcycle in the sleet down the mountains, the times she had to show that she could out hammer or out chop a man, the way she refused to let breast cancer beat her even though she was a young woman and medicine hadn't advanced as much as it has now, etc., etc., etc.
If she were alive, she'd be 100 years old this Friday May 8 the day before Carter's 3rd birthday and eleven days before what would have been my dad's birthday. She was such a fighter and lived to be to 90 years old. She was healthy and alert up until her last few months. She was an amazing woman, and I miss her! She would have loved Carter! She would have loved Mari! They would have loved her!
Reflecting on her the past few days and the things she overcame has gotten me to thinking about scars and life. I have had several surgeries, like my grandma and mama, but unlike them, vanity causes me to hate the scars that are left. I have tried to apply creams to lighten them or camouflage them as best I can. Today, though I saw this quote and it gave me a new appreciation for scars, "Never be ashamed of a scar. It simply means you were stronger than whatever it was that tried to hurt you" Unknown Author.
Forty two years into this one shot deal called life, ten years without my grandma and almost one year without my dad, have me thankful for the first time for scars and thankful for bullheaded women! I miss you grandma with all my soul! Happy almost 100th! I have no doubt you'll be celebrating with my daddy!
Love you, your Ladybug!
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Saturday, April 25, 2015
Hey Hue! You're Just Like Me!
It's a mystery to me how I can go to one nail salon and request Bubble Bath gel nail polish and when I request the exact some thing at another salon, the shades are entirely different. How can that be? Well, it's all about the hue. Some shades have a different gradation due to a little more black or a little more white in the color scheme. Fortunately, I am not high maintenance where this is concerned. I usually just wait to see what I will be surprised with...kind of like Forest Gump and his box of chocolates. Today was one such surprising day for me. It was surprising in many regards.
I worked at a high school near South Carolina, today; and knowing that my next 72 hours are slammed with almost every moment accounted for, I had to get a mani/pedi right quick like and in a hurry, as my grandma would say, if it was going to be a reality. Otherwise, I would need to wait several weeks as the result of an upcoming medical procedure. So, I thought what better idea than to go to SC, cross the border and just get lost. I can go where NOBODY knows my name. What a novel idea. Well, as it turns out...not so novel. Everyone and their brother was getting pedi/mani's today. I went to three locations before I found a salon that was not slammed, and at this one there was even a double date with a couple whose fellas were getting a pedicure for their first time. They were hysterical and provided quite a bit of entertainment for my experience. There is nothing like seeing their men folks' faces when the hot paraffin wax is placed on their feet! Priceless! Guys have no clue what we do to look natural!
When I first arrived at this salon, I knew the atmosphere felt different. It was alive with the laughter of these couples, the stories of a public preschool teacher from somewhere in the area, young ladies giggling on their cell phones and muffled sounds of music from the earbuds of an iPhone that were actively engaged by its owner. I liked it! Across the room I saw an attractive Asian man with quite an impressive gun show. I have never seen biceps quite that large on someone his statue. It was fascinating. I figured with that kind of strength, he could give a great pedicure without getting fatigued. Through later conversations, I discovered that he was computer engineer who worked his way through college as a nail technician and enjoys doing nails on the weekends to raise extra money for his wife and five year old daughter. Yes...I would pick him...but wait!?! Too late. I was being "the picked" before I had the chance to be "the picker". It was a timid, tiny (and I mean tiny) Asian woman who spoke so softly that I had to strain to hear her. Her English was very good, but her projection was slight. She smiled a lot, and I could tell her thoughts were very deep and that she rarely dabbled in small talk or shallow conversations. She wasn't my first choice due to her size, but my later observation yielded promise. I don't like to be asked general questions during beauty sessions. Just let me think. I assessed that she would comply quite naturally with my need for quiet. So, I thought, "This could be okay."
She did an outstanding job on my feet. She was so meticulous and so thorough. She only spoke to make sure I was satisfied with various parts of the process. I even closed my eyes at one point to savor it...and I never close my eyes at pedi/mani. She made me feel comfortable, and I felt I understood her. I don't believe in hocus pocus or magic or fortune tellers, but I do believe in Divine appointments and Divine promptings where you just are imparted knowledge that you couldn't know without some impartation from Someone bigger than you. This was such a day for me.
The pedicure being finished, we moved to the manicure. She didn't ask me personal questions or probe into my business with small talk (I hate that...don't ask me if I'm married, where I work, how many kids I have, etc. if we just met in a setting where I am paying for service from you. It's not bad. It's just not enjoyable to me.) Later though, she did begin to share about herself. Easing in at first and waiting for my nudging to affirm that I wanted her to share more, I learned that she had a third grade little girl who had a hard time as an ELL (English Language Learner) student--a little girl who used to hate to read, because she didn't understand the language---a little girl who now can't put a book down. Her mother was so proud. I learned that 'Mr. Impressive Gun Show" was actually the brother-in-law of my manicurist and that her husband was the music man who was absorbed in his iPhone. I learned that 15 years ago, when my husband, James, taught at Hunter Huss, she was a student there. She never knew him, and I was saddened to find that her experience was not that pleasant. I learned that she knows the exact Asian markets to buy rice and from which ones to purchase meat, and that it is well worth the drive to obtain your Asian cuisine from just the right store. I learned that she is proud of how well her daughter speaks Vietnamese and that it is sad to her when her daughter and the young cousins get together and only use English to communicate. I learned that her name was Lisa just like mine! Wow! At first, I thought I was misunderstanding when people were calling her name, but no...it was true! We were the same name!
As our conversation continued I was curious if Lisa's daughter was still in ESL (English as a Second Language) or if she had exited the program. I was told that she was in the program but that she spent less time with the ESL teacher now. I wanted to know what qualified her daughter for continuation in ESL so I could offer some support. Was the continued placement due to needing assistance with: Reading, Writing, Speaking or Listening (The 4 necessary language skills)? Lisa said, "It is..compre...com...compre...C...". I said, "Was it comprehension?" She said yes, and we tried to pronounce it together a few times. She said, "What comprehension mean?" I explained that it means understanding and knowing what you've read or heard in a way that you could successfully retell it to someone else.
Throughout the course of our conversation, I liked her more and more. In the back of my mind, I kept wondering what her name was before it was Lisa. I kept feeling prompted to ask, but how could I do that? I might embarrass her. I certainly didn't want her to feel like I didn't think Vietnamese could have American names, but something kept prompting me to ask. I know that prodding that says, "If you follow Me, this could be really good. Why don't you stop resisting and pulling against Me or you'll miss this moment." Finally, I just bit the bullet and said, "Lisa, what was the name you were born with? What did your parents name you?" She looked at me and said, "It's what you said." When you said "Understand" that is how you say my name. It is pronounced 'Hue'. If you raise voice at the end...it is my name. If you lower voice at the end...it means 'understand'. I write for you to show you." She sure did! I took a picture of it. We practiced. She instructed me, and I was an attentive student. What were the chances that we were having a conversation with so much connection and so much foreshadowing.
When I got home I looked up both hieu's. One is generally a boy's name that means respected or admired. The other means to digest something, to be savvy or to understand. What an amazing day! Like my dad, I've always found people easy to love and usually find some special gem inside of everyone. I have a big heart and couldn't function in an environment where I couldn't use that gift. I wouldn't want to even try. I love watching people. They are beautiful. Today, I was reminded of several things:
I worked at a high school near South Carolina, today; and knowing that my next 72 hours are slammed with almost every moment accounted for, I had to get a mani/pedi right quick like and in a hurry, as my grandma would say, if it was going to be a reality. Otherwise, I would need to wait several weeks as the result of an upcoming medical procedure. So, I thought what better idea than to go to SC, cross the border and just get lost. I can go where NOBODY knows my name. What a novel idea. Well, as it turns out...not so novel. Everyone and their brother was getting pedi/mani's today. I went to three locations before I found a salon that was not slammed, and at this one there was even a double date with a couple whose fellas were getting a pedicure for their first time. They were hysterical and provided quite a bit of entertainment for my experience. There is nothing like seeing their men folks' faces when the hot paraffin wax is placed on their feet! Priceless! Guys have no clue what we do to look natural!
When I first arrived at this salon, I knew the atmosphere felt different. It was alive with the laughter of these couples, the stories of a public preschool teacher from somewhere in the area, young ladies giggling on their cell phones and muffled sounds of music from the earbuds of an iPhone that were actively engaged by its owner. I liked it! Across the room I saw an attractive Asian man with quite an impressive gun show. I have never seen biceps quite that large on someone his statue. It was fascinating. I figured with that kind of strength, he could give a great pedicure without getting fatigued. Through later conversations, I discovered that he was computer engineer who worked his way through college as a nail technician and enjoys doing nails on the weekends to raise extra money for his wife and five year old daughter. Yes...I would pick him...but wait!?! Too late. I was being "the picked" before I had the chance to be "the picker". It was a timid, tiny (and I mean tiny) Asian woman who spoke so softly that I had to strain to hear her. Her English was very good, but her projection was slight. She smiled a lot, and I could tell her thoughts were very deep and that she rarely dabbled in small talk or shallow conversations. She wasn't my first choice due to her size, but my later observation yielded promise. I don't like to be asked general questions during beauty sessions. Just let me think. I assessed that she would comply quite naturally with my need for quiet. So, I thought, "This could be okay."
She did an outstanding job on my feet. She was so meticulous and so thorough. She only spoke to make sure I was satisfied with various parts of the process. I even closed my eyes at one point to savor it...and I never close my eyes at pedi/mani. She made me feel comfortable, and I felt I understood her. I don't believe in hocus pocus or magic or fortune tellers, but I do believe in Divine appointments and Divine promptings where you just are imparted knowledge that you couldn't know without some impartation from Someone bigger than you. This was such a day for me.
The pedicure being finished, we moved to the manicure. She didn't ask me personal questions or probe into my business with small talk (I hate that...don't ask me if I'm married, where I work, how many kids I have, etc. if we just met in a setting where I am paying for service from you. It's not bad. It's just not enjoyable to me.) Later though, she did begin to share about herself. Easing in at first and waiting for my nudging to affirm that I wanted her to share more, I learned that she had a third grade little girl who had a hard time as an ELL (English Language Learner) student--a little girl who used to hate to read, because she didn't understand the language---a little girl who now can't put a book down. Her mother was so proud. I learned that 'Mr. Impressive Gun Show" was actually the brother-in-law of my manicurist and that her husband was the music man who was absorbed in his iPhone. I learned that 15 years ago, when my husband, James, taught at Hunter Huss, she was a student there. She never knew him, and I was saddened to find that her experience was not that pleasant. I learned that she knows the exact Asian markets to buy rice and from which ones to purchase meat, and that it is well worth the drive to obtain your Asian cuisine from just the right store. I learned that she is proud of how well her daughter speaks Vietnamese and that it is sad to her when her daughter and the young cousins get together and only use English to communicate. I learned that her name was Lisa just like mine! Wow! At first, I thought I was misunderstanding when people were calling her name, but no...it was true! We were the same name!
As our conversation continued I was curious if Lisa's daughter was still in ESL (English as a Second Language) or if she had exited the program. I was told that she was in the program but that she spent less time with the ESL teacher now. I wanted to know what qualified her daughter for continuation in ESL so I could offer some support. Was the continued placement due to needing assistance with: Reading, Writing, Speaking or Listening (The 4 necessary language skills)? Lisa said, "It is..compre...com...compre...C...". I said, "Was it comprehension?" She said yes, and we tried to pronounce it together a few times. She said, "What comprehension mean?" I explained that it means understanding and knowing what you've read or heard in a way that you could successfully retell it to someone else.
Throughout the course of our conversation, I liked her more and more. In the back of my mind, I kept wondering what her name was before it was Lisa. I kept feeling prompted to ask, but how could I do that? I might embarrass her. I certainly didn't want her to feel like I didn't think Vietnamese could have American names, but something kept prompting me to ask. I know that prodding that says, "If you follow Me, this could be really good. Why don't you stop resisting and pulling against Me or you'll miss this moment." Finally, I just bit the bullet and said, "Lisa, what was the name you were born with? What did your parents name you?" She looked at me and said, "It's what you said." When you said "Understand" that is how you say my name. It is pronounced 'Hue'. If you raise voice at the end...it is my name. If you lower voice at the end...it means 'understand'. I write for you to show you." She sure did! I took a picture of it. We practiced. She instructed me, and I was an attentive student. What were the chances that we were having a conversation with so much connection and so much foreshadowing.
When I got home I looked up both hieu's. One is generally a boy's name that means respected or admired. The other means to digest something, to be savvy or to understand. What an amazing day! Like my dad, I've always found people easy to love and usually find some special gem inside of everyone. I have a big heart and couldn't function in an environment where I couldn't use that gift. I wouldn't want to even try. I love watching people. They are beautiful. Today, I was reminded of several things:
- Crossing the border away from your home can sometimes bring you closer to home
- Love, savor and celebrate the moment you're in---this has been a challenge for an ADD, Type A, female...but the payoff is always well worth it
- Never hold back your heart...even at risk of being broken...love, love, love...serve, serve, serve...and give, give, give.
- Today I refreshed and loved students. They returned this to me. I refreshed and loved a beautiful, mysterious and fascinating manicurist...she did the same for me. "He who refreshes others will himself be refreshed."
- Finally, it's all about the hue. All the colors, connections and compliments make a beautiful tapestry. We need diversity and differences, but it's important to take a little extra time to celebrate that magical moment when your hue stumbles upon someone who may have a different culture, a different background...but underneath the label...they really have the same hue as you!
Hey Hue! Look over here! You're just like me!
My hieu lessons on ordinary receipt paper filled with Lisa's other notes. There is a good chance she is interested in saving trees too! I can tell by how little space is left on this paper. She is using up every space
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
Route Recalcuate
I've been pondering this phrase for several days now. As one with a writer's heart, albeit pretty amateur, that's how we do it. Something hits us, sparks a fire and we have to wait until the right moment to kindle it. That moment was, today, for me. It all begin on a trip to Buffalo. Those who know me will attest to the fact that you can spin me around in my back yard a couple of times, and I'm as lost as last year's Easter egg. A sense of direction has somehow alluded me. I've never really minded though. Sometimes getting lost with the right person is half the fun.
It was raining in Buffalo. It was dark. My GPS was not the most user friendly, and wouldn't you just know that two main roads that we needed for Chrissie and I to return to our hotel were blocked off. We were assured by the barricade of police officers that passage would not be possible. They rerouted us. We had no choice. Whatever our plans were, however strong our protest, it didn't matter. We were being rerouted. We were experiencing an unplanned change. Our GPS began shouting out commands. She was trying to help us. Unfortunately, we could not yield to her commands for us to turn around. There were several other inaccessible roads, so we had to continue against her wishes and much to her displeasure. She continued to bark, "Route recalculate"..."Route recalculate"..."Route recalculate". At one point, she seemed to be so disgusted with us that she literally threw a barrage of spaghetti lines on the map and refused to speak. It was any man's guess...a free for all at that point. We had to manage for a moment without her. We had to go with our gut and Chrissie's sense of direction.
It sort of reminded me of life. How many route recalculations have we had? Some by choice...some very much not our choice. Yet, route recalculate we must in this life. The past 11 months have been among the hardest I have ever experienced. Today is exactly 11 months since my dad died, and with each passing day I dread next month with all my soul, as it will be the year anniversary. I can still remember holding his hand and kissing him just a few hours prior. I remember how he looked at me with such love. I have had moments when I did not know who I was, this past year or where I belonged. I have had moments when I didn't recognize my family. I've had moments when I felt I could run and run and never stop. As we must, with any loss, people have to evolve, adapt and change a bit. This has been painful. I miss my life, and I desperately miss my daddy.
I had a moment this morning where I was 50/50 about staying home from work. I honestly didn't know if I had the stamina to leave my house and face the world or serve as I needed to, today. This is a rare moment for me, and I usually work through it pretty nicely. I needed my dad, today. I needed him to say everything will be okay with this upcoming surgery, that the "route recalculations" for my children are for the best, that Carter is going to be just fine, that the decisions I've made in regards to things the last few weeks will work out. I needed him to say, "We can handle this. We're gonna be okay." I needed to be his little girl again. I DO NOT want this route recalculation. I change my mind. I want to go through the barricade in spite of who's blocking it. I want to refuse to comply. I want to say, NO! But we don't get that choice. Do we?
I hauled myself into the car where I had another route recalculation. I left a little earlier than usual and was in deep thought...when surprise! I had made a wrong turn. Route recalculate! It was then that I began to think about my life and all the route recalculations that were for the good. The drive from Lincolnton to Mt. Holly Middle School is special to me. On this trip, I get to relive highlights of my life. I pass the place where I had my first school bus ride at Ida Rankin. I pass the place where I first found out I would have the baby sister that I had prayed for at naptime on that Ida Rankin floor. I pass the place where I received my first kiss and my first piece of jewelry from a guy who was my first love. I pass the graveyard where I used to go and study and complete my undergrad assignments, because it was quiet and I could think. Oh the solo picnics and silent prayers that I have had there! I wouldn't trade them for anything. I pass the laundromat where Mom, Grandma and I had to go one Saturday, because our washing machine was broken. I hated it! I still hate laundromats. I vowed that I would never go to one when I grew up. It seemed so dirty. Route recalculate! I went to one by choice only two weeks ago in order to wash some comforters. Isn't life funny! I pass the place where Mom used to take my brother and me for apple pie a la mode on our way to school in the morning (yes...on occasion this was the breakfast of champions). It was such a special memory. I pass the place where I discovered Mom had cancer, and the place where she fought to win against it. I pass the place where my Grandma would hold my hand and safely walk me across the street as we bought our first pack of Budding Ham for our own special picnic. I pass the place where I had my first of many beautiful Barbies and showed it to my less than impressed Grandpa as we sat in chairs on his lawn. I pass the place where I was Wonder Woman or the Bionic Woman and by brother and I would save the world in our makeshift capes and pretend lassos of truth! I pass the place where on Sunday night services that lasted a little long, my dad would scoop me up in his arms and carry me home as my sleepy eyes opened and shut looking at the stars and at the strong contour of his jaw. I pass the place where I have felt the safest in my life...in my daddy's strong arms. I pass the church where as a 12 year old girl, I was baptised--where I stood with tears streaming as I was enveloped in a love like I had never known---a love that has never forsaken me. A love that still covers me, pursues me and sustains me. I pass many route recalculations on this short drive. There have so many changes along the road of my life. Some so beautiful that they make the tapestry of my life glow with pristine radiance. Some so hurtful that they have cut me to the core and I wondered if I could recover, but this one thing I know. At every route recalculation, I have had friend who has never left me. I have had someone who has helped absorb the shocking blows and who has multiplied my joy in such gracious ways! I am grateful tonight for Him. I am still navigating this route recalculation without my dad, but I am assured of this: And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. Romans 8:28
I was listening to the following song this morning and when it gets to the part "over us" (You reign over us), I can almost feel my Abba Father holding me. Yes...the place where I can feel the safest is in my Daddy's arms!"
It was raining in Buffalo. It was dark. My GPS was not the most user friendly, and wouldn't you just know that two main roads that we needed for Chrissie and I to return to our hotel were blocked off. We were assured by the barricade of police officers that passage would not be possible. They rerouted us. We had no choice. Whatever our plans were, however strong our protest, it didn't matter. We were being rerouted. We were experiencing an unplanned change. Our GPS began shouting out commands. She was trying to help us. Unfortunately, we could not yield to her commands for us to turn around. There were several other inaccessible roads, so we had to continue against her wishes and much to her displeasure. She continued to bark, "Route recalculate"..."Route recalculate"..."Route recalculate". At one point, she seemed to be so disgusted with us that she literally threw a barrage of spaghetti lines on the map and refused to speak. It was any man's guess...a free for all at that point. We had to manage for a moment without her. We had to go with our gut and Chrissie's sense of direction.
It sort of reminded me of life. How many route recalculations have we had? Some by choice...some very much not our choice. Yet, route recalculate we must in this life. The past 11 months have been among the hardest I have ever experienced. Today is exactly 11 months since my dad died, and with each passing day I dread next month with all my soul, as it will be the year anniversary. I can still remember holding his hand and kissing him just a few hours prior. I remember how he looked at me with such love. I have had moments when I did not know who I was, this past year or where I belonged. I have had moments when I didn't recognize my family. I've had moments when I felt I could run and run and never stop. As we must, with any loss, people have to evolve, adapt and change a bit. This has been painful. I miss my life, and I desperately miss my daddy.
I had a moment this morning where I was 50/50 about staying home from work. I honestly didn't know if I had the stamina to leave my house and face the world or serve as I needed to, today. This is a rare moment for me, and I usually work through it pretty nicely. I needed my dad, today. I needed him to say everything will be okay with this upcoming surgery, that the "route recalculations" for my children are for the best, that Carter is going to be just fine, that the decisions I've made in regards to things the last few weeks will work out. I needed him to say, "We can handle this. We're gonna be okay." I needed to be his little girl again. I DO NOT want this route recalculation. I change my mind. I want to go through the barricade in spite of who's blocking it. I want to refuse to comply. I want to say, NO! But we don't get that choice. Do we?
I hauled myself into the car where I had another route recalculation. I left a little earlier than usual and was in deep thought...when surprise! I had made a wrong turn. Route recalculate! It was then that I began to think about my life and all the route recalculations that were for the good. The drive from Lincolnton to Mt. Holly Middle School is special to me. On this trip, I get to relive highlights of my life. I pass the place where I had my first school bus ride at Ida Rankin. I pass the place where I first found out I would have the baby sister that I had prayed for at naptime on that Ida Rankin floor. I pass the place where I received my first kiss and my first piece of jewelry from a guy who was my first love. I pass the graveyard where I used to go and study and complete my undergrad assignments, because it was quiet and I could think. Oh the solo picnics and silent prayers that I have had there! I wouldn't trade them for anything. I pass the laundromat where Mom, Grandma and I had to go one Saturday, because our washing machine was broken. I hated it! I still hate laundromats. I vowed that I would never go to one when I grew up. It seemed so dirty. Route recalculate! I went to one by choice only two weeks ago in order to wash some comforters. Isn't life funny! I pass the place where Mom used to take my brother and me for apple pie a la mode on our way to school in the morning (yes...on occasion this was the breakfast of champions). It was such a special memory. I pass the place where I discovered Mom had cancer, and the place where she fought to win against it. I pass the place where my Grandma would hold my hand and safely walk me across the street as we bought our first pack of Budding Ham for our own special picnic. I pass the place where I had my first of many beautiful Barbies and showed it to my less than impressed Grandpa as we sat in chairs on his lawn. I pass the place where I was Wonder Woman or the Bionic Woman and by brother and I would save the world in our makeshift capes and pretend lassos of truth! I pass the place where on Sunday night services that lasted a little long, my dad would scoop me up in his arms and carry me home as my sleepy eyes opened and shut looking at the stars and at the strong contour of his jaw. I pass the place where I have felt the safest in my life...in my daddy's strong arms. I pass the church where as a 12 year old girl, I was baptised--where I stood with tears streaming as I was enveloped in a love like I had never known---a love that has never forsaken me. A love that still covers me, pursues me and sustains me. I pass many route recalculations on this short drive. There have so many changes along the road of my life. Some so beautiful that they make the tapestry of my life glow with pristine radiance. Some so hurtful that they have cut me to the core and I wondered if I could recover, but this one thing I know. At every route recalculation, I have had friend who has never left me. I have had someone who has helped absorb the shocking blows and who has multiplied my joy in such gracious ways! I am grateful tonight for Him. I am still navigating this route recalculation without my dad, but I am assured of this: And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. Romans 8:28
I was listening to the following song this morning and when it gets to the part "over us" (You reign over us), I can almost feel my Abba Father holding me. Yes...the place where I can feel the safest is in my Daddy's arms!"
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
What Goes Down Must Come Up
Sometimes in life we find that in order to go higher, we must go lower. This is strange, but true. Sometimes we have to lose in order to ultimately win. Like the seasoned eagle whose wings become burdened down with aged feathers that can no longer carry him to the heights of his youth, we must beat off the old. We must spend time in hiding as we heal, and we must allow ourselves to renew.
When I arrived in New York for the first time ever, I was faced with this realization in an amazing way. The hotel employees at Buffalo were welcoming, charming and accomodating. The employees at our Rochester hotel left much to be desired. As we arrived at the hotel seeking valet service, we soon found that there was none to be had. We were immediately greeted with a parking deck that was a hot mess. This was only preceeded by a vagabond who aggressively persisted for monetary gifts. Upon finding our way through the maze of ply wood, concrete slabs and crime tape we found a very tight parking space. Relieved to be parked, we walked toward an entrace of the hotel. This was when we realized that there was no elevator and we must drag our 200 lbs of luggage down two flights of stairs. Once we made our way inside of the hotel, it was realized that we must go up a flight of stairs with our belongings only to go down an escalator to check in and finally to go up an eleavator to our room. Up, down, up down...isn't that like life though?! Sometimes we go up, but ups are always followed by downs. To go up, we must go down.
On my last night in Rochester, my colleague, Chrissie and I were determined to have a bit of fun. We had worked hard for three days and wanted to end our trip with one last, sweet memory. As part of our job, we were recruiting new teachers to come to NC. They were precious! They were inspiring, and the vast commonality among the female candidates was that they wore Alex and Ani bracelets. Chrissie decided we needed one too! We began our adventure which involved obtaining one of these. We had directions from an interviewee and high hopes of securing one soon. With a pit stop at Nick Tahou's for a first time garbage plate experience for me, we had planned to grab something else for Chrissie. We detoured by Wegmens to "ooohhh" and "ahhhh" at this impressive grocery store, and we began to search for Chrissie some sustenance. We soon forgot the main goal of our mission--the elusive bracelet.
When Chrissie recalled our goal,we realized that we were lost; however, we soon found an Alex and Ani's on Culver Street at the Armory. I was excited! This part of Rochester was beautiful, warm, friendly, crisp and inviting. Upon leaving NC, my mom gave me some money that she asked me to use to buy myself something special. She and my father had planned to travel when she retired, and New York was on their bucket list. This was not to come to fruition due to my dad's failing health. Mom said, "Lisa, your dad and I would want you to buy yourself something special from us. I wish we had been able to go to NY together, but we are happy that you are. Have fun, and get something to remember your trip." I honestly was only 50% committed to this. I wasn't sure if I could own something that reminded me of what my dad could never do...would never be able to do, but nonetheless the moment had come.
It was surreal. When Chrissie and I entered Alex and Ani's I was amazed at how beautiful the jewelry was. I was also a little saddened as I remembered Dad. It was at that moment that we were greeted with the most precious and very young sales ladies. They said, "Ladies, are you here for our event?" I replied that we had just come to purchase a bracelet, but that we were curious about the event. She begain to explain that the event was to raise funds for literacy as a memorial for a deceased, prominent, local educator. She showed me the table where they had punch and treats and decorations of such books as The Hungry Caterpillar. She bragged and gleamed at her decorating efforts that honored children's literature. She said "...and by the way, Ladies, twenty percent of your purchase tonight goes toward this cause for promoting literacy in our area."
What? Was this real? What were the chances that we would actually be here? What were the chances we'd find this store on this night...or what were the chances we would even want to find it after getting lost? What were the chances that on the one day at the one moment when Alex and Ani were honoring teachers, education and literacy that we would be there? I began to cry. I wasn't sad. They were tears of happiness. They were tears of gratefulness. I was overwhelmed by the perfection of the moment. Two of the three young ladies attending to us were prospective teachers and they loved sharing with us about education, and they loved bouncing ideas off of us.The charms they showed me were exactly what I would have chosen: Ladybug (my nickname which means happiness and affection), anchor (which means hope, tranquility, stability), hummingbird (which means awakening, healing, eternity) and an apple (which means insight, wisdom, teacher). I cried tears even as my efforts to hold them back were unsuccessful. How perfect! This would have been just how my dad would have done it. "Surprise! Lisa, it's a party! You don't need to be sad that I'm not here, Ladybug! You need to be excited. I am always proud of you my teacher girl! I am always proud of you, and you're going to make it. Daddy, loves you!" Not only did he invest in me, but he invested in my profession. He invested 20% in literacy which is my passion! That is my dad, and that is my mom!
Working to bite back tears as I stared out at the gorgeous park in front of me, I realized that Chrissie still needed to eat, and I wasn't sure what we would do. It was in that moment that one of the sweet girls who was checking me out said out of the blue, "Have you tried, Trata, next door?" I said, "No. Is it a bakery?" (I had seen a bakery beside it). She said, "No, there is a bakery near it, but Trata is a great restaurant that serves burgers, sweet potato fries and other great food!" Wow! Even that detail was taken care of! We had found food for Chrissie, and the atmosphere in that place was awesome! As we ate, laughed and reflected on the irony of it all, I just kept thinking: "Some people live a lifetime for a moment like this". It came to mind as I basked in the way things had perfectly aligned, that this was one of those moments you don't forget. Getting lost was an awesome happenstance that led to being found.
Life is amazing. It is perplexing and beautiful. Its complexities that are paralleled by its simplicities create a beautiful canvas! Sometimes we must go down in order to go up. Sometimes we must be lost in order to be found. Sometimes we must lose in order to win. Sometimes we must relinquish control in order to stand our ground. Sometimes we must give the very thing we wish to receive...and sometimes...just sometimes we must do nothing but simply enjoy the perfection that was gifted to us for no reason at all...except that we are loved!
When I arrived in New York for the first time ever, I was faced with this realization in an amazing way. The hotel employees at Buffalo were welcoming, charming and accomodating. The employees at our Rochester hotel left much to be desired. As we arrived at the hotel seeking valet service, we soon found that there was none to be had. We were immediately greeted with a parking deck that was a hot mess. This was only preceeded by a vagabond who aggressively persisted for monetary gifts. Upon finding our way through the maze of ply wood, concrete slabs and crime tape we found a very tight parking space. Relieved to be parked, we walked toward an entrace of the hotel. This was when we realized that there was no elevator and we must drag our 200 lbs of luggage down two flights of stairs. Once we made our way inside of the hotel, it was realized that we must go up a flight of stairs with our belongings only to go down an escalator to check in and finally to go up an eleavator to our room. Up, down, up down...isn't that like life though?! Sometimes we go up, but ups are always followed by downs. To go up, we must go down.
On my last night in Rochester, my colleague, Chrissie and I were determined to have a bit of fun. We had worked hard for three days and wanted to end our trip with one last, sweet memory. As part of our job, we were recruiting new teachers to come to NC. They were precious! They were inspiring, and the vast commonality among the female candidates was that they wore Alex and Ani bracelets. Chrissie decided we needed one too! We began our adventure which involved obtaining one of these. We had directions from an interviewee and high hopes of securing one soon. With a pit stop at Nick Tahou's for a first time garbage plate experience for me, we had planned to grab something else for Chrissie. We detoured by Wegmens to "ooohhh" and "ahhhh" at this impressive grocery store, and we began to search for Chrissie some sustenance. We soon forgot the main goal of our mission--the elusive bracelet.
When Chrissie recalled our goal,we realized that we were lost; however, we soon found an Alex and Ani's on Culver Street at the Armory. I was excited! This part of Rochester was beautiful, warm, friendly, crisp and inviting. Upon leaving NC, my mom gave me some money that she asked me to use to buy myself something special. She and my father had planned to travel when she retired, and New York was on their bucket list. This was not to come to fruition due to my dad's failing health. Mom said, "Lisa, your dad and I would want you to buy yourself something special from us. I wish we had been able to go to NY together, but we are happy that you are. Have fun, and get something to remember your trip." I honestly was only 50% committed to this. I wasn't sure if I could own something that reminded me of what my dad could never do...would never be able to do, but nonetheless the moment had come.
It was surreal. When Chrissie and I entered Alex and Ani's I was amazed at how beautiful the jewelry was. I was also a little saddened as I remembered Dad. It was at that moment that we were greeted with the most precious and very young sales ladies. They said, "Ladies, are you here for our event?" I replied that we had just come to purchase a bracelet, but that we were curious about the event. She begain to explain that the event was to raise funds for literacy as a memorial for a deceased, prominent, local educator. She showed me the table where they had punch and treats and decorations of such books as The Hungry Caterpillar. She bragged and gleamed at her decorating efforts that honored children's literature. She said "...and by the way, Ladies, twenty percent of your purchase tonight goes toward this cause for promoting literacy in our area."
What? Was this real? What were the chances that we would actually be here? What were the chances we'd find this store on this night...or what were the chances we would even want to find it after getting lost? What were the chances that on the one day at the one moment when Alex and Ani were honoring teachers, education and literacy that we would be there? I began to cry. I wasn't sad. They were tears of happiness. They were tears of gratefulness. I was overwhelmed by the perfection of the moment. Two of the three young ladies attending to us were prospective teachers and they loved sharing with us about education, and they loved bouncing ideas off of us.The charms they showed me were exactly what I would have chosen: Ladybug (my nickname which means happiness and affection), anchor (which means hope, tranquility, stability), hummingbird (which means awakening, healing, eternity) and an apple (which means insight, wisdom, teacher). I cried tears even as my efforts to hold them back were unsuccessful. How perfect! This would have been just how my dad would have done it. "Surprise! Lisa, it's a party! You don't need to be sad that I'm not here, Ladybug! You need to be excited. I am always proud of you my teacher girl! I am always proud of you, and you're going to make it. Daddy, loves you!" Not only did he invest in me, but he invested in my profession. He invested 20% in literacy which is my passion! That is my dad, and that is my mom!
Working to bite back tears as I stared out at the gorgeous park in front of me, I realized that Chrissie still needed to eat, and I wasn't sure what we would do. It was in that moment that one of the sweet girls who was checking me out said out of the blue, "Have you tried, Trata, next door?" I said, "No. Is it a bakery?" (I had seen a bakery beside it). She said, "No, there is a bakery near it, but Trata is a great restaurant that serves burgers, sweet potato fries and other great food!" Wow! Even that detail was taken care of! We had found food for Chrissie, and the atmosphere in that place was awesome! As we ate, laughed and reflected on the irony of it all, I just kept thinking: "Some people live a lifetime for a moment like this". It came to mind as I basked in the way things had perfectly aligned, that this was one of those moments you don't forget. Getting lost was an awesome happenstance that led to being found.
Life is amazing. It is perplexing and beautiful. Its complexities that are paralleled by its simplicities create a beautiful canvas! Sometimes we must go down in order to go up. Sometimes we must be lost in order to be found. Sometimes we must lose in order to win. Sometimes we must relinquish control in order to stand our ground. Sometimes we must give the very thing we wish to receive...and sometimes...just sometimes we must do nothing but simply enjoy the perfection that was gifted to us for no reason at all...except that we are loved!
Picture of the Literacy Event Complete with Children's Book Captions over the Food
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Save Image As...
Dear Image,
So, it is almost your birthday my crazy Image girl! You will be eleven on January 11, 2015...your Golden Birthday (11 on the 11th). We have had quite a few Golden birthdays in the last 6 months--both of my children and now you, my fur-baby.
Most know your story: "The Two Year old (almost 3) Show Dog that I 'saved'". I have owned many dogs and loved them all. With most of them it was easy: purebred, mutts, whatchamacallits, lap dogs...Loving dogs has come easy for me. You, however, my girl have been a challenge. Finally in your 3rd and your forever home, I have loved you more than the others who owned you and have loved you longest. I also know you love me more than anything in the world, though how you convey it is most unique. You're not even able to bear being in a separate room from me without your loud (quite annoying, I might add) crying. We've been together for 8 1/2 years. I've been committed to you and cared for you with all I am, though it has been an act of will and choice and not an easy act of my heart some days as it is with my other dogs. Your intelligent nature requires that I frequently prove that I am the alpha. You make me earn your respect in a way that is often irritating, though, I do choose to love you. I recall the quote from Lady Guinevere to King Arthur in "The First Knight" when she says "Love has many faces. I may look on you differently, but not with less love." She goes on to say that King Arthur is loved by an act of her will which is stronger than her heart. Being a person who feels things deeply--a heart person--but also a strong-willed person, I loved and hated this quote all at once. I understand it better now in having loved you, Image, for almost a decade.
Loving Windsor, Tiffany, Meechie, Jamie, Butch, Cookie, Princess, Sugar, Tiger, Star, etc., etc., was simple. They stole my heart again and again. They wanted to please me. They quickly obeyed, but then again they were not Show Dogs and maybe not quite as acute as you. You , my girl, are willful and constantly make me to you prove that you will do what I say. Yet, there are moments that I do so enjoy you--like when you snuggle next to me or prance around like a deer in such a jovial manner. These moment do capture my heart. I love how you will lay in a big orange and white roan ball at the foot of the tub until I am done or in the floor by my bed when I nap. I love how you press your forehead against my shoulder when you want a hug, and I love how you bare your teeth when I ask you to smile.
When your previous owners bought you because they thought they could make you, mold you into a show dog--a prize--- little did they know the job that was cut out for them. Oh yes, even now I gaze upon your many ribbons and certificates where you won show after show, but it came at a higher price than some of their other dogs required. This I do know, because I know you...and I know them!
Traveling all the way from Kalamazoo, Michigan to Dallas, North Carolina, I will never forget the first time I saw you. I first met a member of your pack--a Blue Roan English Cocker Spaniel. I saw him in Lowe's Hardware and thought he was majestic enough to inquire about him from his trainer. One thing after another and I met you...the Orange and White Roan. I wanted the blue, but then I saw your sweet, sad face. I didn't feel they loved you or were as proud of you as they should be...so I bought you (Yes! BOUGHT you...at a hefty price, too), and I brought you home to love you. And yes! You have made me prove it over and over again; but Image, I am most proud of my love for you. I am most proud that we stuck it out, and that I didn't quit on you like the others. I know you have been most happy in my home.
Your life expectancy is 11-12 years, though I think you could make it to fifteen. I never thought I would lose my precious Windsor before you, my tough ol' girl. Yet, here you are as willlful as ever. As I was about to save a picture of you for this blog, I received the message "Save Image as..." I laughed. Oh, how sometimes I would like to save you as something else! But then, I would have missed the life lessons I have learned from you...for you are often like me. You are willful when you should listen. You think you know more than me, but you don't. You want your way, when mine is best for you. I think I"ll "save" Image again and again if need be...and I'll think I'll save her as the Image she is! I do love you Image Ol' Girl!
Happy Almost Birthday My Orange Roan Lassie!
Monday, December 22, 2014
There's Been a Change of Plans
There's Been a Change of Plans...This was the title of yesterday's message. Every word and every moment spoke to my heart on so many levels. Pastor Furtick said, "And there's someone out there who has buried a dream. You've stopped believing "it" is possible, but I'm here to tell you, ALL things are possible through Him!" Something just exploded in the deepest part of who I am. That was me!
For someone who is a conclusive planner, this has been a bit challenging. Just the words, "There's been a change of plans" makes my stomache hurt. Yet, plans do change. Pastor Furtick said, that God always has plan, but He frequently doesn't share His plan with us because we would mess it up or worse yet trust the "plan" more than the God who made it.
The past four years have been a roller coaster of changed plans. James and I had planned to adopt a third child. Plans changed. My daughter became my niece. My heart still doesn't understand, but plans change. Sometimes it takes awhile for your heart to catch up with this. Mine still hasn't, even though my mind has long since made the leap. She is a beautiful five year old who often comments on how much her Uncle Jamie loves her. Her indeed was the first to rescue her.
We planned for Tyler to go away to college. This was his dream too. Yet weeks from graduation we began dealing with horrifying seizures. All is well now, and his doctors are amazed at how strong he is (He really is...It's doggone amazing! And what I attribute to a merciful God). Then before we could come up for air, we found out he was to be a father. I discovered this on a Saturday night. I was the last to know. Tyler loves his mama so much and was afraid of breaking my heart. It didn't break my heart, but it did fracture my will a bit. The next day, I couldn't even get out of bed. My family left for church. I went for a ride across a beautiful bridge in High Shoals. What I saw, much to my astonishment, was a white dove perched on the ledge of the bridge. I took a picture of it, and heard God say, "Lisa, peace be still. I will take care of this. You can't control one part of it. You're going to have to trust me."
Trusting Him has been my life's constant, and He has NEVER failed me. Plans change. As I sit on the floor beside my bed at this 3:00 a.m. hour wrapped in my favorite blue bathrobe and listening to Carter breathe in the bed above me, I am so thankful for changed plans. Hearing him call, "Nina, Nina" in the middle of the night as he wraps his tiny arms around my neck is the sweetest feeling in the world. At that moment I am shocked at love that spills from my heart. There is so much love that my heart can't contain it! It often flows from my cheeks! Plans change.
I had not planned for my Daddy to not be here this Christmas. I had not planned for it to hurt so much. It angers me that I my heart won't catch up with my brain on this one. It infuriates me that I can't seem to control the hurt that seems to sneak up on me at unexpected moments. I miss the sound of his voice. I miss his numerous calls throughout the day just to say he loves me. I miss his strong hands holding mine. I miss him letting me cry into his shoulder even as a forty-something year old woman and how he could always fix his little girl. I miss hearing him sing. I miss how infectious his laughter was...and how corny his jokes were. I miss how he was never pressed or stressed and how that caused me to relax. Plans change. Life moves forward.
"Dreams can still be had. Dreams can still come to fruition." I heard Pastor say this yesterday. Plans change, but if they didn't we would miss out on some wonderful things. Yes. When plans change things can be inconvenient, messy and painful, but they often give birth to such wonderful things as the baby Jesus. Plans changed for Mary. She wasn't finished completing her wedding registry when the angel appeared and said, "Surprise! Change of plans! You'll also need a baby registry!" Bless! How frightening! How inconvenient! How out of control! Yet how wonderful the eternal effects!
I love Jeremiah 29:11! God knows the plans He has for us...even when they change. He knows THE PLAN. We know THE PROMISE and it is SO good! It is for a future and a hope...it is for realized dreams! With that said, I think I can actually and tangibly dream now. So with that I will head back to bed beside my sweet little boy and say Good Nite!
For someone who is a conclusive planner, this has been a bit challenging. Just the words, "There's been a change of plans" makes my stomache hurt. Yet, plans do change. Pastor Furtick said, that God always has plan, but He frequently doesn't share His plan with us because we would mess it up or worse yet trust the "plan" more than the God who made it.
The past four years have been a roller coaster of changed plans. James and I had planned to adopt a third child. Plans changed. My daughter became my niece. My heart still doesn't understand, but plans change. Sometimes it takes awhile for your heart to catch up with this. Mine still hasn't, even though my mind has long since made the leap. She is a beautiful five year old who often comments on how much her Uncle Jamie loves her. Her indeed was the first to rescue her.
We planned for Tyler to go away to college. This was his dream too. Yet weeks from graduation we began dealing with horrifying seizures. All is well now, and his doctors are amazed at how strong he is (He really is...It's doggone amazing! And what I attribute to a merciful God). Then before we could come up for air, we found out he was to be a father. I discovered this on a Saturday night. I was the last to know. Tyler loves his mama so much and was afraid of breaking my heart. It didn't break my heart, but it did fracture my will a bit. The next day, I couldn't even get out of bed. My family left for church. I went for a ride across a beautiful bridge in High Shoals. What I saw, much to my astonishment, was a white dove perched on the ledge of the bridge. I took a picture of it, and heard God say, "Lisa, peace be still. I will take care of this. You can't control one part of it. You're going to have to trust me."
Trusting Him has been my life's constant, and He has NEVER failed me. Plans change. As I sit on the floor beside my bed at this 3:00 a.m. hour wrapped in my favorite blue bathrobe and listening to Carter breathe in the bed above me, I am so thankful for changed plans. Hearing him call, "Nina, Nina" in the middle of the night as he wraps his tiny arms around my neck is the sweetest feeling in the world. At that moment I am shocked at love that spills from my heart. There is so much love that my heart can't contain it! It often flows from my cheeks! Plans change.
I had not planned for my Daddy to not be here this Christmas. I had not planned for it to hurt so much. It angers me that I my heart won't catch up with my brain on this one. It infuriates me that I can't seem to control the hurt that seems to sneak up on me at unexpected moments. I miss the sound of his voice. I miss his numerous calls throughout the day just to say he loves me. I miss his strong hands holding mine. I miss him letting me cry into his shoulder even as a forty-something year old woman and how he could always fix his little girl. I miss hearing him sing. I miss how infectious his laughter was...and how corny his jokes were. I miss how he was never pressed or stressed and how that caused me to relax. Plans change. Life moves forward.
"Dreams can still be had. Dreams can still come to fruition." I heard Pastor say this yesterday. Plans change, but if they didn't we would miss out on some wonderful things. Yes. When plans change things can be inconvenient, messy and painful, but they often give birth to such wonderful things as the baby Jesus. Plans changed for Mary. She wasn't finished completing her wedding registry when the angel appeared and said, "Surprise! Change of plans! You'll also need a baby registry!" Bless! How frightening! How inconvenient! How out of control! Yet how wonderful the eternal effects!
I love Jeremiah 29:11! God knows the plans He has for us...even when they change. He knows THE PLAN. We know THE PROMISE and it is SO good! It is for a future and a hope...it is for realized dreams! With that said, I think I can actually and tangibly dream now. So with that I will head back to bed beside my sweet little boy and say Good Nite!
Jeremiah 29:11The Message (MSG) 10-11 This is God’s Word on the subject: “As soon as Babylon’s seventy years are up and not a day before, I’ll show up and take care of you as I promised and bring you back home. 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.
Hi Handsome!! Oh you have stolen my heart, my sweet prince!
I absolutely without reservation fell head over heels in love at this moment! I love this picture for this reason! I wiped tears and tried to clear my face before this pic was taken...my heart was glowing!
My sweet daddy! His poor bruised hands! Love those hands!
Tyler's graduation...who knew...Buckle up! Life, here we come!
I could eat him!!! OOOUUU!! Yummy!
My happy, happy boy!!
Another sweet change of plans! He has Angelman's Syndrome. I LOVE him! Hugs Jim!
My beautiful niece only days after we brought her home!
Saturday, December 6, 2014
Saigon, Salons, Salsa and Sincere Smiles
I stepped out of my car and said, "Lord, I don't want to talk to anyone or be talked to by anyone. I just want to get my nails done as quickly as possible and leave, and please let Anna be in a quiet, mood today. Actually, Lord, it would be great if no one even looked at me." Anna is a beautiful, sanguine, perky, petite, sixty-something nail technician from Saigon. She loves to talk, and I usually accommodate even though I would prefer to sit quietly as she performs her magic on my nails. I was expecting a sympathetic reply from my Father of "Okay Lisa. It's been tough on you, lately. We'll handle this." No such luck. Instead, He reminded me, "Lisa, this is not your show. You enlisted in a different army a long time ago, and I'm going to need you at your post." Great! Just great! God is kind of like that. He never lets us give less than our best.
As I entered the salon, I quickly realized I was the only customer. Again...just great! Anna's husband stepped inside from the back door. He was wearing a brown corduroy jacket--slightly too big for him. His slightly too long salt and pepper colored hair extended from his black toboggan and his tender eyes peered over his glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose. He is a quiet soul, but his sweet face says much. He nodded to me and shuffled toward Anna to hand her the items she would need to help me.
Anna began chattering immediately. I often don't understand much of what she says, so it is with great effort that I have to try and listen. This is quite a task for an ADHD girl who also noticed that they were playing a movie starring Tom Selleck on their very visible T.V. Yes, this would be an extra challenge tonight.
Anna began questioning why she hadn't seen me in so long. She began fussing over my very cropped nails. She began inquiring about my holiday plans. Ugghhh! I didn't have the stamina for small talk, so I just told her the truth. I said this would be the first year without my dad, and I missed him a lot. At that, my chatty, motherly friend stopped. She was sitting at my feet. She said, "Lisa, I know. I share with you. I understand." She began to tell me how she had lost her son when he was only thirty years old. She explained that he died in Saigon, but that she couldn't afford to go home and pay her last respects. She explained that her mother had been furious with her for this lack of respect and honor toward the son. She also explained that her mother had died only a few weeks following her son. As she talked I saw her cute, tiny nose turn pink and her beautiful almond shaped eyes fill with tears. As she talked she stroked my feet and gently rubbed my legs. A tear or two rolled down my face as I felt her pain. I had never known that Anna had experienced such grief. She is such a happy soul. She smiles with all she is, and this makes her so beautiful to me. This makes her seem so young to me.
I understood in that moment that the gift of my time to Anna was also God's gift of healing to me. As the time passed, Anna true to form chatted away and enjoyed being able to converse with an "active listener" (even if the listener sometimes had to fake it). Anna always shares some "American" favorite recipe with me each time I am there. I don't know why, and she never shares Asia ones--when I am there. I often wish she would share authentic Asian recipes. Maybe she thinks I would like the others better. Today, she wanted to tell me how to make a simple salsa. "Lisa, this easy...you try....you work hard...you clean house...you care for family...this recipe easy...You family like". I smiled. My heart swelled with love for this little woman. As I opened up and allowed her to share, I discovered that she also speaks French! Who knew?! She learned it in school as a little girl. She spoke French to me as she worked. It was beautiful. Her accent was amazing! I understood more of her French than her English. She educated me on the difference between Spanish spoken in Spain (where I have had the pleasure to visit) and Spanish spoken in Mexico (where I have also been blessed to visit). All the while she commented on my feet. "Lisa, you wear heels again for winter! I see! Look here! You must be careful. See how much better I make it. Lisa, where you get this mark. Something bite you? Look you bruise. How? You sure you like this (nail) color? You sure? I change for you."
When it was finally time to leave, I paid; but then I said, "Anna, will you wax my eyebrows?" I usually do my own, but I could tell this would be a treat for her. She said, "Yes. I be happy to. Sit. You sit." She applied hot wax, pulled, tweezed, plucked; and at last, we were done! I said goodbye and stood to leave. As I stepped away, Anna said, "No. Lisa. You wait." She hurried to the back of the salon. I thought, "Great! She is going to get a hand-held mirror so I can inspect her work. Honestly, it's okay, Anna. I trust you." When she returned, I was wrong again. Anna held out a little box of candles. She said, "Happy birthday, Lisa, and Merry Christmas!" I was stunned. I quickly grabbed her tiny little shoulders in my arms and hugged her. Wow! Just when we think we have given so much, God reminds us that we can never out give Him! Thank you my sweet, little, beautiful Anna in your tiny, black sock feet, tonight! What a precious gift you were to me! I love my purple candles, but not nearly as much as I love you!
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