The Importance of Story Time

Every chance I get, I will encourage a person to tell me about their growing up years and how they got to where they are now. I love ALL the in-between stuff!!! The good, the bad, the ugly. I just love being a part of others lives, and story telling creates a bond we might not have otherwise shared. But the most interesting stories come from those that have lived well beyond my years. It is the one time I can sit for hours with no regret.

Why do the older generation love telling stories about their past? I can only speak for myself, but will bet most feel the same as I. It's the ability to recall and reflect that helps me remember who I used to be, and in turn, helps me identify who I am in the current moment. The (hopefully) improved upon me. It's like the groundwork of beautiful things to come that have been through the storms of life and still survived. No, thrived!

I keep a picture of myself that was taken upon graduating from Miami Beauty College. The year was 1974. By that time, I had already experienced enough pain for a lifetime. Or at least I had thought so. There was just something about the time spent learning a trade that would sustain me, that makes me want to hold onto that picture. It was a happy time in my life. One without having to fear unwarranted death at the hands of a very dysfunctional jealous man. So, I keep the picture to remind me of who I truly am. Many times, as I walked by the picture, I would verbally say, "Oh hi! There you are!" It also helped as the years flew by, and my appearance changed, to remember how I looked when my life actually re-started. The year I loved who I had become. The year I released all of who I was to the One who loves me most. The year I released my rights to myself and asked God to stay close and direct my life while here on planet Earth. The most freedom I had experienced up to that time.

But the stories!!! The stories of my past provide a source of affirmation, hope, and belief that my legacy (in spite of the challenges) has a better chance of preservation. I like to weed out the not-so-good past when telling stories to our off-spring, and jump right on into the years beyond 1974. However, they HAVE heard some things I probably shouldn't have shared. Still, the stories told have only skimmed the top of what I have experienced in these years lived. Look at that '80's HAIR, will ya! 😁➡️

Now if you can connect me with someone from the Baby Boomer Era, no holds barred! 😂 Rarely is anything left out as we discuss line upon line of years past. Unless the memories are just too painful to recall. Some are, rightly so, personal. We'll then save it for another day. Maybe. Depends...

Back to 2022...I was awake last evening when Dennis called it a night and came to bed. I tried sleeping, but sleep wouldn't favor me with its presence. So I got up (10:30 P.M.) and decided to have a late night snack. Never a good idea. But it was tasty. I was in my study, reading through many of my blog posts since 2010. Why I chose to do that, I really have no idea. It just popped into my head and I thought it might be a good idea. It might make me sleepy. Nope! Hey, there's some really good stuff in there, and I actually enjoyed reminiscing the moments I had sat at my computer and typed them out. I would start to read one and would always say, "Oh, I remember this one!" I finally gave up when my eyes began to burn, but still, I was not sleepy. It was 2:35 A.M., and I was invested. But I really needed to get some shut eye.

If any of you who might be reading this, and have gotten this far, you are very familiar with my ramblings. I start at one point and move into various others as they spark their way across the neurons in my brain. Until no one really knows the point I was trying to make in the first place. Roping me in is like trying to give a cat a bath. Hard to do and can be a bit dangerous. See? Don't really know where that statement was intended to go.  

STORY TIME!!! Oh yeah! The blog posts were reminding me of my story! And I'm pretty sure this one was birthed out of sleep deprivation. 

FROM there to here...

⬅️     to     ➡️

AND SO MUCH IN-BETWEEN 

for another time

P.S.

Until next time, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

The Winds of Change

Have you ever felt as if the winds of change have begun to blow? Change is inevitable. Yes? But, has there ever been a time when all your senses have been alerted to the inevitable? This is me. Now.

So much has changed in the last couple of years. Covid19 brought with it an undeniable NEED for change. We all (well, most of us), listened and followed protocol. But, that is not what I am talking about.

There are "seasons of life" that we all must walk through. Some train us. Some educate us. Some prepare us for challenges to come. Not many of us can see the future, or foretell it. But some of us CAN predict it, if our spiritual eyes and ears are open to understanding, and our common sense is well attended. We can "see where this is going" kinda thing. 

What we can't predict is how we will get there. We can plan for it. We can prepare for it. We just can't see how it will all play out. But at least we won't be surprised when it arrives. There may be a few surprises along the way, but hey! Last season prepared us for it! Right?

I'm pretty sure I have lost many of you, if not all. "Is she talking about herself, or just in general?" Or, "I think the winds have blown her off her rocker." 😉I, too, wonder that myself, on occasion. 😂

I used to worry some, about the fact that I was quickly coming upon the marker that my female siblings arrived at, and then left the planet. I have now officially passed the years any of them were able to live beyond. The winds that I love, when they visit me, have left me standing here. For the time, at least. And I know I am going to get some push-back from my girls for even talking about this. But it is a reality of life. We are born, we live, we die. This is not meant to be morbid, but real. And the sooner we face that fact, the sooner we can live our best lives while stationed here. I've finally accepted the fact that I am on God's timetable, and I'll go home when He says it's time. And no sooner...

When we face the fact that life is short, will it make a difference? Will we continue to live our lives focused on ourselves instead of those we love? Will we make different decisions, based not on how it makes us feel, but rather on how it makes them feel? Will we see each new day as an opportunity, or just another day to deal with difficulties? Will we begin to understand that humanity is broken, and possibly defeated, and begin to see with eyes of compassion instead of hatred?  

The Bible says there are 7 things that God hates, found in Proverbs 6:16-19

• Eyes that are haughty (arrogantly superior)
• A tongue that lies 
• Hands that shed the blood of innocent people
• Hearts which plot evil
• Feet that run to do evil things
• People who lie as witnesses
• One who causes strife in his or her family (ouch!)

Now that we know all this, will it better prepare us for seasonal changes? The winds that blow through the years we've been granted, will they whisper "change" to us?

Listening to the winds of change, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

🎶You Make It Feel Like Christmas 🎵

Dennis and I are coming up on our 47th year as husband & wife. December 14th, 1974, was when it all began. That's more than a few years! In all of our "disagreements" (let's be real...ARGUMENTS), we have stuck like glue to each other. We've never given up on each other. It's true that humanity is broken, at best, but that doesn't mean there is not a whole lot of good in us.

Just a few days ago, someone very close to me, said, "I don't like Facebook because most of it is lies. People create posts and  pictures of themselves that leads one to believe they are so happy, and in reality, they are miserable." 

I get it. I really don't want anyone thinking otherwise of me, either. Do you? But, I have never believed anyone that has told me they have a perfect marriage, never disagreeing on anything, always happy. The simple truth is, we don't become strong without challenges. We don't learn to truly love another, without weathering the storms that can change a person in the blink of an eye. Dennis is my rock, even when we don't like each other. I depend on him as much as I depend on myself. Some things I must weather alone. I must deal with my own insecurities, my own weaknesses, my own imaginations. Yet, I know he will always be there for me at the end of my battles. Even THROUGH my battles. And he can always count on me to be the stone around his neck. WAIT! Uh...what I meant was that he can always count on me to weather whatever storms he must face, by his side. Around his neck...😉😂

Some years ago, after our girls had both moved to North Carolina, I allowed a melancholy spirit to attach itself to me during the holidays. I didn't want to decorate for anything. There seemed to be no reason for festivities. I remember one particular Christmas I voiced my discouragement with the putting up and taking down of decorations. I didn't want to. Didn't see the point. It was just me and him. My rock said, "But I enjoy it. And so do you, once we get it all up." That gave me purpose. Knowing that, yes, there was still someone to enjoy the holidays with, and he was right there in front of me. He makes it feel like Christmas.

Now, we have a couple of grand-girls that put a lift in our steps and a twinkle in our eyes. They more than make it worth climbing up and down on ladders, circling a Frasier Fir Tree numerous times while stringing lights, garlands, and ornaments. Not to mention the smiles we get from our girls, now women with their own families. 

Our oldest granddaughter, Reagan, helped with decorating this year. She's 5, and is the most patient little girl this Grams has ever seen. Patient with her Grams wanting everything perfect. But it is with only a look from her, and the ornaments I don't particularly like, goes on the tree because she wishes it. Expensive glass balls she handles with such care. Less breakable ornaments, she finds a "perfect" spot for, and beaded garlands she loves to trail behind her as she walks/runs around the race track in our home that she is so accustomed to as a baby learning to walk, then run. She makes it feel like Christmas.

Love is a choice. Happiness is a choice. We forget that, sometimes...

Happy 47th year of counting it all blessings when various trials come your way, DW. You make it feel like Christmas.

Still loving Christmas, here you'll find me...in Mary's World.

The Season of Mixed Emotions

 

Fall...it's most likely my favorite time of the year. It clears out the heat of long summer days, and ushers in the cool breezes that stir the quickly changing colors of our backyard leaves. Thunderstorms that bring rain, sometimes drizzling rain, sometimes torrential rain, always bring with them a sense of peace. Of solitude. Of grounding strength. This time of year always calms my spirit and causes a refocus for the days ahead that will hopefully bring in some snow that will mound as it falls. Snow that our littles and their parents, can make snow angels in. And build a snowman in. It's rare, here in North Carolina. But one can always hope. Right?

While the last months of the year bring family gatherings that feast at a Thanksgiving Table, and opening gifts during the Christmas holidays, they can also bring with them a melancholy spirit. Especially when family has grown and have others to consider being with during these festive times. Gratitude says enjoy the days you are given, while jealousy tries creeping in because of feelings of least importance. Least resistance has made it easy for those with too much to organize (on that ever growing totem pole), to place you at the bottom. Yet, when we take a step back and take a good hard look, this could actually be seen as a good thing. Even a great thing. Without the security, the balancing anchor, at the bottom of the totem pole, all would fall over. Scrambling to put it all back together would rob one of the joys of these beautiful holidays. 

Steeped in tradition, most of us desire to have our loved ones close on the actual day of Thanksgiving, and Christmas. What makes us not want to share those we love, especially when these holidays are all about love? Is it because of traditional values? Or is it because we desire family around us on these special days? To celebrate these actual dates set so very long ago? Why does it matter if we celebrate on those particular days, or days before (or after), as long as a slice of time is carved out for us to be together? 

This blogger is grateful for any day she gets to be with her family. But, something about Thanksgiving and Christmas, just leaves a hollow spot when not with family on those days. I've tried shaking it, but oh my, how it clings to me! 

I'm not going to place my life along side those that have less (or more) than me, or those that have lost much (or gained much) in this life, even though I could, and would be ashamed I am even making this a thing. But, this is the life I live. Yes, it could be soooo much worse. However, that fact doesn't diminish the feelings of loneliness any of us feel. Rich or poor. Young or old. We all have our own set of emotions we must deal with. Our own "why". So, let's compare (if we must), apples to apples. 

After thinking about this, I have decided that:

This year, I will refuse the temptation to mourn, or be jealous of the empty days. Instead, I will create a life outside of what tradition has wrapped me in. Maybe I will find a soup kitchen to volunteer my time in. Or make my "years ago" usual pumpkin and apple pies, and take them to a family that struggles to get by day-to-day. Maybe my husband and I will visit Cracker Barrel for Thanksgiving, sit and play checkers outside until our table is ready, and when finished stop by the neighbors and visit. So many ways a person could turn their complaining into gratefulness.

Counting my many blessings, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

The Semi-Saga of Recent Days

Disclaimer:

I should have flown the friendly skies, instead of being cared for on my life's journey, if you know what I mean. Hint: United Airlines verses American Airlines

I don't even know where to start. Maybe I'll just report on the interesting trip home from Missouri, where I've been for the last 5 days. Oh, wait. Make that 3 days. The 4th day had been in Charlotte, NC, after my Saturday flight had been canceled 30 minutes before boarding. The plane had been struck by lightening, either on its descent, or once it landed. Either way, that's not a great thing. And the 5th day, I spent half of it in that same airport thinking my rescheduled flight would actually get me home. Nope. The second half of the day was on the road in a rented car. But, let me back up so as not to confuse you. Too badly...

This past Saturday I was scheduled to arrive in Raleigh by 5:17 PM. That clearly wasn't going to happen. Even though I had a full schedule of clients to get to on Sunday, with few spots to put them (in the next several weeks), it looked like I was going to need to work on normal days off. Difficulties arise, right? No problem. 

As I move toward the line forming at the information desk, where I was told I'd have to go to get another flight booked, first-born daughter, Lindsey, was sitting at home in North Carolina (I think...she may have been getting groceries for all I know). She messaged me, to say no cars were available for me to rent, so she was going to book me a room at the Hilton. It was probably best since I was ready for the day to be over, AND I would have to drive in the dark. In the pouring rain. In the lightening filled atmosphere. She did all the virtual leg work; the least I could do was to obey and move forward by way of shuttle to the luxury bed awaiting me. I just want to acknowledge, right here, that my husband does worry about me. I didn't think he ever did. But he was clearly concerned about me walking outside the airport by myself. Even a bit nervous, I think, about my navigation skills. He really didn't need to be, but I found it endearing that he was. He wanted to take care of me, but couldn't, 'cause I left him back in Missouri, helping his sis with important things needing done. AND...we have a couple of daughter's that are always watching out for us.

So...ya want to know how to tell a country girl from a city girl? Hand her a bill for a sleep over with the price tag of $236.42. Country, and very conservative, girl says, "Say what? Does a dinner and breakfast come with that?" City girl just hands it over with a nice hefty tip.  Oh well...they DID give me an awesome nights sleep. Which I desperately needed. No breakfast. Just bed. And TV. And, I did have a very awesome grilled cheese sandwich with fries, the night before, charged to my room...so all was good...

So...I'm now booked for a Sunday departure and should be home by noon! Whoop!!! I'm excited! EIGHT (8) MINUTES before boarding the plane, an announcement comes over the loud speaker. You couldn't really hear it because a siren had been going off for nigh on what seemed to be an hour. It was probably more like 15-20 minutes. It just seemed much longer because it was so loud, and I was pretty sure we were under a terrorist attack on the west end of the airport. Then, I saw an American Airlines attendant's mouth moving, so I knew she was making an announcement. I just didn't know what that announcement was. Neither did any of the other passengers. We just looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders, and sat wide eyed while waiting for our plane ride. Until...I saw people leaving that had been standing in line. So, I go up and ask what was going on. "FLIGHT 1894 HAS BEEN CANCELED," she yelled. Well, great!

Not willing (without having an alternative) to spend another $236, I asked Lindsey if she could see if there were any cars available to rent, while I stood in another line that circled the airport, to get yet another flight booked. While I waited, Lindsey was booking me a car rental. It took her all of 4 minutes to rescue her momma, once again. It was booked for pick up at12:44, but was ready for me by 11:30. I should be home within 3 hours, given good traffic movement and no crazies on the road.

MEMO: The night before, no cars at all were available. Out of the 7, or more, car rental businesses at the airport, NO ONE had a car to rent. Holy wow! I really doubt I would have tried driving in all that stormy weather, anyway, so it didn't really matter that there were no cars available. I just found it interesting...

The story gets better, now. *Whew...

I make it to the booth where my car was being held for me. Imagine, if you can, a young girl sitting behind a large plexiglass, wearing a mask (or 3...couldn't really tell), and using the lowest tone of voice possible when she spoke. Add to the mix, a hard hearing, emotionally bankrupt, (the last week had been excruciating), 74 year old woman, that was also wearing a mask. The girl seemed to be rattling off so many instructions, half of which I actually heard (didn't care, really, I just wanted a car). I have no idea how I was charged (but NOT charged), for a full tank of gas at the tune of $57. Alrighty. Just give me some keys or point me in the right direction. It's time for me to be home. Ugh! Can this day get any more complicated? 

Turns out it was a really nice, smooth riding, Buick. I was able to travel at 80-85 miles per hour (shhhhh) most of the way. It was a straight shot, mostly. I did drive very carefully, always knowing the distance between me and any other car. It seemed like the road just opened up for me. And everyone else was traveling at the same speed. Well, most people. Not all, I suppose. It was a beautiful day outside and I was ready to be home. Past ready. I did have one small stretch of only going 60-65 miles per hour. Seemed like I was crawling. The car was mostly soundproof, and must have had great tires, because it felt like I was riding on a cloud, slowly drifting along, waving to cars filled with people as I slipped past them.

Just to be clear...I don't normally drive this fast. It could be a recipe for disaster. But so could driving 55-60 on an interstate where cars are moving much faster. Okay. I'm done with that news.

When I pulled into our driveway, our neighbor across the way, waved and shouted, as he clapped his hands. He was glad to see I had made it back safely. I strolled across our newly paved street and went to fill him in on the latest happenings in our family and a tad about the trip. Still asking when Dennis is coming home. I think he's missing his shootin' the breeze buddy. 

I returned the Buick that evening, after Meg and Reagan watched Bray's ballgame. Happy to have a couple of girls watching out for their momma, there was no problem waiting. AND, I was HOME!!! Super glad that part of my journey was over. Once I actually got to The Raleigh Hertz drop-off, the attendant informed me, because I had not refilled the 1/4 of a tank of gas I used, she was going to have to charge me $9.99 per gallon to fill that baby back up. The multi-protected person at the Hertz counter in CHARLOTTE had told me I wouldn't have to fill the car back up because I had pre-paid for the gas (remember the $57 charge?) The Raleigh attendant decided some compassion was due me, and (hopefully...I'll know in a couple days), she corrected the mistake and only charged me $15 for the gas I used. Again...*whew

 Are you up for a little back story? 

The day Dennis flew out of Raleigh, NC to Springfield, Missouri (3rd time in 2 months), I dropped him off at the airport at 4 AM, came home, ate some breakfast, and headed to the salon for a full day of clients. As soon as I was finished there, I decided to go shopping for a shelf needed for some new spa products I was adding to the salon's retail line. After securing my find, I headed home. While waiting in a merge lane for traffic to slow, a car across the median came flying out of nowhere, rammed the backside of another car heading the same way I would be going, consequentially catapulting her car into mine. Took me out in a matter of seconds. I was unharmed, just couldn't get out of my car, since the driver's door was bashed in at the hinged part and shoved into the front fender.

Lindsey closed down her photo shoot in Raleigh, to come get her mother. I just can't believe how much our girls are willing to sacrifice for their momma. They worry about me I think. This was the first wreck I can remember being involved in since 1996. The one in Texas, where 3 young, and very drunk boys slammed into the back of our vacationing van full of people, ended a bit differently that this one. Yet, neither that accident, nor the most recent one, was my fault. I really am a good driver, despite that earlier account of driving from Charlotte to Cary. 😁

Side Note: There WAS that one time my back up beeper (that warns when I am getting too close to something), went off, and I just kept backing up. The tires were barely moving. Really. I was just trying to turn my car around on Meghan's narrow street that was lined with large plastic trash cans. I bumped one over. Don't believe anyone telling you any different. I just bumped it. That's it. Anyway...

Back to that day when the car hit the car that hit me. That was a Saturday to remember. Still working on getting my car back, or a new one...2 weeks later. But, I've been in Missouri. Soooo many wrong reports circling that accident. From the onset, the police officer got 2 of the insurances written out wrong, got my phone number wrong, then the middle car's driver, was suing MY insurance instead of the perps, etc. etc. Guess since the perps insurance was wrong, she'd take her chances with MINE! What the what?! Took me 2 days to find out the perps real insurance. But I did it! I've given my statement to 3 different insurances, but yet the one that is having to pay for this mess thinks I was hurt and needs "more information to send to Medicare" before they can process my claim. WHAT????!!! I wasn't hurt, and I don't think Medicare is going to care about your report.

Well....there is so much more that has happened in the last couple of months, actually the last year, but I'm thinking it was about time. Seems like life has been so very good to us, for such a long time. Not that it isn't still. Oh my! I (we) have so much to be thankful for. To be grateful for. These happenings were just little bumps in our road. True, there may have been a couple of mountains to move, recently, but mostly, just bumps. My sister used to say to me, "Mary, is this just a bump in your road? Or is it a mountain that needs your total attention?" They're just bumps, Beck. Just bumps. Mostly...

Except that time Walmart fired the wrong guy (my husband) and caused us to be without insurance and sent us a check to clear out all his PTO time. He didn't even KNOW he had been fired. He went to work, as usual, and wasn't allowed to clock in. So he went to the office to find out why. What a shocker. They had meant to fire another guy, but instead fired the best employe they may have ever had. Thirty plus years in and they fired him. Accidentally...How does one mix that up??? Anyway, everything was reinstated, and all is well. That was a few years ago. But, that's another story.

Okay...I'm needing to get ready for Enterprise to take me to the rental I will use until a verdict comes down on my abused Equinox. Wondering what this day will bring, I am at total peace and looking forward to seeing my Dennis tonight (hopefully). He is also flying with American. And boy, do I have a story about that initial trip! 😂 Can't say our lives are boring! Enough for today!

With grit and gumption, as always, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

The Restless Dream Land

Weird back-to-back dreams last night. All having to do with the salon. Yes, I'm going to share them, because they are seriously kinda funny. In a scary kind of way...

Dream #1:

I get to the salon. Many, many (maybe 20+) people (don't ask how they fit in there...it was a bigger place than I have now), were waiting for me. No appointments made. Just waiting for me to arrive. Expecting what, I'm not sure. I tell them to get out. 😂 I'm kind, like that. 😂

They had made a mess of the place, having brought in food and drink, and a bazillion kids. As I'm cleaning up after tossing their complaining whinnies out, I find almost ALL of my plastic color gloves in heaps on the floor, and strewn virtually everywhere. Good thing I believe in stocking plenty of everything I need to do business with.

Dorothy, a gal down the hall from me (who now works for me, I guess), told them not to leave, this was "a community effort". Oh yeah, Dorothy? Last time I checked, I was the owner and actual boss of this place. But she had already told them "WE" would charge $240 for them all. 😳. I think it was way back in the 1900's that I charged only $12 for anything.

Now...those of you who know me, know that wasn't going to fly. This bit of news didn't sit so well with me, simply because I couldn't believe she had decided it was her place to include me in a price she believed to be good. As I come face to face with her, looking her square in the eye, I say, "I charge $240 for ONE person, not 20! Her eyes widen...and I turn to walk away. Ugh! That was pretty mean of me. I guess in dreams we become who we really are inside, without control. Maybe?????End of Dream #1...

Dream #2:

A very faithful client of mine (we'll call her Carrie, to protect the innocent), had come to the salon for her monthly color services. We had decided to do a full head of foil on this particular visit, along with the retouch. Her husband had come with her on that day. Being the patient man that he is, he sat calmly scrolling through his phone, as I worked. Don't even know if that is relevant in this dream. But he was there, regardless.

Just as I finished putting 150 (or thereabouts) foils in her hair, and clipping the front foils from her face, the sconces on each side of the mirror started smoking and catching fire. I grabbed a paper towel so I wouldn't burn my fingers while getting the bulbs out before they exploded. Too late. They shattered just as I reached for the first one. Tim (we'll call him), just sat and watched it all. He's a very calm(ing) guy.

My mind was telling me I still needed to get the retouch product on Carrie's hair. Fire blazing, I turned to whip up the formula, Carrie and Tim left. WHAT?! ...Dreams are so crazy... 🙄

Next thing I know, some guy that is also in my employment, I guess, came up to me apologizing all over the place about Carrie's hair. I just looked at him and blinked. First of all, I didn't know who he was. And secondly, why is he apologizing for Carrie's hair? What in the world was he talking about? Then Carrie shows up, begging me to forgive her. Which, in real life, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't do, simply because there would be nothing to apologize for. But there she was, blazing red roots and the now, non-existent highlights of which I had just done a fabulous job with. Whoever this guy was, he had finished my job for me. Really finished it... End of Dream #2

So, you may be wondering what the moral of these two stories, er, dreams are. Or why I felt the need to share them. Me too. If anyone has any idea(s), besides me eating 7 Chicken and Cheese Taquitos last night, please divulge in the comments below. Maybe God just thought I needed a good chuckle. 😂

P.S.

I'm looking for anything. And, as always, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

Facing the Darkness: Heading Up...Volume 3

 

Even though I have not told everything I encountered during my walk on the dark side of life, I think perhaps I have shared enough. Until I feel a necessity, a God prod, those memories will be still. 

It's been almost 3 months since my last entry of Facing the Darkness. My last look back on the life that almost killed me. Physically, mentally, and spiritually. And, I am now anxious to share how God delivered me. How He called my name and set me in a place of real living. A place not free of trials, but a place of peace while walking through anything life places in my path. 

I will never forget the drive down Rush & Linda's (brother & sister-in-law) lane, coming "home" from a long day at Miami Beauty College. I was crying. So very lonely, still. I had asked God to guide me, to protect me, to please never leave me, to take charge of what was left of me. I had offered Him brokenness, and He was carefully picking up the pieces of what was left of me. But the journey I must take to get to the place He had pre-ordained for me, was not going to be easy. As I cried, driving down that lane filled with potholes, I simply said, "If only I could sit with my Father (meaning my dad). He would know what I should do." There was an immediate response to my spirit, that said, "I am your Father. You can talk to me anytime you want." There was an instant calm that came over me, even though I wasn't sure I would know any answers. I couldn't explain it any further than that. Still tears, yet instant calm. 

Only a few days after my return to Oklahoma, back in 1973, either my sister, Becky, or brother Ken, (maybe both), had asked me, "If you could do anything with your life, what would it be?" Since I had always dreamed of becoming a hair and skin care specialist, that was my reply. So, they contacted other brothers and sisters (I had a bunch), and they all agreed to secure me a place in the local beauty school. Even back then, it wasn't cheap! Yet, they were there for me. For their little wayward sister that had gotten her foot stuck. They knew I needed something to put my hands and mind to, to keep me from wandering back into the very dark abyss. I will also never, ever, forget the times my brother Ken, would find opportunity to stick a wad of bills in my hands, "to put gas in your car" or "in case you would like to go to lunch with someone".  Just remembering these times, has brought tears to my eyes, this morning. My heart is so full, because God put me in a family that loves unconditionally. I never felt I deserved them. I never felt deserving of what they selflessly gave up so I could stand up. I will be forever grateful. They grabbed me out of a pit so deep, so dark, and faced me toward the light of God's saving grace, His provision (with their hard earned dollars). That is how God chooses to provide. He uses His own family. We are His. We are His hands extended. And my family was willing...

I had just begun attending Commerce Community Church with a few of my family members, when a traveling minister came into town. After the meeting one evening, my sister-in-law and I were visiting with him. He asked us to come to where he would next be holding a tent-meeting revival. It was an old-time-sawdust-floor tent revival. We agreed to go on a Wednesday evening. This would turn out to be another event that has been burned/seared into my conscience. I was a new convert that was still wearing mini skirts, and looking much like a street walker. Linda was a lady that just loved looking nice. You would never catch her out and about without dangling earrings, red lipstick, hair properly fixed, and dressed to the nines, with matching heels.  

I was pretty bold/stupid/naive in those days, and being a new convert, I wanted to hear EVERYTHING, regardless of how I was dressed. So we marched our colorful little selves right up to the second row from the front. Sat in the middle of the row so we could easily hear the preacher speak and would have no problem seeing him. We were early. But then...the tent began to fill with its attendees. Little did we know we would be sitting in a pentecostal event where the women mostly wore long dresses, no makeup, and had long hair wrapped up in a braided bun on top of their heads. We felt as if we had walked into a black and white picture and a spot light had been turned on us, as we sat there, innocently, in vibrant living color. Linda immediately reached up to her dangling earrings, and with one smooth motion, pulled them gently off her lobes. Well, my ears were pierced, so that wasn't going to work for me, and I really didn't care. Still very young in Christendom. 😉

It was there that I met my forever husband-to-be. My eyes were on him the minute he pulled the tent curtain back, and walked to a seat directly in front of me. He was tall. He was blonde. His shoulders were broad, and his hands massive. I loved his hands! Every time he raised them in worship, I stared. I could feel the tender strength they embodied. He introduced himself to me 3 times that night. Every chance he got, he turned, reached out his hand for mine, and re-introduced himself. I think I must have confused the poor lad. Or he just wanted to hold my hand. Or look at all the color I brought to the room. I'm not sure. Maybe he just couldn't believe I was wearing a mini skirt to  a revival. 

The following week, the minister came to dinner at my brother and sister-in-laws house. One of the first things he said to me, as he sat down to eat, was "Do you remember the guy that sat in front of you at the meeting last week?" I said, "Yes. Dennis?" He confirmed that was his name (didn't have to, cause I remembered), and then said, "He asked me to set him up with you for a date." My heart may have jumped just a little. Dennis' church was having a pizza get together the following week where I agreed to meet up with him. I remember watching him chew on a drinking straw. I think I was really just taken with his lips. We've been together ever since that night, with only one little blurp along the way. It was right after his birthday, and I had given him a bracelet with his name engraved on the underneath side, along with a secret message. I had pooled my tips together to buy this very special gift for him. That moment in time lasted only a couple of weeks before he was back asking for me to go out with him again. Seems like several members of his church, along with another churches pastor, thought we would be a bad fit, and said he should break it off. That is a story I may talk about later. Or maybe not. Not sure...

My beautiful husband and I have been together for the better part of 47 years, now. I think we might make it. Like most marriages, we have had our tough places, our awesome sauce places, and our soul searching places. But we have had them ALL together!!! No partner should ever say, "I need some space," and then separate to "clear their head", or "see if we are meant to be together" kind of thing. That is ludicrous. How does one work things out when they are separated? Makes no sense. The only time I think one partner should leave the other, is when the marriage vows have been broken through mental, physical, or infidelity abuse. 

I will end this session with letting you know that I have no idea what a "honeymoon" is. Unless it is a description of choosing happiness, over sadness, and not just for the first month of being married. Our first date was July 3rd, 1974, and we married on December 14th, of that same year. Our first night of wedded bliss was in a local motel room, so we could move from our consecutive homes the next day. He had to go to work the following day, so a destination trip was out of the question. We had very little money, anyway. Dennis had sold $200-$300 in bonds, to pay for wedding decorations, pictures, and the wedding cake, and I had just graduated beauty school a few months before and was working for peanuts, as they say, then quit to move to Granby, MO. We would be living on his income for awhile. We had each other. That was enough.

 I will say this. We were both fairly new Christians. Ironically, we both gave our hearts over to God, in 1973, having never met until the following year. He came out of a world of drugs, and I from a world of loose living. What a pair! But God was moving us toward His purpose for our lives. Little by little.

I have no idea when the next entry will be, nor what it will be about. I'm just taking my cues from the Lord, who seems to have a mission, where my life's journey is concerned.  

As always, here you'll find me...in Mary's World