More Blessings to Count

I guess I would have to say that my second greatest blessing is my family—Gene, Ansley and Jack, first and foremost.  Gene is my life companion, my chief supporter, my best friend and confidant.  He takes care of me before he takes care of himself.  We worry and fret over Ansley and Jack, just like all parents do, as they face the challenges of making a life, a home, and careers for themselves.  Then there is the great joy we feel as we rejoice with them when things work out well and a milestone is crossed.  How blessed I am!

My extended family is also a great blessing.  I’m grateful to be a part of a relatively close-knit group.  We enjoy visiting and eating together and do it often.  Of this large group of relatives, my mother takes the “greatest blessing” award.  We don’t always see eye to eye and we fuss and fight from time to time, but at the end of the day, I thank God for my mother.  I’ve told this story before, but it could stand to be repeated, so again I’ll share this adventure of lunch with Vera.

Last winter while we were in Nashville I had lunch with my mother.  Just the two of us.  We hadn’t done that in a while.  How do we get so busy that we can’t have lunch with our mothers?  Anyway, there is a new restaurant that serves lobster bisque on Friday.  We had heard that it was very good and she can attest to that truth because she had tried it before. Because I drive this monster truck and have difficulty parking, she suggested that she meet me in Centennial Park and we ride in her car to the restaurant.  I was instructed to meet her on that “little road by the funeral home” at 12:45.  I was at the designated place at 20 til so I wait.  And wait, and wait, and wait.  Finally, she calls about 1 o’clock.

 “Where are you” she asks.  “I’m on the little road by the funeral home where you told me to be.  Where are you?”  “Well, I came in on the road by the funeral home and I didn’t see you so I drove all around the park.”  I try again with a slightly different approach….”so where are you now?”  “Well, I’m over here on the right in the first parking lot.”  “Is that across from Centennial Sportsplex?”  “Uh, yes” she replies.  “Stay put, I’ll come to you.”  I leave my cozy little parking spot on the road by the funeral home and head off toward the first parking lot on the right.  As I turned onto the main road, I saw her driving by.  With no place to quickly turn this tank around, I went out onto 25th and returned to the park via the little road by the funeral home.  Meanwhile, I gave her a call.  “Where are you going?”  “I just thought I’d go up here and get turned around so I would be heading in the right way.”  “Well, where is that?” I asked.

I finally got parked and in her car.  Off to the restaurant we went.  Ordering was an adventure.  We came especially for the lobster bisque and were glad to learn they hadn’t “sold out”.  We felt we needed just a little something else, so decided on sharing a sandwich.  We selected the grilled chicken.  Sandwiches come with coleslaw and French fries.  We didn’t want coleslaw and French fries.  Our nice young waitress informed us we could substitute.  Since we didn’t want broccoli or a baked potato, we said we’d split a small dinner salad and forget the sandwich.  “That’s not possible, we don’t split any of our salads.”  Okay, so bring us each a small dinner salad.  I ordered ranch dressing for mine and the nice young waitress asked Vera if she wanted ranch also.  “No”, Vera said and paused to think a moment.  “I think I’ll have ranch”.  The waitress was good—she didn’t laugh out loud.  I just smiled a great big smile and told her “it’s always an adventure”.

When we got back in the car, I noticed mother was having some difficulty starting the engine.  She tried a couple of times to turn the ignition.  Then she tackled that thing with both hands.  I asked what the problem was, and she explained that this has always been the hardest car to start.  “Well, I guess we won’t have to worry about you driving for much longer if you can’t get the car started”, I suggested, but she was not amused.  I, too, am plagued with arthritis in my hands and often get frustrated at not being able to open a bottle or do some other menial task.  Perhaps there is a tool which she, and others, might use to help start the car.  Wire pliers come to mind.

This was a wonderful lunch on a beautiful sunny day.  We’ve had many lunches together over the years.  Many have been remarkable in their own way.  Today, however, I rejoice around the laughter that my mother is still able to drive herself, carry on an intelligent conversation, and not spill too much food in her lap.  I rejoice to be able to still have lunch with my mother.

Thank you, Lord.

Counting Blessings

Thursday is Thanksgiving so I thought I’d start counting all that I have to be thankful for early.  I figure it will take me a couple days to name everything.  We are thankful everyday for our blessings, but often we get in a rut and name over and over those things which are foremost in our minds—food, clothing, shelter, and family.  I often find myself spending more time asking for more things than I spend being thankful for what I have already been given.  How selfish is that?

My greatest blessing is a Lord that watches over me every day, and it’s no easy task.  In fact, I don’t know how He has time for anybody else.  Just this morning, I had to stop and say “thank you, Lord” that a display of glass jars of homemade pumpkin didn’t all fall in the floor when I ran into it with my grocery cart.  I certainly don’t want to forget that He kept me safe amongst the Nashville drivers as I made my way to and from the grocery.

Not only does He help me out, He is constantly providing opportunities for me to help others.  Isn’t that a great blessing—the ability to help others?  Today, while at the grocery, I had two opportunities to help fellow shoppers.  One was a very pleasant woman who was in one of those electric wheelchair carts.  She needed a bottle of safflower oil from the top shelf.  That was easy to do.  Not only was she appreciative and thanked me several times, but she also told me what she was going to do the safflower oil.  She rubs it all over her body to help prevent dry skin.  Now there’s a tip.  I’m afraid I’d slip off the sofa if I did that and I hate to think of all that oil being washed down the shower drain into my gray tank.  Does safflower oil have an odor?  Would it attract mice?  I’ve had a mouse in the house.  That’s no fun.  I think I’ll just stick with my Vaseline Intensive Care lotion.  The other shopper I had the privilege of helping was a younger lady who was searching through jelly and jam when I turned the corner into that aisle.  She asked if I saw any cranberry jelly.  As I sent her down a few rows to the canned fruit I decided jellied cranberry sauce wouldn’t be all that bad on toast.  I’d hold the peanut butter, though.

As I went through the checkout, I was grateful to have the shopping done for the Thanksgiving festivities coming up this week.  If you know me at all, you know I’m not fond of shopping and that includes groceries.  But I was in store for one more blessing from this single shopping experience—Gene’s quiet “thank you, Lord” as I handed him the receipt which came in almost $10 under the budget.

The gratitude I felt as each of these incidents occurred, paled in comparison to the “Hallelujah, praise Jehovah” that passed my lips when Peanut didn’t fall in the toilet.  God is good all the time!