Monthly Archives: August 2020

FROM THE PORCH: Much Has Changed, Much Has Not

29 Saturday Aug 2020

Posted by in Family, Life

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The other day I ran across a picture of my husband and me sitting on the front porch of a house we rented for a year in a subdivision off Hwy 94 West. I don’t know who took that picture, but I could hug them.

Who were those youngsters? Lean and strong, the summer of 1983, and that was our real hair color! It is no longer; and that’s just one of many changes. The two sweetest kids on earth, ages “almost 4” and 6 years old called us Mama and Daddy. Thankfully only the ages have changed – they’re still sweet, and we’re still Mama and Daddy. We were ten years into our marriage with no clue as to what would become of our dreams and aspirations, but we just got up and did what we did each day to make those come true. Some of that changed too. I cleaned a lady’s house for $10 once a week and stuffed envelopes for a neighbor. I have no idea what he paid me but it was rich for me just to stay home with my little ones and still earn enough gas money to get one to kindergarten, then first grade, and keep the other one and her sippy-cup safe. It let me pay a little each month on the Sears account that carried our important ‘must haves’.  My mother told me, “As long as you send ten dollars each month, they can’t say a thing about it.” (She knew from experience.) Boy, has that ever changed!

But now,  that man in the picture – oh my oh my, that right there was my giant. And that hasn’t changed! He kept two or more jobs going at once; farming for us and driving spreader trucks for Hutson’s Ag Co. from before daylight ‘til after dark. By night, we remodeled the farm house on the 50 acres we were finally able to buy that fall. There on our rented porch sat the desire for our own home and the gumption to get it done. If he spent five dollars on himself in a week, it was rare. As long as his little family was safe and sound, he kept his nose to the grindstone and then came home to love us just as hard. I did what I could to help in farming, which was mostly running him back and forth since we didn’t live on the land he tended. I think I helped in the tobacco fields that summer as I always did, to some extent, but without his leadership and determination my part would have amounted to nothing. The experience he brought to that porch was of doing everything the hard way, as his dad had also farmed alone, and seemed to make any task all the more tedious. Well, the truth is just the truth. 

As the year on that porch went by we encountered several other alterations; a scary diagnosis for our son, which was resolved, but grew our faith and proved the love of our family and friends. It was from that porch we saw our children make new friends, and learn to ride a bike. Carrying our belongings up those steps one January and back down the next, my husband shouldered more than furniture and boxes. He knew it was make or break time. Never a fan of paying rent, he wasn’t about to any longer than necessary. That year though, renting was exactly right for us. The span between getting back up on our feet, and easing back into the saddle of debt, was the breath of confidence we needed. It was both humbling and inspiring. I’ve always suspected that someone was paying a portion of our rent because it was so affordable, and because my mother was determined to get her grandchildren back in her school district. I smile as I write that. But we managed to pay what we were told, and still believe, was the monthly rate, and I do recall a portion of the rent was paid by my husband hauling in dirt and single-handedly shoveling it around the foundation of the house to take care of a water drainage problem. Seems he was always moving earth to make ends meet. We were too busy to know we were living at poverty level, as we were told later; but we never were hungry for anything and slept like babies.

I am not proud to say our focus was not on God those years. Oh we believed, and took the kids to church;  we listened to John Dale’s encouraging lessons on the radio on Sunday nights, but our focus was surviving and enjoying our children. God’s focus however, was on us, as His hands were all over us, preparing us, pruning us and proving us. Somebody was praying mightily for that young couple sitting there on that porch. The hardships we had faced for a decade were lain on the steps of the porch and we stood on them to look forward in spite of our imperfections. The fear and uncertainty that must have gripped my husband’s heart each morning were felt by our Lord Who anointed  his head for protection and filled our cup to overflowing. 

None of us know what the next day will hold, but I can tell you Who holds each day, and He sees your pain, your effort, your joy. He works wonders with the poorest of seasons. “Remember His marvelous works which He has done, His wonders and the judgments of His mouth.” (I Chronicles 16:12 NKJV) One day, you see an old photo and think, oh my, who were those children? It doesn’t matter. It does not matter, if they didn’t know who they were, for God did. If you’ve never been through a drought, you can’t imagine how good the rain feels. 

“For the Lord your God has blessed you in all the work of your hand. He knows your trudging through this great wilderness. These forty years the Lord your God has been with you; you have lacked nothing.” (Deuteronomy 2:30 NKJV)

WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO PDQ?

10 Monday Aug 2020

Posted by in Encouragement, Life, MONDAY MUSINGS

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Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

As we travel through life, with so many branches in our journey, there comes along every so often a twig of something from the past. Something we hadn’t thought of in years and we wonder, why had I forgotten that, as much as I liked it, or as important as it was? 

PDQ is a sore spot between my husband and me because I had it and he didn’t. Well, he is kidding, mostly, but I was more privileged he says, in some ways; maybe because we lived in town when I was in those formative years, being exposed to a number of things he wasn’t.  When I say, ‘formative’ I’m not referring to the Wonder Bread use of the word, but rather to those elementary school years being a time of forming tastes and attitudes as well as some really great  memories. Throughout the tapestry of my life, I have changed many of the threads but the basic shape and design are still the same. Because of the people and landscape of those years, we learn to be the adults of our future. My point is not to debate nature versus nurture, nor even the pros and cons of more versus less. I would tend to be on the “less is more” side, but I digress. Back to PDQ, you probably know it was a granular form of deliciousness; light-as-air pellets of chocolate, strawberry or eggnog flavor to add to milk. One day years ago, I asked my kids and husband if they remembered it, and they had no idea what it was.  Recently I googled its whereabouts and found it was not manufactured past the mid-90’s. I haven’t seen it since the 70’s. It’s just one of those things, among many, my mother bought for us when we were living at 1709 Miller Avenue in Murray, Kentucky, 1961-1965.

Murray, like all towns, has changed with growth and has been cloaked with advances in technology and modern moralities. But underneath, it’s basically the same caring community, proud of its heritage and revolving around family and faith. From the beautiful autumn leaves along Ninth Street where I walked from Poplar to the Austin Building as a third grader, to the current day walking park of the MSU Arboretum, the beauty of our town is evident. I was seven when my parents moved us from the Lynn Grove community into town, where we lived by the water tower. I liked having that point of reference and when I was nine or ten, I almost resented it when Edwin Cain built next door, between us and the tower. No longer could I say, “we live next to the water tower”.  I loved our neighborhood and formed life-long friendships there. We didn’t all stay in touch, but there was the recognition of happy times when I ran into any of them. Some have passed away, most still live around here, and my first BFF who lived across the street now lives across the country. Sandy Perfilio Jordan, you know Arizona with all its natural beauty just can’t measure up to the beauty of MKY (wink). Well, at least our trees; which brings me to another “what ever happened” thought. 

One of my favorite autumn experiences has always been the raking and burning of autumn leaves. I know, smoke, smoke, smoke, right? The rustling sound of walking through shin high golden leaves; the aroma of clean burning leaves similar to wood fires; and the charred ditches along the roads – the whole bit – I loved it all. We had two huge pecan trees and several maples where we raised our children on Brandon Road. One of my happiest memories is when it was time to rake leaves, sweeping them away from the house toward the road, often piling the masses onto an old sheet to drag them to the shallow ditch. Along the way, my kids would run and jump into one of the crunchy mountains, followed by the dog and shrieks of laughter and “stop scattering my leaves”! After sundown, we lit those leaves up and sat back satisfied with a clean yard and good exercise. By that time of day, it was often chilly, so the heat of fire felt good too. It wasn’t too different from sitting around a fireplace on a winter evening sizing up the day’s work. Then, looking up into the trees at the remainder of red, gold and brown, I decided God probably meant those leaves to best serve as a ground mulch and insulator for perennials. 

Now, I am not naive enough to think any of that leaf raking is a popular opinion; but it’s mine. My opinion, and I have a right to it;  like so many differing opinions and attitudes developed from somewhere deep in our history, we have a right to them as long as we aren’t hurting someone else in the use of them. I think maybe my right to voice my passions, stops when I allow it to take priority over common courtesy. What ever happened to that? It would be difficult to convince me there are any issues which legitimately require hateful tactics, or hurtful words in order to be heard, or made better. From the man who cuts me off to get somewhere first, to the meanness of property destruction, there is less courtesy and consideration than there used to be, but if we do not allow those exceptions to take our focus off the right thing, we will see all the kindness and sunny dispositions for which this community has been rightfully known.

God has always known what is best for us. He did not say “Be ye kind as long as you’re ahead” did He? He did say, “add to your faith virtue, to virtue knowledge, to knowledge self-control, to self-control perseverance, to perseverance godliness, to godliness brotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness love.” (II Peter 1: 5-7 NKJV)  Guilty as the next person in speaking my mind, I really have to watch myself or I become “that person”. But with the faith and knowledge, I should persevere in self-control until kindness is my automatic reaction. I’m truly sorry to all who’ve been the victim of any unkindness from me. Having said that, I am moving on.

I would sure love for them to bring back the ten cent Mr. Malty! That was my favorite Dairy Queen treat; back when we as children could walk the five and a half blocks with a dime in our pockets and no fear. What ever happened to that?!