Author Archives: trishascoffeebreak

The Boston Bully (Number 6 in Ocean View)

07 Monday Nov 2022

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“Better a patient person than a warrior, one with self-control than one who takes a city.” (Proverbs 16:32)

How do you describe a single frantic moment or incident, where four individual forces are blended as one spinning top with two layers, each going opposite directions at once? A cyclone, a tornado? On our second day of Seaside living, my dog Auggie and I called one such moment the ‘Boston Bully’. Minding our own business as we took a doggy walk, we were taken by surprise along the sandy fenced walkway, where small garden gates gave access to the walk from each home’s lawn or porch. Suddenly, through one gate, as if thrown from a whirlwind, a black and white cyclone was out of the gate, yapping and chasing Auggie, evading his master’s “Max, Max, Max! Come back! Max!” The Boston terrier was all chase and no heeding the call; out. of. control!

Auggie wonders, “Which way home?“

At the same time, Auggie’s fight or flight kicked in and it was all flight, no fight, with Auggie running counter clockwise around me and my clockwise attempt to intercept, impeded by leash and the outer circle of Max and his master’s continual circling, which boosted Auggie’s speed to avoid being devoured. After I finally grasped my part of the spinning top, Max was snatched up by his equally surprised owner. In those few seconds, it was easy to identify two separate personalities. Though about the same size, one was bossy, aggressive and out of control; the other was meek and under control, albeit by harness and leash more than his own. I imagine Max was accustomed to bullying, or taking charge outside his master’s reach. Auggie, on the other hand was anchored, under the control of his master, in reach of safety. With nothing to prove to this wild one, Auggie’s aim was to get out of his way. As soon as he saw his master’s out-reached hands, he leapt into my arms. Meekness, they say, equals strength under control; peace seeking; the desire to do (and receive) no harm. Auggie displayed no snarling, barking, nor attitude; just “get me outta here”.

I laugh now remembering the embarrassed (if not somewhat fearful) manner of apology from the Boston bully’s owner. Scooping up his little sidekick, he kept repeating, “I’m sorry…sorry…sorry…” and with a sudden effort to see the whole situation vanish, he confidently finished, “HE’S SORRY!” The cyclone over, I could only stand with mouth gaped, no sound coming forth. I wish I could’ve said something smart, or kind, but I was literally speechless; and winded. We gratefully resumed our walk and never saw the little bully again; somehow I think we made his day.

When encountered by the world’s unleashed whirlwinds, or chased by a cyclone of fear, God promises to stand firm, an unmovable anchor for our soul. He says to be patient; to exercise self-control, and He will make the way of escape. (I Corinthians 10:13, Hebrews 6:18-19)

My next “Ocean View” will be Sunset Goodbyes. It may take more than a week because I am still learning to navigate my own emotions through some of life’s goodbyes. Then again, it may be a short and sweet goodbye to the “Ocean View” series. I hope you have enjoyed the reminiscing as well as seeing, as I do, the reminders of His character our Creator placed in nature. Until then, have a beautiful week. Trisha

HOCO 22

31 Monday Oct 2022

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I am taking a break from “Ocean View” this week, as I used my time in preparing and enjoying our daughter’s visit for her alma mater’s homecoming. Boston Bully, the subject of my next “Ocean View” will have to wait. Being focused lately on the beach blogs has had me chomping at the bits to mention the amazing autumn colors. I join the ranks of those who’ve been seen with jaw dropped and cell phone pointed into nature. Many of us doubted the drought would allow much color, but I have been pleasantly surprised, and I’ve heard several of you say the same. I myself have been afflicted with leaf envy; the most exquisite red trees are not in my yard.

I am probably prejudiced, but I think our home town is one of the prettiest in the fall. As we shuffled through leaves to watch the homecoming parade from the end of Ninth Street, I reminisced walking that very same street decades ago. Tuesday’s rain had settled the dust and Saturday morning’s cool breeze stirred a familiar aroma in the maple leaves; one which took me back to the third grade when our neighbor delivered her daughters and me to the corner of Poplar and Ninth. We walked the leaf-covered sidewalk from there, to what was then called the Austin Building until our new elementary school building was completed. Perhaps many of those very same trees had shed the leaves I now watched my great nephews playing in after the parade.

Ninth and Main
Common Sumac
Homecoming 2022

I await October all year; which is odd in a way…so many losses to our family and our friends’ families have occurred in these autumn months. Yet, as I was saying to a dear friend recently, it is as if God presented us the great beauty of autumn to comfort in our losses, ease the discomforts of losing summer, and soften the forces of seasons He knew we would necessarily weather in this life. I cannot describe in one post all the beauty I see in October, and now, tomorrow it bids us farewell for another year. I am thankful for the few roses that have hung on to decorate our life, but soon they too will be gone. The yellow and burgundy chrysanthemums have shown like neon lights, and now begin to show their age. The weekend rain is helping trees and shrubs shed these colorful leaves, leaving them bare and resting, for a new year. It is a fitting time for homecomings; reminding me of how farewells eventually bring around welcome hello’s. Life teaches us to say “ta-ta”; and as well, to anticipate with joy, eventual homecomings. This month has just evaporated (probably the fault of the extreme drought) and all too soon winter will be upon us, but take heart…we will be that much nearer the regeneration of Spring. Then, again we will be jaw dropping and photo snapping. The comfort is that in a world of so much change, some things never do.

Daughter and granddoggy; my other flowers.
October roses

Footprints In The Sand

24 Monday Oct 2022

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Fifth in the Ocean View series….There is a very pleasant sound when the earth is in motion; when the waves wash ashore from the sea.

My friend Linda’s daughter and grandson

After lunch today I was glued to the patio, soaking up the sun’s warmth and the cooling breeze; transported back to – you guessed it – the beach. It has become my Sunday afternoon ritual to remember, reflect upon, and relive those special moments. Finding reminders of God, and certain lessons I gathered in the tidbits of nature only God could make, I began this series of “Ocean View” to share thoughts and experiences I’m sure we have in common, about visits to an ocean. I’m fairly certain no one who has walked in the sand, has missed the fascination of watching a perfect impression be washed one wave at a time, out to sea. It’s almost a game to guess how many waves will completely erase our footprints. Among the many parallels we can draw from those vanishing footprints, is foremost to me, the fact we are “here today and gone tomorrow” as they say.

“He has shown you, O man, what is good; And what does the Lord require of you But to do justly, To love mercy, And to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8 NKJV) This is one of my favorites; yes I do have several, but I mean this is in the top five! As I “walk humbly” with God, what kind of footprints am I making? Whose am I following?

Some impressions make a strong impact, some only a mild influence. Nevertheless, they are real. Just as a real person made real prints in the sand, our lives make real impact on those about us, impressing for good, or not. As I watched the first ripple blur the edges of my footprint, then the second wave melt the impression down to an outline, the third wash totally took the print out to sea; a million grains at once. Will any one of those grains enter the clam who would make a pearl of my impression? I’ll never know. While we don’t want to get too caught up in our own presence, or make too much of it, there is something to think about here. Actually, we may not realize fully enough the impact we make. After all, the prints were real and while we may not see them linger, their image lives in our memory; we were there, making footprints in the sand. Who might be following? To whom do our footprints lead?

Are my footprints just aimlessly meandering this way and that? Is it like trying to follow the gull’s scrambled tracks? If on the other hand, they are sure, and true, they will lead to the good shepherd Who knows every sheep by name. If my prints help someone to recognize the good shepherd’s voice, they will hear and follow Him. “When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger’s voice.” (John 10:4-5 NIV)

I have only the few moments of my imprint before it is washed out to sea. Will there be any impression or influence worth the effort God put into making me? (Because He has had to do a lot of work on this gal!) As we compete with flashy high-tech toys in gaining the little ones’ attention, I catch myself wondering, will the glint in my eye and the grin on my face ever be enough for them to remember something good about me? Wow, how vain that sounds, but isn’t it true? I feel I’m not the only one who wants to be remembered by her loved ones as one who loves them; as having a positive impact in their lives.

In the first couple years of public school, I encountered two very different women. One, our sitter we called Miss Frocie, and then there was my teacher. All I remember about the teacher is fear, and a broken self image. Miss Frocie however, went about her humble daily life with a song. Literally. I am taken back to her little house every time I hear “Footprints of Jesus” (by Mary B. C. Slade) She sang it, hummed it, and taught it. She had a picture of the “Last Supper” over her kitchen table. Though she was not a doting gooey-sweet sitter, she took care of us and made a terrific lemon icebox dessert I wish to this day I could duplicate! The impact of one became a part of me that if I’m honest, I never got over. The other one influenced me to love Jesus, Terri Lee dolls and lemon desserts. Footprints of Jesus…”🎼And we see where Thy footprints falling, lead us to Thee.” 🎵 He, Jesus, is the way, the truth and the life. You’ll find no better prints to follow.

So, it is true. One day they will say of me, “here today and gone tomorrow”. Will there be any marks left to point the way for those to come after me; any impact to assure friends and family of their importance to me; and will a single grain of my walk be a pearl I can return to the Father for the beyond-amazing life He has designed.

In Revelation 14:13, John was given this knowledge to impart to us: “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on…that they may rest from their labors, and their works follow them.”

Now go walk in the sand, and marvel at the works of God’s hand. Trisha

Sea Creatures – Show Time!

17 Monday Oct 2022

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Number Four in the “Ocean View” series.

I’m having fun reliving our mini trip to the ocean, reading over notes I made while there. I hope you enjoy the view from my beach chair. And I hope my husband is still speaking to me after this one😁.

We hit the road with no particular expectations; simply a prayer for safety. I sought only the sweet breath of the ocean; to be quiet, still, and to receive the gift of peace I had discovered in years past, peace I found in the solitude as I looked out over the expanse, forgetting the world at my elbows. I asked for nothing more, except to hope the trip would be good for my sidekick too. I was about to be reminded of God’s way of presenting gifts beyond our imagination, in the here and now. Before your eyebrows fuse in that position, I ask, would we pray for daily provisions if we did not believe good gifts are part of this life, as well as life in eternity? Let me unwrap the gift of just one day we received on the beach at Seaside.

“…And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters…Then God said, ‘Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters.’…and the gathering together of the waters He called Seas. And God saw that it was good.” (Genesis 1: 2b, 6, 10b)

So, if I read that correctly, waters were there on the second day, before there was land on the third day. And God saw that it was good. By the fifth day the seas and heavens were so pleasing they were given life to inhabit them. (“Then God said, ‘Let the waters abound with an abundance of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the face of the firmament of the heavens.‘ ” Genesis 1:20) Inconceivable – to us, but who are we? A god who can make all creatures great and small to inhabit earth, water, and air, would have no problem at all preparing their habitation.

Did you realize (I didn’t until now) that it was the sea life and birds of the air who were first “blessed” by God! It says so in verse 22. That’s the first recorded time of God blessing His creation. And here we were, blessed, in front row seats to witness one little slice of that creation. It seemed they were showing up and showing out just for us, as if they knew our time to be there was short, Gary’s endurance was limited, and the flies would come biting tomorrow. Yes, Day one of our beach trip, Gary’s first ever, was nothing short of a gift. ON with the show…

Now I know most of you have experienced so much more, our trip pales to a ghost in comparison. We didn’t swim with the dolphins, nor go snorkeling with the undersea life, but I assure you we were extraordinarily entertained by this show rehearsed for thousands of years. From our first step into the crystal clear water with ghost crabs the size of a large hand, to the larger than life sunset, we enjoyed one new thing after another. We laughed at the tiny lightening-quick sand crabs popping in and out of the sand as the soft gray and white gulls did their best to grab them in their hide and seek game. We watched schools of small slender fish at the waters edge, like synchronized swimmers performing a routine. First this way, then reverse, that way, and back again, until they danced out of the spotlight.

As usual, there were a few jellyfish here and there, but I’d never seen one being carried in a sand pail, it’s gelatinous excess spilling over the sides of the child’s pail. One look at a youngster rubbing his leg told us the jellyfish had been a bad sport and now faced the consequences as it was carried away to be buried in the sand. Ugh.

While we didn’t swim with dolphins, they were certainly on parade! At first it was a barely recognizable image of forms leaping on the horizon. Soon another group, or the same, I have no idea, had come closer, leaping, arching, splashing to our pleasure! I squealed like a kid on Christmas morning with a coveted new toy. A third time, even nearer, the show stopping acrobats were between us and a young man on a paddle board who had gone farther out than these dolphins! Arms all along the beach were pointing out to sea and there was a congregational “whoa!” What a thrill for me to see, but even more so, that they came to play for a 70 year old who’d never even seen the Gulf before. HIs only other ocean view had been a chilly shore in Maine years ago. I had by now, begun to explain to him this day was not the usual but a gift – perfect weather, no annoyances and sea life abundant.

After a while of admiring the natural beauty, I had to remind my husband this was not the mall. People-watching would not be good for his health. With tongue in cheek, I say there were more creatures than jellyfish jiggling on the beach. After wearing a towel over his head for a few minutes, he decided to watch his feet turn red and play games with the gulls. Live and learn. After a short time of quiet I opened my eyes to find gulls gathering a bit too closely. I had cautioned him regarding these gluttonous feathered friends, but alas, I caught him with his hand in the lunch bag, pulling out pretzels to break and toss. (I know, I know. But I mean, when a man so diligently directs his vision per wife’s instruction, who’s going to scold?) One gull quickly became three or four, looking at him with expectant “don’t stop now” expressions. We laughed as each one grabbed a piece of pretzel, chop stick-style and ran toward the water just in case this land lubber wanted his treats back.

The final layer of gift wrap to reveal our pleasure of the day, came in the midst of a growing crowd off to our left. I had become quite comfortable drying in my sunny chair, so Gary eased off in the direction of the ado, ready to snap a picture of whatever the people were following. There was from my vantage point a shadowy figure slowly moving about 15 to 20 feet off shore, being followed by the crowd. I thought perhaps a large fish, or small dolphin, had floated to shore and I did not want to see a dead one. Just as I realized it was moving intentionally, it swam out of sight and the crowd dispersed. Before Gary returned, I asked our neighbors, the Markeys (from last week’s post), what had been the attraction, and to my dismay, they reported A LARGE SEA TURTLE! Fish fur! Of all the times to sit on my butt! I was happy though that Gary was privileged to see it and his camera caught just the edge of it from where he stood. My true concern was possibly this wonder of a creature had thought it to be time and place to come ashore and lay her eggs, then was frightened away. We were not graced by her presence again.

Millions of people over the years have been entertained and impressed by natural wonders we may just take for granted. But what a gift; and as any of us can truly say, “You did this all for me?! Awwww, thank you! ” I love the lyrics to “Who Shall Stand Before the King” (R. J. Stevens Music, LLC) It is taken from Psalm 24, which begins, “The earth is the Lord’s, and all its fullness, the world and those who dwell therein. For He has founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the waters.” Who indeed can stand before the King; I am not worthy. But I have stood before his creation, received the gift, at peace, amazed, and grateful. Trisha

The edge of our sea turtle, upper left corner.

The Markey Family

10 Monday Oct 2022

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Third in “Ocean View”

There is a very pleasant sound, when the earth is in motion, like waves come ashore from the sea. Like children’s laughter and gulls o’er the ocean; a mother’s sweet voice in your sleep.

“And let us consider one another in order to stir up love and good works” (Hebrews 10:24 NKJV)

I first noticed them descending the two dozen or so steps to the beach, two babes in arms and one at their heels, and carrying bags of beach toys and towels. I said in passing, “wow, you’ve got your hands full”. She laughed and rolled on. We do have our hands full, I thought, as we navigate the stairs and baggage of life.

Upon returning later to the sandy bliss, I realized their beach umbrella and chairs were set up next to ours. The little girls were as brown as biscuits against the white sand, and I later learned their ages were one, two and a half, and six years old. An absolutely beautiful family, the parents were so calm and tender with the children, encouraging their play and soothing their fears. Mom Markey (fictitious name, since I did not ask permission to use their real name) approached me in the water complimenting the bandana I wore, and said she used to have a bandana in every color and also received compliments. Her reply to those, she said, was “Thank you, it’s what I do when my hair needs to be washed.” I revealed it’s what I wear because my hair has thinned and needs to be styled! We shared a laugh and knew we, as women, had in common the need to fix things. After a brief conversation, I learned they are from Texas, he is a youth minister and she, in need of prayer, a minister’s wife. Bless them! I have no idea where they are in their journey of knowledge and faith, but I do know she is a firm believer in prayer. Because of some things we discussed, I knew I would remember and pray for them. Then she really touched my heart as she said, “when we cross your mind, that’s probably when we need your prayer most”. Her next comment was just raw naked truth – “it seems that when he (her husband) is preparing for the occasional times he does pulpit speaking, we are feuding and fussing – satan is stirring discord – the kids are getting upset…” Oh Father God, have mercy on the young families all over the world who must go through this! The devil sees all effort to learn of God’s will, as his chance to wreak havoc. Just like the Markey family, there seem to be more poison arrows than we have shields to deflect; until we remember God and His shield, the only one big enough for the job. (“above all, taking the shield of faith with which you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one.” Ephesians 6:16) Faith in God, our BIG shield; and this sweet little momma juggling dependability (as a wife), disappointment (as a daughter) and duty (as a mom) had faith that my prayers would be heard. Momma M., “I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13) and so can you, and so can dad M. Do not give up! Study hard and grow far.

It was refreshing when the six year old splashed out to us, declaring her name was Mary, and showing me her painted fingernails. She said, “I was named after baby Jesus’ mother!” In turn, I shared with her my love for John chapter 20 in which a different Mary went searching for Jesus; and I showed her my blue toenails. Her giggles assured me I was cool, and she waded back to shore, bodyboard in tow. Mary didn’t seem ready to trust the bodyboard beneath her, but kept carrying it around with her instead. We moms, in a similar way, don’t always completely trust that shield of faith but we keep carrying it, and one day, if we grow, we will let it carry us.

“When we cross your mind…” Yes, and if I cross your mind, pray for me too. Satan has no limits on age and occupation. We all face adversity. Quite possibly God, in bringing me to mind, has sought for me, your prayer.

Trisha

LIGHTED PATHWAYS

03 Monday Oct 2022

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Second in OCEAN VIEW series

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” Psalm 119:105

The only features of our “pet friendly” accommodations made known to me, prior to arriving, was the $200 fee. I left home with questions, like, would he be welcome on the beach? Would there be a pet check-in to present his required vaccination status? Most importantly, would we have a place to take our morning walks? The answers turned out to be yes, no, and yes, in that order. Sadly, even though dogs were allowed on the beach, I never made time to show Auggie the ocean; maybe another time. As for the check-in, no human interaction occurred other than the many oohs and aahs and “may we pet him” offers. The morning and evening walks were a dream come true! Soft sandy paths connecting the houses, streets, restaurants and the beach, were wrapped with cute little picket fences every step of the way. Best of all were the lights! Perfectly placed along and low on the fences, at just the right level to illuminate our path, were automatic lights. Everywhere. We never had to walk in the dark, nor search for light switches. No flashlight necessary; no effort on my part, the light was always on time and enduring. Not unlike God’s word, right? May I make a couple more comparisons? Walk with Auggie and me as we continue to see similarities between our path’s golden glow and God’s word.

I wish I’d taken a picture of our walking path after dark, to show how our steps were not darkened by the many shadows cast by trees and buildings which stood between us and overhead street lights. This was due to the shin-high lamps illuminating our path. I was reminded of Psalm 119:133 “Direct my steps by Your word, and let no iniquity have dominion over me.” Truly our path was not overshadowed. I didn’t trip, and Auggie wasn’t startled; at least not in the dark. Only once, during daylight, did our path encounter a bully who had escaped from its owner. But that’s another story, and a comical one at that.

Path to the beach at sunset

Some well-intended light sources can be glaring, or blinding, like headlights on high-beam or a porch light so bright it ruins the ambience. These pathway lamps had just the right glow – easy on the eyes and pleasantly guiding the way. Again in Psalm 119, “Your word is very pure; therefore your servant loves it.” (verse 140) Here again we see the likeness between our pathway lamps and God’s word. We open it and read of the love put into showing us the way as God Himself breathed the inspired word for our benefit. It is not meant to be used as a weapon to battle each other, but to bring light to a world darkened by the work of satan. Many times Jesus pointed out how the Pharisees used the law to entrap and segregate. But Jesus came bringing life, “and the life was the light of men” (John 1:4) A light to our path.

One other helpful feature I noticed about our pathway lamps was the appropriate spacing. This way the whole path is well lit, eliminating spot lighting with gaps. We could walk confidently, knowing what was ahead. What a comfort on unfamiliar ground! In Psalm 119:50 the writer, speaking of God’s word, said “This is my comfort in my affliction, for Your word has given me life.”

It’s a beautiful thing how the Word was with God, and, looking down on the darkness of this world, became flesh, suffering the darkness Himself, to become the light that would save the world. And returning to Heaven, He left us the light of His word to guide us home too; light that is readily available, expertly placed, pure and easy to see, that we may walk confidently. Even under afflictions, through dark times, and in unfamiliar territory, His light comforts, right on time, enduring forever.

Ocean View

26 Monday Sep 2022

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There’s a pleasant sound when the earth is in motion, when the waves come ashore from the ocean.

We’ve just returned from a trip to Seaside, Florida, my husband and I, where we stood in the soft white sand and viewed those astounding color bands from crystal clear over our feet, to the deep blue where the ocean and sky meet. All those bands of aqua, green, and blue, are my favorite colors, but especially the brilliant sweep just before the horizon’s edge, like the blue from spring’s bluebird. I don’t know if it was merely getting to see the ocean again, or the thrill of witnessing my husband’s first view of the Gulf, but whatever it was, it trickled from my eyes and made me clap my hands. “The vastness of it…” was all we could utter for a while.

From the moment we arrived at our cottage called “Waves”, to our trip’s goodbye at sunset, I was thrust into a sea of beauty, both actual and metaphoric. Our upmost emotion as we stood in the unending waves was certainly gratitude; for a safe arrival, and for the beauty our eyes beheld.

I kept thinking of God’s question to Job in chapter 38. “Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said:…Or who shut in the sea with doors, when it burst forth and issued from the womb; when I made the clouds its garment, and thick darkness its swaddling band; when I fixed My limit for it and set bars and doors; when I said, This far you may come, but no farther, and here your proud waves must stop!” (verses 1, 8-11) It is good to feel so small; to know there is a grand and awesome presence more than our human strength and frailties. How humbling to know the God who created a force so great it grinds rock and shells into powder, yet so gentle children can splash at its edge; a pure wonder! But a wonder to be respected for sure, and not just a little caution should be taken while enjoying even the gentler side of this great body of water.

While my husband’s choice kept him knee deep distance from shore, I never can resist getting all in. Up to my chin in waves, my toes bouncing, touching the familiar feel of sand, I remembered the fisherman Peter. Immediately I knew we have been too hard on him, accusing him of little faith, though Jesus had a right to say so of His disciple. But we? Not so much! Peter at least had the faith to take a step, a leap of faith so to speak, out of the boat into the angry sea. It wasn’t a beautiful bright day with folks watching, floatation devices in hand. It was a stormy night where the only other companions were crying out in fear. It wasn’t chin deep, but “in the middle of the sea, tossed by the waves” that Peter professed to his Lord, “Lord if it is you…” Command me. I will come. And he stepped right out onto the rolling crashing waves, knowing it was Jesus Who called “Come”. Now, being human, he did take his eyes off Jesus and did begin to sink, and Jesus did save him. But I’m here to tell you, as I met my waves eye to eye, I could not say I would have stepped out of Peter’s boat. Just knowing my fear of approaching people with the gospel, I cannot say I would answer so boldly the call Peter heard. You can read about it in Matthew 14:22-33.

The call to become a Christian is one we hear through His Word. I answered by being baptized in a swimming pool, the nearest body of water at the time. I still get distracted and take my eyes off Jesus . I still start to sink. He still saves. I am thankful for Peter’s example, one of stepping out in faith in the first place. Whatever we feel God is calling us to do, let us echo the faith Peter demonstrated as he stepped out of the boat, and let us keep our eyes on Jesus.

The colors, the sounds, the vastness of it all, are part of what keep us going back to the ocean. Each time I’ve been I come away with new inspiration for life, from life. This is the first in a series of “Ocean View” I have washing around in my head. I hope you’ll join me as we discover little treasures on the beach with an ocean view. Trisha

Sept 22, 2022 Seaside, FL

Dear Mama

16 Friday Sep 2022

Posted by in Family, Poetry

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“Strength and honor are her clothing; she shall rejoice in time to come. …Her children rise up and call her blessed;” Proverbs 31:25, 28a NKJV

September 16 is a nice time of year; nicer because it’s the birthday of my mother. Now, my sister always made Mama proud, and pleased her in so many meaningful ways. Our little brother had his own unique way of being dear to her heart. But for some mother-ish reason, Mama liked my words, written. So, all I’ve ever done that seemed to me, to honor her was write, for her, on her special day. Somehow it does seem better than the scorched toast and dry scrambled eggs with a bud vase holding a chigger weed or clover bloom, which in my youth I’d be serving for her today, on a tray. I can imagine the mess she had to clean up after I got it done. I share the words in her honor, and because she would want me to.

Dear Mama

If Mamas could sell every tear they cried

And if they were paid for how hard they tried;

If happiness really, could be bought

And children learned every lesson Mom taught;

There’s no end to how happy and smart I’d be,

Because you’d have bought them just for me!

You’d have spent the tear treasures on everyone else,

And, perhaps, some SAS shoes for yourself!

For your big loving heart would always know

Where needs were calling, and your sore feet would go. 

You would be 91 today and I am celebrating your life; recalling the beauty of your heart in spite of the pain. Thanking God with a smile on my face for His grace in letting me be yours. 

A grateful daughter, Trisha                                    9/16/22

Daddy’s Little Ice Cream Buckets: My final “Daddy Story”

20 Saturday Aug 2022

Posted by in Family, Reflections

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As Daddy felt his time slowly pulling into the station, he asked me to start writing down his memories and we called them our “Daddy Stories”. I did write, and had printed into a booklet for him, 15 stories most of which were his. This was after his sight had failed but in time for him to hear someone else read back his memories to him and I suppose, to feel like he would not be forgotten. The following I write today, to add to the end of my Daddy Stories, as I watch another garden season ride by.

Near the end of August the garden, like our own aging, grows old, mature, less productive in some ways, more so in others. There is for me, the temptation to begin clearing the disorganized rows again as the picking and canning slows, but the garden itself is still teeming with life. About this time I also shake my head and wonder how those little seeds and sprouts in so short a time, became all this wilderness of blooms among crowded lanes of overgrown vines; and how grass and weeds appear overnight. I love how the drooping sunflower heads draw a crowd of goldfinches and intricately designed butterflies flutter throughout the zinnia, okra and purple hull pea blossoms. This is also a time of reflection; on the ones who planted, picked and preserved gardens before me, teaching me the joy of the process. I wonder how many times I’ll get to do it all over again, and I’m glad I do not know.

For the last couple decades of my daddy’s life we had made amends and grown closer. In my memory that nearness began to grow out of our shared interest in gardening. Sometimes on sunny afternoons, I would drive the half hour or so to his farm to watch his hummingbirds and admire his garden. As life goes, he eventually grew too old to do the work himself and he and his wife, Ms. Wanda, moved to our town of Murray, Kentucky. Here, he was able to drive out often to see my gardens, give his much needed advice, and take an occasional basket of beans or peas home to break and shell for me. When I returned the visits to pick up the readied beans or peas, he had them packed into round plastic gallon pails he called his ‘little ice cream buckets”. He would say, “now don’t even think about returning that little bucket; I’ve got a dozen of ‘em”.  But I would bring them back filled with okra, hot peppers and tomatoes for their enjoyment, and get to hear another “Daddy Story”. Over the years, I did keep a few (a smarter person would have kept many) of the pails with lids, which proved to be just about the most useful thing you can own, next to a pocket knife.

I do not truly believe there is a lot of difference in taste from one vanilla ice cream to another. As long as it’s not one of those ‘low carb’ or ‘no sugar added’ or some such concoction pretending to be good ice cream, they’re all pretty much the same to me. But daddy always, and I mean always, bought the “Dippin’ Kind” or, if that wasn’t available, Prairie Farms, which interestingly enough, also had to be in a round plastic pail. Once during the Covid isolation I called from Kroger reporting I could not find a plastic pail of vanilla ice cream, so was there another brand I could bring, to which he said, “No, I think they’ll have it over here at Food Giant”. Daddy did not have a particularly scrutinizing taste, but he did grow up in a time when everything that could possibly be reused, did. I am 100 percent sure he bought the Dippin’ Kind strictly for the plastic pail. There’s no telling how many uses we have found for those little buckets. 

I am down to only one of his little ice cream buckets with a lid, because  I’ve “used the far out of ‘em” as he’d say. As I washed it today, I was overtaken by emotion in thinking of the end of good things; like multipurpose little plastic pails, old men with softened hearts that want to be forgiven, and time…time for hugs and forgiveness. 

We learn as we go; it is the only way. While my amazing mother instilled in me the love for growing flowers and the satisfaction of a pantry lined with gleaming jars of canned tomatoes, beans, pickles, jellies and relishes, it was daddy’s love of growing and tending the garden, which I seem to have inherited as well. From them both, however, I learned to put the past behind, to fill my pails with love, close the lid on bad memories and plant the good ones; to be at peace. 

As long as God thinks I need to, and daddy’s little plastic bucket lasts, I’ll keep wagging it and my grandpa’s half-bushel basket to the garden to watch in amazement the whole God-inspired process of decaying seeds becoming fabulous food.  I’ll keep picking pails of peppers and okra, cucumbers and tomatoes, and pouring up shelled peas to keep for freezing and dropping broken green beans into it to guesstimate a full canner. 

Satan plants weeds from bad memories in effort to tarnish and destroy and make us bitter. I’m going to keep carrying those in my little plastic bucket straight to the garbage; then wash and rinse the bucket to hold the good scraps I take to the compost can, where they will eventually give rise to new generations of beauty. 

Life can leave you buckets of blessings and pails of problems for which we each will decide a purpose, and whether or not to make good use of them. I’ve filled my buckets hundreds of times over with useful as well as useless stuff; soapy water and a good scrap of terrycloth towel, cut flowers, fishing worms, good veggies and bad veggies, canning lids and rings, and packets of seed in the freezer to plant another year; scraps of iron and chain and rocks I‘ll never use; popcorn, pecans and grilling supplies; and I’m sure that doesn’t even get near the number of uses Daddy found for his ice cream buckets. I treasure the ‘late summer garden’ time of his life when he was less productive in some things and more so in others, with stories to tell, and little ice cream buckets of wisdom and love to share with his children.

“To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck what is planted.” Ecclesiastes 3:1-2

Bunny Chase

31 Sunday Jul 2022

Posted by in Encouragement, MONDAY MUSINGS, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Enjoying the rain from our kitchen window with my first cup of Portland Blend this morning, my view shifted suddenly from the serene stillness to a lively chase. Already immersed in the beauty of a gentle rain which has been absent from our west Kentucky summer, I was nearly startled by the activity. Not the usual one resident rabbit, but two bunnies emerged from my garden, jumping at each other’s face, then racing around the first crepe myrtle, and continued their dance and chase around the next five crepe myrtles! One would chase the other around the tree, then meeting to begin hopping and prancing, sometimes fist bumping their front paws and then repeat the activity with the next tree. As the leader circled the sixth tree, it disappeared into the soybeans, leaving a bewildered bunny to hop slowly, hesitatingly, back toward the garden shed. I felt a little sorry for the kid, and wondered if they’d ever see each other again.

Life can be a total rabbit chase! I wonder if my maniacal gardening appears to others like the chase I had just watched, around and around and on to the next job in line. We hear of chasing a rabbit down a hole, which again, I’m prone to do, especially if I’m trying to relay some incident. Some notion enters my brain as another is being explained and off I go. And then there’s that great big expanse of a soybean field lying across the lives of our children, friends, work families and so forth. Their paths divert in some direction other than ours and it’s a toss up as to whether they’ll cross again, or lead off in still further mazes. It’s just life.

I hope we jump and fist bump and dance in circles and run our races together for as long as we’re given. Life can be terrific that way; and sad that way.

In my gratitude for the long awaited and much needed rain, I’m also sorry for those who are dealing with too much of it and the rolling rivers. Thankful for the break in temperatures these last couple days, we brace for the coming week of horrid heat. I’m glad I got to see the antics of the rabbits this morning and was reminded to be thankful for our people as well as reminded to stop and play now and then. The chase can be tiring, so remember to rest mentally and emotionally as well as (and probably more importantly than) the physical rests.

“Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭46:10‬ ‭NKJV‬‬