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Trisha's Coffee Break

~ Moments and the people who live them.

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Tag Archives: memories

Taking Down The Tree – In Retrospect

22 Saturday Jan 2022

Posted by trishascoffeebreak in Life, Reflections

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

covid effects, memories, seasons, tradition

January 22, 2022:

First, a very happy birthday today to my 12 year old niece Isabella Claire, who has been a ray of sunshine in my life! The sun as well, is a beautiful gift from God today and I’m looking to it to continue healing. I am tired of feeling and looking like a slug; sick of taking care of only our household and not being able to reach out to others. Most thankful today for warm homes, drive-thru windows, and good medicine, I hope the Covid fog is about to lift.

The day I wrote the following was a good day, with a cherished visit from my brother’s daughter Sara and her toddlers as well as my sister and her young grandsons. The kids laughed and ran about so cute, having a ball, and the three of us, aunts and niece, had a good and much needed visit. The following day brought a new sadness to our family and one through which I am still processing via pen and paper. The events of the week hindered my tree-taking-down until the following Saturday afternoon; but the rest of my holiday decorations remain gathering dust, awaiting a time of wiping down and wrapping up. Snowmen stand smiling as if nothing changed; a small group of old world Santas seem oblivious to the calendar and uneaten candies have lost their taste for me. No longer fresh greenery shatters each time I pass it. In retrospect, I may reconsider the ‘bad luck’ in leaving a tree standing through the new year; not really sure.

Events of the past few weeks have left my mind and body craving newness but Covid is still pulling the reins on my strength, and sadness of my brother’s passing shadows my writing. In weak effort to pick back up and rejoin life, I am publishing this January 4 writing as I planned to do on that sweet morning.

January 4, 2022: Taking Down The Tree: Times of Tradition

We never used to leave the Christmas tree up into the new year. Mama said it was bad luck to have it up on New Years Day, but I doubt she believed it because she wasn’t normally a superstitious person. I realize now she simply needed it out of the way before getting back into her usual busy work week. I carry most of her traditions leading up to Christmas Day, which leaves me too tired to take it all down the week after, when I finally get to relax and enjoy it. (How DID she do it?) This year I’m really dragging it out because I am expecting company today who didn’t get to be with us on the 25th. I want her littles to get their gifts from under the tree. As I look upon the ornaments, dreading the process of taking it down, there’s one front and center taking me down memory lane so far I lost track of time.

Walking down the aisle of Kroger December 2009, I saw a rustic red wooden star with a fat little snowman painted in the center. Two points of the star were longer than the others, and they reached right into my heart. I stood holding it, sobbing, there in the middle of the grocery, thinking, “this – this very ornament is exactly what Mama would have given me this year” – I just knew it. Never before had I bought an ornament in the grocery, nor had I seen one I thought would have been given to me. But this one. This one was going home with me and now, Christmas 2021, it still adorns my tree and I can smile instead of cry.

I remember crying as I pushed my cart through Kroger a couple, maybe four or five times, I don’t know, I lost count actually that summer and autumn following her passing. I stand wondering this year, why. What about the grocery did that to me? Standing here today looking at my star, I just figured it out. For my entire childhood, from before I could remember, Mama and I did the grocery shopping together on Saturdays. That stopped of course after I married, but even then, if I dropped by on Saturday and she was gone, I knew I could find her at Owen’s Food Market, or the beauty shop.

Mama enjoyed recalling the times when I was a toddler, we would go ‘bumming’ on Saturday. We’d go to a dime store soda fountain in Cleveland, Ohio where she would lift me to a stool and we would share an ice cream soda. Afterwards, we’d get her shopping done. Her only day off for years was Saturday afternoon so the tradition continued, as two more children came along and we all four traipsed the aisles of Johnson’s Grocery in Murray, KY Saturday after Saturday. She bought ice cream and cokes for us to have a Saturday night treat, and I also recall getting to pick out a Little Golden Book for us on many of those trips.

Mama depended on credit in those days, so she remained loyal to one grocer at a time. When Mr. Johnson closed, she continued the tradition at Mr. Owen’s. They knew she would pay as soon as she could – and that’s as good a tradition as anyone needs – a good name.( “A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches, Loving favor rather than silver and gold.” Proverbs 22:1 NKJV. ) Holding my star, I know she was the star of our Saturdays, our Christmases, and many of our traditions. I’m glad I broke the one about taking down the tree on new year’s eve. Otherwise I wouldn’t have had the pondering time today, leading me on the grocery cart ride as I figured out twelve years later why I felt such loss in the aisle, and why I latched onto my Christmas star. May you find your own beautiful stars living in the traditions and memories of love. Trisha

Colt and Jameson 1-4-22

Isabella Claire, ruthless opponent! 1-1-22

If I Were A Christmas Tree…

24 Friday Dec 2021

Posted by trishascoffeebreak in Reflections

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Faith, gratitude, inspiration, light, memories, Merry Christmas, ornaments

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.” James 1:17 (NKJV)

It is Christmas Eve morning, predawn, as I sip coffee in the glow of our Christmas tree. I wonder, will I get it all done in time to make more happy memories for my loved ones. Menus are ready for ingredients I’ve stowed away for weeks and I’m getting the usual anticipation jitters that I’ve forgotten something. There’s baking, arranging and cleaning to be done, but for now the house is quiet with sleep except for the snoring of my little lap dog. A star-lit sky is about to welcome dawn, and as I gaze upon our tree ornaments, I recognize the beauty of reflection.

A decorated tree is pretty by daylight, but the magic happens when the little white lights are glowing, and there in the dark, each ornament twinkles with life. They reflect memories of love and fun. In the stillness, my tree reflects the joys I received from each person who’s given these keepsakes. A mama bear reads to her baby bear by the tree lamp’s glow as she has since 1999. Thirteen little Hallmark ornaments are as happy as the day I received each one a year at a time, and I remember the precious little girl, and her mom who brought them to my door each year. My little clothespin ponies have shiny faces reflecting the love with which they were sent from West Virginia. Many snowmen from friends and family are dazzling as they dance in the lights and I reflect on the occasions and names of each one given. Flying cardinals and sitting cardinals reflect my mother’s love as well as that of those who’ve added to the collection, and the love they learned from her. Glass orbs with meaningful words twinkle and never grow old.

If I were a Christmas tree, would I reflect the true light, the Giver of all good and perfect gifts? Would God’s love, as He sent His Word to become the flesh and blood baby Jesus, glow in my life? Would I shine with the love Christ demonstrated for us as He gave the ultimate gift? If I were a Christmas tree, would I make others happy?

I’m sure the history of the Christmas tree is interesting, but honestly we don’t care. What it is to me, as it was to my parents, for as long as I can remember, is a place to store gifts we give each other. Most importantly, it is where the adornments of our Christmases are displayed; a first, someone’s last, treasured gifts, fond vacation memories, favorite things…all reflecting happy times and warming our hearts.

One of the first things I thought of in the wake of December’s rare tornado, was so many would have had their own ornaments out, vulnerable to destruction, and my heart ached for them. Life IS vulnerable; treasure it. My prayer for those folks is they are able to hold the happy memories in their hearts and keep making new ones.

Merry Christmas! In the midst of all life’s common and uncommon difficulties, may you make many warm memories – ones that reflect the joys in your life and entice others to seek the joy of the true Light.

I

Coffee Breaks

20 Saturday Feb 2021

Posted by trishascoffeebreak in Reflections, Through my window

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

coffee breaks, memories, Nursing, using time

Trishascoffeebreak began at a time when coffee breaks were at a premium. Over the years the blog has covered many subjects, but usually from a current vantage point in life, mostly in bits of nature where the author felt safe walking through blessings and scattering encouragement along the way. It seems a more fitting title for my blog now would be “Coffee With a View”, since the breaks are more leisurely taken, and I get to actually finish the coffee before it’s cold, perhaps staring out my window the whole time at whatever the seasons bring to view. Today my view took a backward look at the time when coffee breaks were few and cherished; the arena of life that has stayed off my keyboard because I always knew there would be readers with more experience, more knowledge, who were faster on their feet than I and left me feeling like I had no right to write.

Coffee breaks in my former life, were a time to catch your breath or catch up on the endless charting and restocking. Wash cloths, towels and emesis bags seemed to fly out the window if you took time for so much as a half cup of hot coffee. As sure as you decide to sit and enjoy a ten minute break, you’d end up in a delivery where Dr. Austin called for a 14-French suction catheter that wasn’t there and you’d be racing out to find one, wondering how you missed that when you checked to see if the room was ready. The 2-0 chromic suture box was full until a patient tore, or Dr. Cook cut an episiotomy when, sure enough, the box is empty. Coffee breaks were when you chose between restocking or refueling. By the time you empty the overfull bladder and grab a cookie from the box left two days ago by a grateful patient, to quiet the growling stomach during your next patient interview and assessment, there’s no time to stand in a cafeteria line for a fresh cup of coffee. I’m pretty sure God gave us “Preparation Time” that we mistakenly named “Coffee Break”.

On the days when you want to push your chair to the back wall and just breathe for a moment, you hear a co-worker coaching how to effectively push, then suddenly yell “don’t push – just breathe!” and you immediately know you must call their attending physician in for a precipitous delivery and breathlessly you arrive to help her escort a new life into the world. A world where you hope someone used their break too, to restock that room, and you’ll find warmed blankets and suction bulbs ready.

Some days a coffee break finds you sitting next to a co-worker who needs to spill tears for her latest breakup when you really just needed a moment to pray for your son’s failing marriage. But with cup in hand, you listen and sympathize, and make a mental note to drag an apology in with your weary feet tonight for some hasty word said when you left home this morning. You use the final moment of a much-needed break to remind the co-worker and yourself how we have to leave such things at home and give that space in our hearts to hold our patients’ woes, just for today.

Lastly, and less often, there are the days when you actually do have time to grab a cup of coffee and enjoy it, only to return to find a gurney rolling in with a patient who started bleeding and you find she only had a couple prenatal visits and those records are in the stack of prenatal records someone just left on the nurses’ station desk while you were gone. The next three hours are spent stabilizing the patient, speeding through paperwork and stuffing your guilty feeling into your scrubs for ever taking a break in the first place

I wouldn’t take a home in Georgia for my times and trials of nursing, but I am so grateful now for a break – to rest, relax and finish my coffee. Though those times certainly gave me gray hair and wrinkles and heart palpitations, they also gave me a world of appreciation and understanding I’d never have gained otherwise. As the reflection off those sharp edges begins to soften with the tarnishing of time, I know there are memories too big and mysterious for words. However, I have begun to try. As I sip my second cup of coffee from my Saturday mug, I allow those memories to begin falling one by one onto my keyboard in hopes of sharing my view. Prepare, pray and breathe, friends.

A Present of Presence

05 Saturday Dec 2020

Posted by trishascoffeebreak in Life, Reflections

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Tags

Alzheimer's, Christmas, Friendship, memories

I brought my coffee to the sunroom to watch the sun change from a narrow apricot band over the tree tops, become the growing light, and make the sky match the frost covered ground. Sitting by my little “memory” Christmas tree here, I take off one ornament – a clothespin pony, painted red wth white polka dots and a white yarn mane and tail. I remember opening the box of clothespin ornaments back in the 80’s, all painted and decorated in detail; angels, soldiers, a lion, ponies; all still with me today because they were mailed to us from West Virginia. Big Sissy Helen always thought of us.

Reaching for the blessing jar sent only a couple weeks ago from Linda in New Jersey, I pull out today’s surprise message. This one simply said, “We never lose the people we love. They live wth us in our hearts for the rest of our lives.” And I gingerly touch the little red clothespin pony to my face, stirring the present of Helen’s presence in my heart.

A busy cardinal outside my window now reminds me of Helen’s early up-and-at ’em-life. I remember also the first time ever when she didn’t know who I was when I called her. It was Mother’s Day this year. I wrote about it; about the heartbreak of Alzheimer’s and the things it robs from us. I need to finish that for Helen’s girls and her husband’s sake. They need to know their mom and wife still lives on in the hearts of others, even though she has only fragments of herself living still in the shell of her body.

Yes, Linda, they do live on in our hearts. Thank you for the reminder coming from the little jar of love; that we have not truly lost those who are not physically in our midst. They are so much more than a body and a face.

I pray God will grant me the ability and time to be like those little slips of paper coming daily from the blessing jar; reminding someone, somewhere that real life – the real life that goes on living in our hearts – is not vanity at all. God gave us each other for a reason. May we each paint the dark skies with light; open gifts of pleasure for others, and speak words of blessing into their lives while we can. We will live in their hearts for the rest of their lives.

FROM THE PORCH: Much Has Changed, Much Has Not

29 Saturday Aug 2020

Posted by trishascoffeebreak in Family, Life

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

aspirations, Changes, Faith, memories, My hero

IMG_0457

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 trishascoffeebreak in Encouragement, Life, MONDAY MUSINGS

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

hometown, kindness, memories, self-control

person pouring milk in highball glass

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?!

Margrette Ann

14 Sunday Jun 2020

Posted by trishascoffeebreak in Friendship, Reflections

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Changes, Faith, friends, inspiration, memories, Neighbors, sing your song

Margrette had a beautiful soprano voice as I recall. Occasionally I would be seated in worship services near enough to hear her singing in the spirit. She also used her voice more than a few times to speak her belief that something ought or ought not to be; although, never did I hear her belittle anyone nor speak in any fashion that would have been unbecoming of a lady. Margrette Enoch wore her Christianity in the form of love for her family; cooking for neighbors and visitors (her baked beans with ground beef and brown sugar were my husband’s favorite!); teaching bible stories to youngsters; working side by side with her husband to provide for themselves as well as foster children, mission work and the various functions necessary for a local congregation to do the work commissioned by Christ.

I met Margrette in 1984 when we moved into their community and continued our farming operation there. I feel sure she was the first woman to love on my husband in a way that showed him neighbors are good. Neighbors are kind. Neighbors look out for you. Just being in close proximity does not make a neighbor. “Love thy neighbor” (Matthew 22:39); and who is my neighbor? Anyone who poses an opportunity to provide some kind deed (Luke 10:25-37). We were blessed with friendship and food from her home. We were stewards of their farm land for about 35 years and never heard a complaint nor a grumble. We shared recipes, garden produce (my favorite being her blueberries) and love for a peaceful country life. She made her husband’s old family home into their home for their three boys, in-laws, grandchildren and great grandchildren. Easing  down the long gravel lane from our road to their house always ended with “Hey there! Come in!”

My husband and I both sobbed yesterday morning, June 13, 2020 when we received the news of Margrette’s passing. Tears for our loss; as well as tears for time we’ve lost on things that just won’t matter in the long run. Although Margrette was 80 years of age, she was so steadfast in her life that even her use of a walker hadn’t prepared us for the extent of her failing health. Margrette did not need fancy clothes, cars nor an exquisite house to love and be loved. She did what she could for others and built a quiet legacy of service.

I spent the day outside processing the news as well as all else that’s going on in our world lately. No matter what I did near the nests of our resident wrens, they kept singing and singing; beautifully doing what God created them to do. These small brown birds hide very well in our Washington Hawthorn tree, but I knew they were there by their song. Like Margrette,  doing what she was created to do, usually unseen, and singing her song of friendship for us and her Lord.  I  will miss you Margrette Ann Enoch.

selective focus photo of house wren perched on white birdhouse

Photo by Tom Mann on Pexels.com

Dear Mama

10 Sunday May 2020

Posted by trishascoffeebreak in Reflections

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

gratitude, inspiration, memories, Mother's Day, Parenting, without moms

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Another Mother’s Day has arrived; the sun envelopes the morning, whose stillness is only broken by the song of birds. “This is the day that the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it!” (Psalm 118:24)  Of all the blessings God has given me, you, dear Mama, are at the top of my favorites list, just behind Jesus and that is exactly as you would have it, for He made all this possible. No, you couldn’t walk on water, but there was a time in my life when I just about thought you could! Thank you for instilling in me a faith in God, by keeping it alive at a level young eyes could see, at a depth mature eyes can reach.  “Her children rise up and call her blessed…” (Proverbs 31:28a) And through her, they learn to see Him.

I had a surprise visit from my sister last evening, ending the day with good memories, and looking forward to today without feeling “socially distanced” at all. Before turning out the light, I wanted to tell Mama about our visit.

Dear Mama, Thank you for bringing home a little sister to me back in 1958. For the first 15 years I only saw our differences and it must have been hard for you to wait. Knowing we were cut from the same pattern, but of different pieces of cloth; you knew we’d figure it out and find the sister in each of our hearts. We still sit and talk about you like you  never went away, and come to think about it, you’re more present everyday. You’re woven through the tapestry of our lives, I know it’s true, for the things you cared so much about, I find living with us too. Your expressions and excitement live on in your second child; and your passion for teaching, your quick wit and smile. What she sees of you in me, I really couldn’t say, but I see you in the mirror every single day! Your love for birds and flowers, gardens and sweets – we share those too. A little wren sings every morning – I think she sings of you. Our hearts first beat beneath your own; three hearts you birthed and took us home. Protected, encouraged, pampered us all, and covered life’s booboos with laughter. Thank you for putting so much of yourself into us, that we would find some part of you in each other, ever after. Love, Trisha

To those boys and girls who did not find your life so encased in a mother’s love and guidance as I did, I pray you will find in your memory the hands and face of someone who did work that magic of training up a child, of holding your hand and being a mom-figure for you. May I assure you also, that you had another. Though you may not have known, my mother tried to be the best friend, teacher and guide to you, to all children, young and old, as she could be. So many faces and names come before me now who were in Mama’s heart and prayers.

Happy Mother’s Day to all women who have carried the thought of another within their heart.

 

Easter Thoughts

12 Sunday Apr 2020

Posted by trishascoffeebreak in Faith, inspiration, Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

comfort, Easter, memories, promises, traditions

My thoughts have whirled about in my mind this weekend like little Maple tree wings caught in the wind. Like everyone, I’m adjusting to new firsts. The year has had a strange beginning, from climate to Covid; demanding a new norm.

MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA Dreary describes the weather today, Easter Sunday, with another cold Kentucky rain. Memories flit through my mind of sunny breezy days with young children running through grassy tufts, peering into shrubs and up the downspouts. Baskets of brightly colored eggs swing on their arms;  plastic eggs with coins or jelly beans rattling inside, some hard boiled eggs dyed and decorated the day before and some cellophane-wrapped marshmallows. I never have understood the connection between egg-laying rabbits and the resurrection of Christ. Nor do I get the connection between baby chicks that were dyed pastel colors and curly paper grass in a basket. Still, I did all of it. From brand new patent leather shoes to a pair of white gloves, my memories run strong in the wake of Easters gone by. MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

This year is a new memory for everyone no matter our ages, for never before have we been socially separated from one another on Easter Sunday, or any other day for that matter, unless someone in the family had the measles or chicken pox or such. For several weeks now we have had a new place of worship, at home. Here is ours.20200329_093346

We are thankful for online live worship services, just one of many things I have taken for granted up until now.

A whole new appreciation for the smart phone emerged today as I video chatted with each of our children, showing them the meal we wish they were here to share.

Receiving pictures of two great nephews on the day they hunted Easter eggs; two others as they played with their baby chickens; and video chatting great nieces with new hair color were the highlights of our day before Easter. At first I felt lonesome to see them, but knew too, that we have no idea what lonesome is as long as we can be there electronically. You know, the more I think about our distancing, the more I see us coming together. Thinking of ways to overcome the voids is a tradition that goes back, way back, to a time I have only heard of, and not seen.

Traditions are cunning little comforts. Whether the practice of worshipping with a church family, or meeting with friends for a game of Rook, until something is taken away, we don’t realize what a comfort it is. It has been good to be reminded of times I have taken for granted. Linda Pugh reminded me this morning of a time I now miss. She said her mom always handmade a new Easter dress for her.  I remember several little Easter frocks I made for my daughter. Just as I am sure Linda remembers the love her mom sewed into those dresses, I remember, and miss, the pleasure it gave me to create a garment for my little girl. Good times.

There was an Easter tradition in my childhood in which Mama bought each of her three children new outfits, right down to the little white knee socks and bow tie for our little brother. I recall the excitement of spreading out all the new items on the bed the night before – dress, cancan (ruffled slip in the South), socks, shoes, an accessory such as gloves, or some years a purse. She certainly did not have the extra money to do it; but working 50 hours a week outside the home, she had not yet developed sewing skills. I believe she did it to show us how important we were to her; to symbolically give us a new spring start. The first few Easters of adulthood when I didn’t have a new Spring outfit, felt like I was doing something wrong; the comfort of tradition was missing. I soon learned that tradition is not essential.

Linda also recalled her dad buying pink and blue baby chicks for her siblings and herself each Easter. Now there’s a tradition serving two purposes: fun for the kids now, and fried chicken later. Or eggs to gather; eggs that in future Easters would be boiled, dipped in food coloring and hidden for another hunt.  I guess bunnies and baby chickens are like the newness of Spring, when all things are being resurrected. The eggs though…I just don’t know.

I hope your new norm is working out, and that Easter wasn’t too hard for you. I do know one who was very sad and alone today; we talked late in the evening and all I could do was assure him this will pass. I encouraged him to take care of himself, get some exercise, eat healthy, hang in there – at home. Jesus said something similar to His disciples as recorded in John 13, paraphrased, He said, Love one another, keep my commandments, take care of each other and I will be back for you. On the resurrection morning He said to Mary (John 20) I am ascending to the Father, so you go tell the others.   Later he let the disciples know they had a job to do until He would come again; to spread the word everywhere that forgiveness of sins could be had through Himself.  “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 28: 19). And when He comes again, we too will have a resurrection day. Happy Spring!

 

 

 

 

December 27, 2019 THE AFTERGLOW

29 Sunday Dec 2019

Posted by trishascoffeebreak in Reflections

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

gratitude, Happy New Year, memories, peace

christmas-eve-2019-1

Morning sun has turned to overcast skies. The dishwasher consumes the remains of another meal made from our Christmas Day dinner. I sit down with my forgotten friend to type out my thoughts which come and go as quickly as the holiday activities. I have a mug of warmed wassail with a serving of cream cheese and habanero pepper jelly on Nut-thins. The pepper jelly was one of many gifts brought in this week by loved ones, and reminds me that though they have gone on their ways, their sweet presence and memories stayed on to warm me through my winter days.

As if six nights and days were not a more than generous sharing of her time, I may have tried to guilt our daughter into staying just one more night…to do one more day of leisure, or shop, or nothing…just to revel in the blessing of family. Though our son had just driven out to help us delete some of the many leftovers, visited and saw his sister off, I still tried bribing him to come back out and spend Friday evening with games and appetizers…oh the tactics of a mother about to be left in the wake of a blessed and busy Christmas week!

The house is quiet, Auggie wants a nap, husband is back to routine business, and the forgotten Christmas pickle hangs on a new limb of the tree. 20191227_093757
An over-looked trash bag stuffed with torn wrapping paper hangs from the back of a rocking chair, and the refrigerator bulges yet with left-overs! I have a closet full of gifts to sort and put away for husband and me; granddog hair to vacuum and bedding to change. There is a lonely glow of the tree lights reflected on the floor now uncovered and bare where there were piled gifts of love and generosity from and to our family and friends. A similar glow is in my heart reflecting the precious smiles of great-nieces and nephews, img_0444

the shrieks of laughter as we played Santa Auction among the adults and the contented sighs after the meal; a meal that followed my brother-in-law’s prayer of gratitude for bountiful blessings and family time, and mostly for the Christ child whom we try to honor as we give, and serve, and love, and pray and encourage one another.

Before I know it, the ground will be warming and planting season will be here from which I will hope to reap fresh produce and see productive crops for our farmers. Likewise, may the good deeds done and the love given this season, reap much happiness and closer ties that last the whole year through.

Come to think of it, Auggie has the right idea – it is about time for a nap! Until next Christmas season, I ask Father God to bless our home, community and country with the peace that I feel down deep in my soul at this time. I will be praying especially for those who did not have all their family with them, and for those who, sadly, feel far from prayer.  Bless the name of God, the giver of all perfect gifts, the Father of Light as we rest in Him to bear our disappointments and pain; knowing that His balm and peace are eternal, and perfect.

Have a truly happy, healthy and peaceful new year!

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”  James 1:17

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Patricia Ward, Trisha's Coffee Break, 2013-2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog's author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Patricia Ward, Trisha's Coffee Break, with appropriate direction to the original content.

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