Jimmy

This is a story from my previous life in small town Appalachia:

We had many "characters" who lived in our town. They kept us "normal" folk annoyed and amused. Jimmy was one of them. Every day he walked around town, closely followed by his Radio Flyer, going from trash can to dumpster... collecting cans. Our town is small, only a handful of stores still open after the great industry pull out in the 70's. Most of the people who live here have chosen an isolated life, have left the city because their assistance check goes a lot further here than in a city, or they were born to families who settled here in 1890. Jimmy comes from one of those long term families, who also happen to have married too many cousins. The lack of intelligence in the Buckle family is notorious. In a town where everyone knows everyone's business, all you have to say is, "He's a Buckle," and eyes roll, indicating, "Oh yes, we know the whole clan isn't worth much."

Back to Jimmy. As Jimmy walked he visited every store, chatting with the unlucky clerks who weren't able to hide quickly enough. Jimmy could talk you to death about nothing in particular. Each stop brought a few more cans into Jimmy's wagon, and by late afternoon, he'd have a load. This happened every day of the week. Jimmy was part of the scenery, like the bank or the hardware store.

One day Jimmy became ill. He may have spent a few days in a hospital, but I can't remember. We all grieved in our own little way, over not seeing Jimmy wandering by. Of course the store clerks rejoiced for their respite, but the talk of the town was all about Jimmy and whether he would be able to come back. His illness evidently necessitated his getting a scooter. He was of course told that he could no longer make his trips into town. He had to stay in his home for his own good. And of course he didn't listen for long. Within a week, Jimmy was riding his scooter down the highway, into town. It was great to see Jimmy out and about again. The scooter changed the silhouette, but at least Jimmy was back. There was one problem. Jimmy sold those cans for extra income, and now he didn't have a way to haul them. A few days after his first scooter trip into town, a milk crate appeared on the back of the scooter, and he was back in business! The only problem was that the crate didn't hold enough cans. Hmmm. How to solve this dilemma?! You guessed it. Within another week, the Radio Flyer was secured to a tow rope behind the scooter, and Jimmy was really back in business. Down the highway, into town he rode, once again making his rounds. It was a day to celebrate! Jimmy was back! All was well in G-town!

We all rolled our eyes, and knew an accident was going to happen, but we knew that Jimmy was being Jimmy and there was no stopping him.

One day I was pulling out of the bank drive-thru and I looked across the street to see Jimmy, driving his scooter, dragging his wagon, pulling out of the furniture store parking lot. This time there was a major change in his load. Jimmy had decided he and his scooter were invincible! He was not loaded with cans (but then he may have been because I couldn't really see the wagon). All I could see was Jimmy, his scooter and a full size mattress and box spring about 2 ft from the ground, inching out the drive! It took about 10 feet for the whole thing to topple! He actually thought he could drive that scooter, toting a mattress and box spring on his wagon, through town, and out the highway to his house! Now that's possibility thinking! It wasn't logical or physically possible, but he was giving it his best! Just as I drove to rescue him, another driver stopped, loaded the dumpster find in her van, and set Jimmy safely on his way home driving his scooter, followed closely by his faithful Radio Flyer! This is life in G-town! Characters to annoy and amuse. People to love just the way they are!

Grief

It sneaks up on you when you least expect it. Like someone with new tennis shoes, whose whereabouts are never heard. When you're tired, it creeps up silently, with no warning, so that when you turn suddenly you run into it and the two of you become one. One minute you feel positive, brave, energetic. The next, you find yourself pulling your socks down to see out. Grief. It sucks your brain out and you forget all the good there is. One day it will go away and stay away until another loss. For now it camps on my doorstep, waiting for every opportunity.

life and death

The anniversary of my mother's death was 6 days ago. I've been thinking a lot about her this week and remembering her death. She had Alzheimer's disease for about 15 years, so she died an inch at a time, eventually unrecognizing and unrecognizable. My father used to say, "This disease is evil." And it was/is. Her greatest fear when she was younger, was losing her memory. And so her biggest fear came true and we know that she would have rather died than have Alzheimers. But Alzheimers is no respector of desires, dignity, or pride.

The last week of her life, my mother had a stroke. The daughters and granddaughters gathered to say, "Goodbye." Each day she seemed to age 10 years and her face distorted. All I could think was, "This is really ugly." I don't mean that on a shallow, "pretty people" level. Each day it seemed the disease took huge portions of her and left more of a stranger in the bed. Evil was stealing her/destroying her. I'd sit and think the evil was increasing and it was ugly. On her last morning as we sat by her side, I saw evil take total control. God's life in her vanished. She was gone. And it hit me that when the evil took over completely, it instantly lost it's power. She moved on to her new life, and it was beautiful. She was finally free. At the moment of my mother's death, I understood the need to die in order for new life to begin. I saw God use evil for God's purposes. She is free.

The funeral home staff tried to get us all to gather around her one last time to say our, "Goodbye." We were done. She was gone. Her broken body lay on the bed, but she was gone. She lost her life in order to gain a new one, and for that I am grateful.

As I think about this, I realize we can learn about living our own lives. We spend most of our lives clinging to the past, clinging to the known, clinging to our image of the future. Maybe if we'd give up all that clinging, we could move on to the new life that God keeps offering. Then again, God's not speaking to me right now, so I could be wrong.

God and Me

Still struggling with my relationship with God. It just seems that when I am most in need of God's presence, love, wisdom, God is not there. God is silent. I hear nothing. Yesterday I hurt my leg. It has been a good week, and I was so full of energy, I had plans to do a fall house cleaning today. Now I can't walk. Needless to say, I'm a bit discouraged and angry. Finally went out to the creek to chat with God. I guess I ranted and raved at God for over an hour. It felt good that at last I am talking to God! Don't know when God's going to talk to me! Will have to work on that some more tomorrow. It seems to be tied to my own sense of self. I've realized that when I need to defend another person, I will. When I need to defend myself, I don't. When I need God's wisdom for another person, or a church dilemna, then I hear God guiding me. When I need God's wisdom for me, I hear nothing. Somehow there's a connection. Somehow I think it's that I don't love myself enough. I don't think that God cares enough for me. But how does that work? I sit for hours listening for God, and don't hear anything. It's not like I'm not listening! So frustrating! God, are you there? Where are you? Who are you?

The affects of violence

The soon to be ex has moved out. Been considering how stressed I was when my almost ex was in the house, compared to how I've felt this week. I was using all my energy just for self preservation. It is amazing to me that even though he was not physically abusive, all my energy was used to protect against the verbal blows. I was panicked every morning when I woke up. I was unable to do much more than survive.

This week has been amazing! I've felt full of energy, focused at work, and ready to put life in order! All because I wasn't under the stress of the verbal birage. The children's rhyme, "Sticks and stones, may break my bones, but names will never hurt me," is really not true. Words have hurt me more than I ever realized until now. What a subtle way to really tear a person down. No one should put up with it. I know that God doesn't want that for me or for anyone else.

So now I can celebrate the first week of a new life!

Slice of Heaven 6

Waking up frightened, and remembering he's not here. I am safe! Wahoo!

Slice of heaven 4

Putting the broom away and knowing it will be in the same spot when I use it again. Not having the vacuum cleaner as a centerpiece in the living room. Having all the cleaning supplies put away when the job is done. Knowing where to find things. Parenting only children. Not sharing a bathroom with another adult.