Friday Tidings

On my weekly walk to see my granddaughter, I go past an interior design store that has this huge picture in its front window. I like to stop and pick one of the phrases, then think how I can live it out.  Some phrases are easier than others. Such as, “Kindness is a gift. Pass it on.” This week, I looked at the picture and noticed this one: Ask yourself this question: Will this matter a year from now? It immediately reminded me of Bonnie, our faithful insurance agent from long ago. It’s a long story, but we’d sold our home—and had moved everything out. We wanted to do a final cleaning of our outdoor pool—an automated device made that easy. We spent the night at a hotel in town. In the morning, we came back to turn off the pool cleaner, and to our horror, the machine had failed, causing extensive damage to the pool structure.  This led to thousands of dollars in insurance claims—and a huge disruption in our home sale.  Suddenly, instead of a friendly, ea...

When I married her son, Bernadean might have felt there were things about my life to concern her. She may have wondered if I was the best girl for him. Her perception was warranted, but we hadn’t had much time to get to know each other yet. And that wouldn’t change because the mileage from their hometown to ours meant we didn’t see each other often.   Until we moved into their family room.   For about three months, we had nowhere to stay while we busily secured loans to buy a trailer home and land for our farm.   I also began working in Bernadean’s Bible bookstore and saw firsthand her business savvy and hard work. I was determined to make a good impression and work hard too.    In life, we have so much to learn. Working alongside Bernadean, I realized how much I didn’t know. It was a humble place to be. But Bernadean always gave me time to learn.   Maybe because she’d worked so hard for so long, she didn’t want to hurt others who were try...

I found the four-leaf clover in an unusual place. A small clover had been sealed between two small plastic discs and then encircled with a gold-colored band. The thinnest gold chain served as a necklace. As I held it, I wondered how old it was. I’d found the clover necklace in my great-grandfather’s Bible.    My aunt had given me the Bible when I had visited her. Grampy, as I called my great-grandfather, had been a man of quiet faith. The Bible was worn—not just with age, but with use.    As a child, Grampy had been a bonus grandpa to me. He could hardly hear, and his vision wasn’t much better, but we both loved spending summertime at the family lake cabin.    At home, he’d sit and listen as I played the piano. Even with my marginal skills, he was my most appreciative audience.   He was part of every family gathering, and his loud laughter made everyone else laugh. Grampy passed on when I was thirteen—long before I knew how valuable his stories were. ...

It was one of those sunny, but too cold to be outside days, when I decided to use my great-grandmother’s sewing machine for the first time.   I’d promised my granddaughter I’d make a blanket for her beloved stuffy, Dog-Dog, so with material in hand, I opened the antique sewing cabinet.    When my great-grandfather purchased this for his wife Alice, she’d only had an old treadle machine. This gift came after her years of operating a boarding house and sewing fancy dresses for the wealthy. Not an easy livelihood in the early 1900’s—all while being a single mother.   I ran my hands over the metal wheel and imagined her delight at how automated it was. Rather than using her feet to propel the machine, she could use her knee against a convenient lever beneath the cabinet—using electricity!   I picked up her scissors—sharpened to perfection. Then I ran my fingers over dozens of wooden spools of old thread—varied colors from all those long, gorgeous dresses. Th...

Recently a friend was chatting with me about life passing by without her leaving much of a mark on humanity. We both are at the age where there is more life behind us than in front. She’d invested her time and career in an elementary classroom. She spent hours teaching kids to read, write, and learn basic math. Then there were those hours of parent conferences, teacher’s meetings, grading papers, and lesson plans—year after school year. But some Netflix show had made her feel less than purposeful because she hadn’t “produced” anything. The show had featured people who had developed everything from phone apps to marketable items that were unique and sought after.  These people had made their mark on the world by producing something purposeful. My friend lamented that she “only” had decades in the classroom. It didn’t translate into something tangible like a product to sell. My argument about students being our future didn’t resonate with her. I guess here in America, succes...

Let me begin by confessing it was my idea to pull out the 500-piece puzzle. Even though I help my granddaughter with her much easier puzzles, it has been years since I ventured to do a more challenging one. Perhaps I was hoping my husband, Tom, would say “No”. Instead, he went out to the garage and brought in our folding card table so we could take our time—not expecting to finish it in an evening. We had a warm fire crackling and ironically, the puzzle resembled a winter cabin scene—much like where we live. I began second guessing my decision to do a puzzle as I dutifully flipped all the pieces right side up. Then I slowly sorted them by color. Very slowly. Tom rejoiced when he matched up some of the bottom pieces. I inwardly groaned. This would take way too long for my get-it-done-quickly attitude. Puzzles are meant to be challenging.  But isn’t life challenging enough right now, my inner voice argued, without entertaining yourself with something designed to be hard to...