October 19, 2017
It’s Thursday, noon, and finally I am
sitting down to write a bit. It has been
a busy week, an emotional week, an exhausting week, and a week with some out of
my ordinary “interaction and encounters”.
Overwhelmingly, this week will be remembered as the date when my Aunt
left this world and moved on to her new home.
She wasn’t happy about having to leave her physical home and go into the
nursing home sometime back, and having a strong personality, she made that
clear to anyone who visited her. I
wasn’t expecting the call that I received that told me she had passed. I mistakenly thought those of us who love her
had more time. Just a week ago I thought
I would like to take pen and paper and sit down with her and jot down stories
that she could share. I waited too late
now. We who love her allow ourselves the
grief that tears at our heart, but we also know that she was ready to go. We can take comfort that she has found her
freedom, her rest, and her peace. Next
to my maternal and paternal grandmothers, my aunt was the strongest female
influence in my life. When I walked into
her home, I always immediately felt like I was the most important person in the
world, regardless if I was four years old or forty-four years old. She just had that way of engaging with
someone that made them feel like they were the center of her attention for that
moment. She was interested in what I had
to say even when I was a child and felt like a lot of adults didn’t care what I
thought. She did more to teach me about
my mountain roots than anyone else and yet I didn’t realize at the time that
she was building that foundation. In
conversational tones and in her no-nonsense way she made grief a part of life
for me that didn’t have to be shunned.
Where others were afraid to talk about those who had passed on by
walking through death’s door, she was able to talk about them in such a way
that helped me to understand that remembering them was as natural as breathing. She talked of my mother, her granddaughter
Julie with whom I was close in age, her daddy who died when my daddy (her
brother) was only three, and two of her sisters who had passed one in infancy
and the other long, long before I was even a thought. She helped me to understand the importance
of sharing our memories with future generations so that they have a connection
to their roots. She was not a highly
educated person but she praised learning and worked tirelessly to encourage
first my brother and I and later her own grandchildren to learn their ABC’s,
their numbers, reading, writing, and arithmetic. If one sent her a picture they drew, a card
or letter they wrote, or a sample of school work completed she treasured it
like it was special. To her, it was important.
Years later, one might find something they had written taped to the wall
in her house. She strongly influenced my
demonstrative tendency to associate food with love and love with food. Preparing
and serving food was a service in love. When you walked in her door, you knew
that she would find you something to eat no matter what time of the day it
might be. More times than not, she had
tucked away for me at least one jar of her “famous” sauerkraut. I loved her
kraut. She knew it and always thought
of me when she made it. When I became an
adult, I asked her how she made her kraut and I began to experiment and try to
make it the same way I remembered hers tasting.
She told me once that in order for it to be good I had to cut the
cabbage up by hand. I cheat and use a
food processor to grate my cabbage, and I think of her every time I do it and
know she would smile but disapprove all the same. Maybe a little rough around the edges, my Aunt
never had an easy life. I guess she
would be considered impoverished her entire life by most but I think she was
really rich. She was rich in knowledge
of the “old ways” of the mountain. She
was rich in wisdom that allowed her to take life’s hardships and share her
experiences in a way that made a young child like me less afraid to face
whatever life offered. She was rich in
love and rich in her relationships. She
was strong. She was stubborn. She was independent. She had a huge impact on my life and is a big
part of who I am. I saw her weaknesses
and imperfections but my realization of her humanity only served to cause me to
admire her that much more. I have long
said that the women in my family on my father’s side are what held our family
together for generations. They have been
our strongest link. To me, my Aunt will
always be the tangible, touchable link to the strong women in our family tree. I miss her.
I love her. I feel a little lost
knowing she has gone but her example will always encourage and propel me
forward and I hope I can teach my grandchildren a little bit of what she taught
me. In this manner, she will always be
with us.
Monday was a typical Monday with all four of the grandkids. Rory just isn’t very content away from her
momma and it makes it a long day for me.
The three older ones are always exceptionally rowdy with the excitement
of seeing each other only once a week.
It makes for a lot of chaos, but at the end of the day, I am always glad
that we had the opportunity to be together, even though it is a hard day for
me. The twins were adorable when they
arrived Monday morning. They told their
momma that Analia lived at Tita and Papa’s house and they wanted to move in
too! I told them all to come on. Monday evening, seemingly from out of
nowhere, Analia said to me, “Tita, I love spending time with you.” Those are the moments that make it all
worthwhile.
Tuesday, after milking, I took a
little “me” time and managed to squeeze in a pedicure. That ended up being an interesting
experience. The Asian husband and wife
team was there as usual but there was a young man there I had never seen. It soon became apparent that he was going to
be my technician. I noticed immediately
that he had excellent English and just assumed that he had grown up in the
United States. He was very concerned
that I “relax” and it was apparent that he was trying very hard to make sure
that he was doing everything correctly.
His methods were a little different from what I was use to, but he was
doing fine and I was starting to relax and then he started talking. Those who know me well know that I don’t like
idle chit chat with someone with whom I am unfamiliar but I reached real deep
for an extra dose of “friendly” and responded to his chatter. He was from Viet Nam and much to my surprise,
had only been in the United States for eleven days. Then I asked how he was able to have such
good command of English and he explained that English as a second language was
something he had pursued since he was preschool age and had received an English
coloring book from an uncle. He had some
formal training as a middle-aged child, but got bored with that when other
children in the class wasted most of the class time by acting out. His desire was strong enough that he stayed
long enough to get all the books and then taught himself much of what he has
learned with the English language. He
explained that he wanted to talk in complete sentences, not broken English and
he wanted to master the “accents” so that he did not sound like he had a
foreign accent. He had studied YouTube
videos of both British and American English-speaking people and he had studied
grammar and sentence structure. He has
been accepted as a pre-med student at Mary Baldwin, the University where Alissa
graduated. I have no doubt he will do well. He asked me if I knew why he had chosen to
give pedicures as a means of an income and I told him I did not know. He proceeded to tell me that because he
wanted to work in the medical field, he thought that providing a service to
people was a good way for him to learn to help and practice humility. I have to say, I was impressed by the young
man who seemed genuine and eager. I
realized that I was one of the “first Americans” with whom he was expressing
himself and sharing his dreams and expectations. Knowing how selfish, heartless, and cruel the
world can be, I felt the need to give him my attention as he spoke and not try
to discourage discourse even though I would have rather put myself in a bubble. The discussion progressed to his asking me
what I did for a living which led to a discussion on farming, which naturally
would lend itself to a discussion of food at which time he asked me if I was
familiar with Vietnamese food. I told
him I was not. He then wanted to share
his homemade lunch with me. Now anyone
who knows me knows how picky I am about where I eat, knowing how the food was
prepared, and making sure that any meat I eat has been raised and butchered
according to certain standards. I knew
to decline his offer would be hurtful to the young man. This was not an American offering me half of
their McDonalds Chicken Nuggets and secretly hoping I would say I didn’t want
them. I instinctively knew that this
young man’s offer was an offer of friendship and a way for him to share himself
with me. I swallowed hard, pushed the
fear out of my head, and thanked him for his kindness and accepted his
offer. A million thoughts went through
my head that I am actually ashamed to even repeat, but I will say they are no
different than the thoughts I have about food when I eat anywhere with which I
am unfamiliar. I pushed them all aside
and when the young man brought me a bowl of rice with some type of dried pork
sprinkled on the top, I took a bite hoping I could tolerate not only the taste
but also that the meat would not upset my stomach. Since I do not eat much meat but that which
we have personally raised, my body seems to revolt against me when I do eat
from an alternative source. The first
bite was delicious and I had no trouble with my palate accepting the dish. The only trouble I had was that I knew this
was a “dried” pork of some type and I worried that the jerky type meat might
not have reached high enough temperatures to make it safe for me to eat. My other issue was the texture of the fat which
was there in several pieces that resembled small pieces of bacon fat but had
more of a softer, undercooked texture. I
ate the meal with my new friend and I thanked him repeatedly for his kindness
and generosity. I walked away with
absolutely no after affects to my digestive system and feeling like I had
responded the correct way even though the whole situation was outside my
comfort zone and that the whole experience had somehow been orchestrated by the
Universe for both the young man and I to practice loving those who are
different from us.
Tuesday evening proved to be challenging with Rory being worse at night
than she is during the day about her mom’s absence. She’s such happy child when her mom is
around, always smiling, and content to entertain herself mostly. Not the case when mom is away at school. Doing anything other than holding the baby is
next to impossible and I feel sorry for Analia who has to learn to tolerate the
fussiness while sharing her Tita. I’m
unable to do much with Analia because I have to devote so much of my attention
to the inconsolable Rory. Somehow, I
managed to keep the kids, pick up a little, and make supper for everyone in
part because I had the forethought to get as much ready ahead of time as
possible previous to the kids being handed over to my care. Before Alissa left, Analia and I had chosen
the potatoes for supper and she helped me was them. She loves to stand at the kitchen sink and
wash the potatoes while I peel them for supper.
I never refuse to let her help me because I want her to learn to work
and to help. She also helps me set the
table. I know at four she might drop a
plate or break a dish and the table looks as if it has been set by a
four-year-old when she is finished but this is important stuff and I want to
encourage her participation. I always
wonder at adults who make little kids feel in the way when they are young and
want to help and then expect them to help when they are older and don’t
understand why they have no interest. I
had the potatoes cut up and ready to fry and the hamburger ready for
patties. We warmed up lima beans from a
few days previous. When Alissa got home,
she brought us a treat of fresh donuts for afterwards. She brought me a blueberry “cake” donut which
was moist and absolutely delicious.
Wednesday morning, I milked Faith and Shar. I had separated their heifer calves, this
time under a permanent situation. It is
time to wean the heifers. After I
milked, I cleaned up and went to an elderly friend’s house. She had contacted me about some vintage and
antique items she had to find homes for as she and her husband downsize and get
ready to move. I felt honored that she
had asked me to come and to help her find a place for some of the items that
are so full of memories for her. As we
looked over the items, I asked her questions about some of them and it felt so
good to be able to share in her memories, although it made me sad to know that
she was unable to keep these pieces that held sentimental value to her. Again, I find myself trying to put myself in
the place of someone of age as best as I can and think about what it must be
like for them. I hope that as I interact
with our wonderful senior citizens that I am able to show them the respect that
they deserve. I hope my actions and
words somehow indicate to them that I care and that I am seeking to understand
their position.
Again, I look at life and the
experiences it presents to us and the opportunities for us to use those
experiences for individual growth. How
can I be more loving? How can I be more
understanding? How do I demonstrate to
others that I care? How do we balance
the business of life and our own need for “down” time with the needs of others
so that we can ease each other’s burdens?
How do we offer the proper kinds of supports to people of all ages and
backgrounds while at the same time allowing them their independence and self-expression? Life offers us a chance to grow and learn and
share love and compassion over and over again and practice makes perfect. Well, maybe not perfect, because I for one
don’t believe we will ever achieve perfection, but life offers us lots of
opportunities to be better people.
I’m not on the schedule for Wednesday child care for the girls but Mike
needed Gabino who is the child care provider for part of the day. Mike asked me if I would get back as soon as
possible from my visit and watch the girls so that he and Gab could move a load
of hay. I was under the impression we
were talking a couple hours but I was under the wrong impression. Rory was not happy about the arrangements
that involved both of her parents leaving home and her being stuck with Tita
again. The child began fussing almost
immediately and graduated to crying which eventually progressed to full-fledged
screaming. Pretty much that was the
story for the rest of the night. A
babysitter usually relieves Gab around 5 pm after he has watched the girls for
four hours and she keeps them until Alissa gets home sometime around 8:30
pm. When the babysitter arrived, I
handed Rory over to her to see if she could do any better with her than I
could. I went outside to do the evening
chores and returned about 30 minutes later to find a screaming baby and a
babysitter who was happy to hand her back over to me. Analia was thrilled to thereafter have the
sitter all to herself and I was pleased that she gave Analia such wonderful
attention. It was good for Analia who is
an excellent big sister but has given up her time alone with the adults in her
life since baby sister’s arrival.
Once it became apparent to me that my husband wasn’t coming home at a
reasonable time and that I was going to have the screaming Rory for a total of
approximately 8 hours for the day and realizing I had eaten nothing but a
handful of unhealthy cheese puffs and a glass of milk, I decided to order pizza
for everyone. Pizza delivery does come
to our door in Staunton but I only indulge in that luxury about once every year
or two. I placed my order and didn’t
think any more about it. The owners know
where we live and I have never had a problem before with delivery. After an Indiana number popped up four times
in a row on my phone which I didn’t answer having a habit of ignoring all
questionable calls, I finally answered it the fifth time it rang. It dawned on me that it just might be the
pizza delivery since the pizza still had not arrived. Yes, it was the poor, young pizza boy and he
was lost. Standing in our house on the
hill with a view of the surrounding area with a screaming baby on my hip, I was
able to locate him before he could locate me and guide him to our house. I turned on all the lights in our octagonal
home and told him to look for the house on the hill that was lit up like a
space ship as the lights filter through the skylights. It worked.
He located me and made his way up our drive. The pizza was cold but by that time, I didn’t
care.
Baby girl was happy when momma came through the door, I ate five pieces
of pizza which ended up causing havoc on my stomach because the pepperoni on
the American pizza did not agree with my intestines even though the dried pork
on the Vietnamese dish did me no harm.
We hurriedly packed our things when Mike arrived home and left Staunton
at 9:30 pm and arrived in Laurel Fork after midnight. I’m thankful for my time with those I love in
Staunton at the beginning of the week and now I relieved to have some time to
catch my breath. We are not without a
multitude of things to do here the next few days but we will intentionally try
to regroup and rest a little before we head back to Staunton on Sunday.
October 20, 2017
I awoke early with a feeling of deep loss in my heart and a longing to
be with my family today as they lay my Aunt to rest. I really debated trying to make the trip so
that I could be there for the graveside service, but being overwhelmingly
fatigued and also still having some stomach issues going on yesterday (probably
from too much pepperoni pizza Wednesday night), I decided we would not try to
make such fast trip. This morning’s
thoughts are filled with memories and a strong sense of the ties that bind our
family together no matter how busy we may get or how many miles separate
us. A little piece of my heart will be
buried with my Aunt this afternoon but a little piece of her heart will live on
inside of mine and in this way, love never dies.
I didn’t get a whole lot accomplished yesterday. I took a while to catch up on my journal and
I read a chapter out of the Pema Chodron book I am rereading. I made pancakes with maple syrup and
scrambled eggs for breakfast. We had no
fresh tomatoes for the first time to eat along with our meal. Nothing like the absence of garden tomatoes
to bring home the reality that summer is really over; that, and the fact that
it was only 32 degrees with a heavy frost when we woke up. I had some roast beef left over from Sunday
that I had put I the freezer and I pulled that out for supper. We ate it over egg noodles with the gravy and
had green beans and corn that I had put up earlier in the year. I cleaned what I call “the guest cabin” which
is a primitive apartment over the detached garage. It gets dusty and full of cobwebs when it
sits and I wanted it to be cleaned up a little bit before next weekend, when we
are having a family get together here. I
never know how many people will be spending the night and I wanted to have
everything ready in case someone needs to use the cabin. I really struggled with a stomach ache
yesterday which slowed me down but I think it was probably just a combination
of not eating the “right” foods the night before, stress, fatigue, and emotions.
We had some men show up yesterday to pour a concrete pad on which the
whole house generator will sit. At least
that project seems to be moving forward.
They tentatively plan on coming back next Friday to hook up the
generator, although I don’t know if things will be in place for them to connect
to the propane at that point as we are still waiting on folks from the various
propane companies to give us their bids to run the lines into the house. One of the men pouring concrete had lost an
adult son very suddenly about nine weeks ago to a sudden and unexpected
illness. It was, of course,
overwhelmingly on his mind and he talked to Mike about it. Mike told him that I had lost a son as well
and when I was making my way back to the cabin to clean, the man stopped me and
told me about his son. I could see he
needed to talk and we did. His grief is
so fresh that he is having difficulty finding his way right now. I hope that in some way, my presence and my
willingness to listen was helpful to him.
I wish there was more that I could do, but I know from personal
experience that he will have to find his own way to learn to deal with his loss
and at this point, it’s more about being present in the moment with the person
who is grieving than any words that one can say. I did tell him that his grief would change
with time and that although he would always miss his son and feel the loss,
that he would also grow stronger and better able to deal with it. We talked about his children and
grandchildren that remain and how that focusing on them will help him keep
going.
When we arrived here after midnight Wednesday night/Thursday morning I
saw that the ladder was still against the side of the house and that the man
had not returned to put the cap on the chimney like he said he was going
to. He had told Mike that he would come
on Tuesday to finish the job and get the ladder. I am hoping he returns as he said he
would. I really thought this man was
going to be the one who would follow through.
He is supposed to return this Saturday to do some work on the barn roof,
so I hope there is no delay with that.
We just can’t get anything done on the barn and I am getting so
discouraged. It’s just been one person
after another making big promises and then not following through. The “snake handler” of previous weeks who
disappeared after Mike gave him an advance, was at the house on Tuesday but
found the gate locked. Guess he just
wanted in to get the few items he left.
He went through an elaborate apology about how he had all these things
come up and that’s why he couldn’t be here to work. He told Mike he would hang around to work off
the money Mike had advanced him but there is nothing to show that he did
anything other than retrieve his things.
And so the barn that I believed would be completed by the end of October
will probably not be finished this fall at all.
Mike threatens to get up on the barn roof and do it himself, but I
refuse to give him my blessing to do that. (I actually, I am pretty adamant in
my demands that he not consider it.) The
roof is steep, he doesn’t have the equipment he needs, and it is not worth the
risk of him falling. There was a time
when I would not have been able to keep him off of it but as he gets closer to
60 than 50 and since he went through the shoulder surgery last year and knows
how hard it is to heal at this age, he is at least listening for now.
October 21, 2017
The time in South West Virginia this week isn’t stacking up exactly the
way I would have liked, but I’m trying to accept it as it comes and let go of
expectations. Expectations truly do rob
us of contentment. We have had to do
more “running” than I personally like to try to get materials together for the
barn. I have a feeling it’s in vain and
that the man isn’t going to show up today.
So here I am with all the eagerness to get to work on the barn and the
excitement of a restoration project that completed will bring us one step closer
to making this place functional for us and our handyman won’t return texts or
calls and has not made any effort to confirm that he will be here to work this
weekend. My initial reaction is to give
in to the despair and disappointment that I am feeling. However, I am going to try to just go with
this and accept the fact that we just have to keep trying. Allowing myself to feel agitated, anxious,
and sad over the situation does nothing to remedy the situation and keeps me
from the joy that life has to offer today.
It feels like the two days we have been here have been days without a
lot of accomplishment. Again, setting
and achieving goals are a way that makes me feel good about myself. Not being able to accomplish much makes me
feel worthless but these feelings serve no purpose other than to allow me to be
critical of myself or to turn that around and try to blame others which in turn
keeps me from really experiencing what life is trying to gift me. Today I am going to work on acknowledging
these negative feelings and then letting them go so that I can be open to the
things that are truly important in life.
That means letting go of what I perceive to be expectations of others as
well as expectations I have for myself.
Alissa texted me yesterday to tell me that Analia has a stomach virus
complete with a fever. It appears that
my little bout with stomach cramps on Thursday was not from something I ate but
more than likely a virus. My round with
it was very minor compared to Analia’s but I am glad that we didn’t try to make
the trip to Georgia and take a chance on exposing others to this strain of
virus. I only felt the extreme fatigue
and effects of not feeling well for about 24 hours, so I am hoping Analia feels
better today.
Yesterday morning I made biscuits using the lard I rendered from our
hogs and the raw milk from our cows. I
had some leftover roast beef and gravy and some leftover vegetable soup in the
refrigerator. I used the vegetables and
beef along with some of the biscuit dough to make a pot pie at the same time I
made my breakfast biscuits. We met a
friend for a quick meal out last night, so I still have the pot pie for a meal
today or tomorrow.
As we ate breakfast yesterday morning we watched two deer in the pines
outside our window. Mike has cleared
some of the brush along the fence line and the leaves have fallen off some of
the bushes and trees that were obstructing our views into the woods. I knew the deer stayed in that area because
when I walk up on the hill, I often scare them and they go bounding deeper into
the forest. We see deer all the time in
Staunton but at a distance and always eating up the profits from our hay, corn
or soy bean crops. I know the deer will
become a “nuisance” here as well as we plant a garden and they try to eat it,
but for now, it’s relaxing to watch them in their natural habitat and so close
to the house. We see the deer in the
meadow across the road every morning as well as a flock of wild turkey. With fewer people in the area than what we
have in the Shenandoah Valley, the wild life is less disturbed. Alissa texted us on Thursday and asked us to
call home ASAP. (We have such poor cell
service here that we often can’t receive calls but we can get texts about 75%
of the time. When we get a text to call,
we search for a spot where we can get a bar or two of service on our phones and
call out. Sometimes we can manage a call
standing in front of one particular window.
Other times, we have to hike up the hill to get service.) Evidently a car had hit a young doe in front
of our Staunton home and the deer had crawled into the field and lay their
suffering and crying. She wanted to know
where we had a gun so that Gabino could put the poor thing out of its
misery. Then a friend who had delivered
a few pumpkins to our house came across the deer and called Mike but he didn’t
have a gun with him either. He called
the sheriff’s department and they said they were unable to send anyone out to
take care of the situation. Then Gabino
called and told us about the deer and wanted to know where he could get a
gun. With every call we could hear the
deer suffering and crying in the most hear wrenching way. Mike needed Gab to go immediately to meet
someone who was to pick up hay and had driven from Charlottesville, so he
called his nephew who was able to go and end the poor deer’s suffering. It sounds like such a simple “story” but it
was quite the stir as one person after another called us while we were three
hours away about the suffering deer that we could hear crying over the
phone.
October 22, 2017
Saturday we finally found an orchard and got some apples to keep in the
cellar. I have plenty of applesauce and
pie filling from previous years, but I wanted some apples to store, eat fresh
and have to cook with. I thought we were
never going to find the orchard. We had
been out driving once and knew the general area where the fruit orchards were,
but the last time we went to find them, we didn’t have any luck. This time I used the GPS but it took us to
the back side of a mountain and while there were fruit trees, there was no
packing shed or market. We kept
searching and found two large orchards on the “main” road but Mike was
determined to find the obscure orchards and eventually we found one that was
definitely operated by the locals who grew and harvested the fruit. There were workers out picking apples as we
could see the ladders moving from tree to tree.
They had a good variety and it was refreshing to see nice apples that
had not been “graded” or waxed. I got
four half bushel boxes of a variety:
Granny Smith, Rome Beauties, Stamen and Pink Lady. As soon as I got in the car, I wiped off a
Rome apple and started eating it. It was
hard and crisp, the way an apple should be.
We also picked up three huge heads of mountain cabbage for a dollar
each. I couldn’t have been happier.
Later in the day Mike and I worked together on the enclosed porch to
try to start winterizing it. The
previous owners had put a washing machine hook up on the porch but since they
had never used it throughout the winter months, they had not done anything to
insure the porch stayed warm enough to keep things from freezing up. The porch has the old, original, 1950’s type
windows with individual, multiple glass panels that crank down to cover the
window space. When I first saw that back
porch when we were house hunting, I fell in love with the original windows but
we do not have storm windows for the inside and the cool air just comes right
through. During winter, it will be
impossible to keep things from freezing up if we don’t do some
winterizing. I remembered when I lived
in Alaska that we would buy the plastic that shrinks tight over the windows
when you use a hair dryer on it and it made a big difference in keeping out the
cold. We bought a kit to cover the
windows and old screen door that have has the same type of glass panels on
it. Of course, one project leads to
another and I decided that all the screens had to come off and all that glass
had to be washed inside and out before we put the plastic on. Then, we started adjusting the door to make
it fit tighter and taking down old hardware that had been used to hang blinds
at one time. I love the natural sunlight
that comes through but I have some heavy-duty denim (seconds given to me by a
cousin who works at the plant where they make denim) and I am going to make
curtains to draw tight over the windows on those really cold winter days to
help block out the cold. We did get the
door adjusted, cleaned, and the plastic in place. We still have the windows to finish, as we
will have to move the extra refrigerator that I have stored on the porch as
well as a storage cabinet to finish the job.
Hopefully we will get that finished along with weather stripping around
the door on the back porch and the front door as well when we return this
week.
Saturday evening a man we had met just a couple of times who bought
some wooden toys off of us and whose mother bought some Corningware came flying
in our driveway. I greeted him warmly
and he was polite but I could tell he was upset about something. It didn’t take long for him to reveal the
source of his frustration. Evidently,
the young man who was supposed to be working on our roof had “borrowed” tools
and a pressure washer from this gentleman and then left them at our house. We, of course, had no clue to whom the tools
and equipment belonged and assumed they belonged to the one who was doing the
work. When the young man abandoned the
job, he also abandoned the tools and equipment and the gentleman to whom they
belonged had every reason to believe that we had taken his things, although we
had no clue as to whom they belonged. I
think we got it all straightened out and I think the man went away knowing that
we had no intention of keeping his things and in fact, had no clue as to whom
they belonged.
Sunday we got up and went over to the little Presbyterian Rock
church. I just love the little handful
of people that attend there. Already,
when we walk through the door we receive lots of hugs and warm smiles.
Sunday afternoon we gathered our things, locked up the house and made
our way back to Staunton. The traffic
was horrific and Interstate 81 was such a contrast to the quiet backroads of
the Blue Ridge Mountains.
As I reflect back over this past week, it seems that life put a variety
of people and situations in my path that caused me to stop and think about my
reactions and how I could respond to each of those encounters. For the introvert and the woman who would
just as soon stay away from most encounters, my eyes were open to the
importance of being open to each of these individuals and seeking out the best
ways to respond whether it was the Asian college student who had just arrived
in America and wanted to share his food with me, the agitated man looking for
his tools and equipment, my fussy granddaughter who could not be consoled, or
the warm hugs from new friends.