Month: June 2022

18Jun

Letting go

This is a story I started writing in 2020. Sometimes I start one and put it on the back burner, or sometimes just let it marinade – or sometimes I just forget about it. This is one of those.

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I love cooking. I love cooking for my family. I love being in control.

There I said it. I love being in control.

Most of my adult life I have done the lion’s share of cooking for the family gatherings (with the exception of the few years my sister & I joined forces.) And it’s not because my grown children haven’t offered to pitch in, because they have! Maybe I felt like their lives were too busy to go to the grocery, collect ingredients, cook while their babies were climbing up their legs wanting attention. Who knows.

It was me that volunteered myself to shop, chop, cook, simmer, sauté, stand for hours, sift, sort, bake, serve. It was me. All of those years I elected to put myself in the driver’s seat. I have heard Dr. Phil say (like him or love him), “So what is your reward in this behavior? What are you getting from this?”

So, I’ve done a little self reflection.

I guess I like being in control. That’s my comfort zone. Time and circumstances have taught me to take charge – at least that way I have a better chance of predicting the outcome. Right/wrong, I don’t know, I’m just trying to figure this out. Control, with a dash of nurturing instincts thrown in?

But I sense I am changing.

As the years have passed, and maybe as I have grown older, cooking has lost its luster with me. And maybe – possibly, even my control issues are getting tired as well.

And it has become evident at the family gatherings. For Mother’s Day we gathered around the table with Chipotle to Go, take out BBQ was served for another occasion, and last Thanksgiving, Cracker Barrel was the guest of honor in our home. Last Father’s Day I even handed over the grilling duties to Brandon.

November 2020: Covid.

This year has kicked our butts. All of us have all been affected. Some, more than others.

As conversation began in my family regarding Thanksgiving dinner, my daughter Robin was the first to say, ” NOW MORE THAN EVER – I NEED A TRADITIONAL THANKSGIVING!” I think that was her way of saying, “Mom, don’t even think about some Fa-La-La Chinese take out on our Thanksgiving table!” And almost in that same breath, my darling daughter said, “And this year you’re not doing it alone! Heather and I will be there to help.”

Was that relief I was feeling, possibly with a touch of anxiety? Yes.

Time to loosen a notch on the control belt? I believe so.

As the day grew closer, the girls and I had come up with a plan. Heather brings this, Robin brings that, I’ll take care of… you get the idea.

No thanks be to covid, only my daughters and their families were coming for Thanksgiving this year.

EARLY AFTERNOON, THANKSGIVING DAY

assorted vegetables and spices on wood surface
Photo by Angele J on Pexels.com

One by one, the troops start arriving. Robin, with totes of groceries, fresh vegetables spilling from the top, Heather through the door with her bounty. Well, this was certainly going to be different from years past!

Preparation got underway. Food stained recipes handwritten on note cards pulled from the junk drawer (I know, I know, they need to be organized). Chopping blocks, knives, measuring cups, measuring spoons lined up on the counter like soldiers ready for battle. A bottle of wine uncorked for later – who am I kidding – Robin & I poured a hefty glass right then and there. Some lively tunes started. Let the cooking commence!

Let me tell you – we had a blast! Sure, I had the occasional control moment – Me: “Hey Rob, I like the celery cut a bit smaller”. Rob: “Don’t worry Mom, I got chu”.

As I witnessed my grown daughters busy in the kitchen, with the conversation running freely, the meal preparation well underway, I realized just how much I have missed by trying to be the one taking charge of all the details. How exhausting, lonely, and completely unnecessary.

And at the end of the day, when all was left but the wishbone ready to be pulled and the turkey pan ready to wash, I said a prayer of thanksgiving for my daughters Heather and Robin.

Funny how when you let something go, you gain so much more.

16Jun

Freedom

At one time this little fairy lived inside my tabletop terrarium that housed a few plants – that somehow I wasn’t able to keep alive- the plants, not the fairy – she is after all, made of resin. Truth be told, several plants (along with a few cactus) have fallen victim to my futile attempts at house plants. This little sweetheart sat on top of a mound of moss, snuggled between a couple of plants, perpetually in a wishing state.

  Admitting defeat, the doomed plants went to their final resting place (the trash can), and the terrarium turned into a seasonal decoration.

Following eviction from the terrarium, my innocent little fairy found a new home on my kitchen windowsill, along with a cactus that refused to succumb to my ill-treatment of plants.

And then one beautiful fall day I decided to open the kitchen window – promptly to knock off my fairy, where it landed in the sink. And that’s when she became a fairy with only one wing.

Poor girl.

I glued her wing back on, only to knock her off of the windowsill again just a couple of weeks later. The glue did not hold up to the fault line and I was back to having a single winged fairy. I sat her back up on the windowsill with the best of intentions to repair her wing, but in my procrastination, I never got around to it.

Six months later, Charlie received a devastating phone call. A young lady that had been in his life for several years had passed away suddenly. Her name is Emily. Twenty-seven years old. She was born with cerebral palsy. Emily spent her entire life confined to a wheelchair.

Charlie was crazy about her. In the six years he and I have been together, Emily came up in conversation often. She wasn’t just a girl with cerebral palsy. She was a young woman with spunk. And she was fun. And she lived her life to the fullest that her body would allow her. Emily went on adventures with Charlie and her family. From helicopter rides, to water slides, Emily loved being on the go! She loved car rides, anything Snoopy, IHOP, and of all things, T-shirts. Emily loved T-shirts – from anywhere and everywhere! She loved T-shirts so much in fact, that Emily’s family asked the attendees of her service to wear their favorite T-shirts in honor of Emily.

Charlie attended Emily’s funeral services that took place in her hometown of Johnson City, TN. According to Charlie, the funeral home was filled beyond capacity. Emily had touched the lives of so many people that the receiving line stretched outside and around the building. And as Charlie stood in line, waiting to pay his respects, he heard stories of Emily and the impact she made on each and every person there. He knew how special Emily had been in his own life, but he had no idea of how many other lives Emily had touched in her short 27 years.

Charlie came home from that visit in Johnson City with a heavy heart, saddened by the loss of his young friend, and I’m sad for him. Emily was blessed to have a strong family that took care of her needs that she couldn’t take care of herself – and they were blessed to have her in return.

I’m glad I never got around to “fixing” the wing on my fairy, because from now on she will remind me of Emily. On earth, perfectly imperfect.

Unlike my little friend made of resin, Emily passed through her imperfect earthly body and was given an eternal life without her earthly limitations.

Imagine the first time to ever walk, the first steps you ever take, you are blessed to walk the streets of gold. Imagine the first time to run, you run into the arms of Jesus. Imagine your imperfect earthly speech, harmonizing beautifully with the choir of angels or maybe even singing a duet with Kenny Rogers. How amazing that must be for Emily.

Gone forever are the wheelchairs, the special needs van with the “handicap” tag in the rear view mirror. Never again the struggle to speak, to breathe, and all the other challenges I know nothing about.

God bless you Emily for the love you gave to everyone who knew you. To know you, was to love you. As you rejoice in heaven, you are missed here.

Fly high Miss Emily, fly high.