Blue Speckled Bowls

I don't really have anything super spiritually insightful to say tonight. But something's been on my mind. I've heard that certain scents are directly tied memory or vice versa. I certainly believe that. Just a few examples of this: I relate the smell of sawdust to my dad. I'm not even sure he knows that. But, as far back as I can remember, my dad has always been handy. He does small projects around the house... or big projects like this one. I can remember him outside with his sawhorses and whatever pneumatic tool he's using, building something, fixing something, or helping build a trebuchet for a middle school history project (story for a different post.) If I close my eyes and I smell sawdust, I think of my dad. The smell of coffee reminds me of my mom. Not just because she drinks lots of it... but because it's something that we share. We both have an almost unhealthy love of coffee. My mom doesn't SMELL like coffee, mind you... but the scent reminds me of her. The smell of bacon or sausage grease will ALWAYS remind me of my dad's Grandma, Big Granny; or my mom's mom, Memaw. The smell of cigarette smoke reminds me of my dad's parents. Not in a bad way. It's almost in a comforting way. My dad's parents smoked for a long long time. It's not a bad memory that is tied to that scent. It reminds me of playing in the game room or watching Fat Albert at Papa and Mary's house. Or eating those terrible pink Hostess snowballs and watching CMT at Granny's house.

I never payed much attention to the fact that certain objects would trigger really strong memories. I mean, it makes perfect sense.... but I had never really thought of it.

Anyway, I was doing dishes tonight and I came across these bowls we have. They're metal and have blue paint with white speckles on them. These bowls... are magic. Ok they're not really; but they came from Memaw and Granddaddy's house. These bowls were used for three things and three things only: Cereal in the morning, Bread Pudding or Stone Soup. Don't even get me started on memories with stone soup. No- really. I'll post about it at some point. It's still hard for me to eat anything but those three things out of these bowls. These bowls remind me of sitting in Granddaddy's lap while he reads me "Green Eggs and Ham." or playing on the swing set or in the pasture. These bowls remind me of that small farm house on lots of land. They remind me of squeezing an impossible amount of people into that house and feeding all of them. Of Sleeping in the back bedroom and leaving the light in the closet on because there was something always weird about it being pitch black. (I've grown up in L.A. I'm used to street lights and building signs).) Of laying my head on the pillow in that back bedroom and falling asleep with that sort of musty indescribable smell...and feeling at home and...safe. These bowls remind me of love.

I think for mom, her object-memory would be the "bread pudding pan." This pan is just a beat up aluminum pan with handles... but it's the ONLY pan in which to make bread pudding. Mom will have to tell you about the memories attached to this pan... so for now, I'll just show you a picture of this pan.

Cleaning, for me, is therapeutic. I LOVE cleaning. I usually clean late at night because it's when my mind is clear and I can almost meditate while cleaning. My friend Kylie meditates while she makes friendship bracelets for people. I find my meditation and God-time while I clean. I think the reason all these memories came flooding back to me tonight is because I'm kind of in the middle of the six year anniversary of the death of three of my grandparents. My senior year of high school, 3 of my grandparents died within about 60 days of each other. Granny, my dad's mom, died on September 6th, 2004 of lung cancer that spread to her brain. Papa, my dad's dad, died on October 9th, 2004 of the same thing. Granddaddy, my mom's dad, died October 30th, 2004, kind of suddenly of a heart attack. This time was undoubtedly one of the tougher moments for our family. Even as I think about, and type it now, my stomach hurts to think about it. But it was also kind of a turning point for us as well. Our family grew closer together in that time and really kind of united.

But I also remember the happy moments in that time. I got to see every member of my family, extended family and then some. I think, my favorite part was Granddaddy's funeral. I know that sounds morbid... but stay with me. My Granddaddy was SUCH a character. He was loud and boisterous... but he told corny jokes and drew ridiculous cartoons and loved his 12 grandbabies with all he had. His funeral was a celebration of his life. People shared funny stories about him and even shared some J.B.isms. (his name was James Barton i.e. JB) It made me love my Granddaddy even more. We laughed. We LAUGHED at his funeral!! When I leave this earth, I want my funeral to be like his. I want people to remember the ridiculous things I did and how I helped people. I don't want my funeral to be sad and dull because that's not how we do things in this family!

Friends, it's very late. But if it weren't, then it wouldn't fit in with the title of my Blog, now would it? I will leave you with a few of my favorite JBisms.

"She's a blue chip baby with navy bean toes!" - He said that about me. Blue chip baby=like blue chip stock. :) navy bean toes=umm I guess my toes looked like navy beans.

Angel- I could never tell if he really thought I was...or if he couldn't remember my name. ;)

"Don't run the heater in the motor home while you sleep or you might wake up dead!!"- umm... I'll let you figure that one out.

"We didn't come here for diabetes!" (pronounced dyeuh-beetus)- they took my grandma to the doctor for a blood clot and the blood tests also revealed she had diabetes. He wasn't happy about that and told them that's not what they went there for!

"You ain't a string tied horse-hobble ain't too fat to wobble, are ya?!" - I STILL have no idea what this means.

goodnight, friends. May you find those objects in your life that make you remember the special people in your life.

I Want Yellow Walls...

The longer I am still,the longer I wait and the more invested I am in my relationship with God, the more He shows me the kind of man He has in mind for me to marry.

I became incredibly aware of this yesterday. Mom and I had gone to Texas for a week to visit my grandmother who is in poor health. The week was full of unexpected frustrations and challenges but all in all, it was a good week.I'll elaborate on the details later in this post. But what I'll tell you now is that the trip back felt like it took a million hours. We were tired and sore and stinky... but when we got home,we found that mom and dad's bedroom had been remodeled. [quick little aside, we've been doing a lot of remodeling on the house... but mom and dad's bedroom was the only bedroom that hadn't been done.]

What does this have to do with yellow walls and husbands?


I'll tell ya. Mom and I left on 8/31 for an incredibly long trip. Apparently, it was that day that Dad and Molly started scheming. They had started scheming to remodel mom and dad's bedroom while mom and I were away. Just 2 days into our trip, mom and I were rear ended in Abilene (a small west Texas town). There was a lot of damage to our car. Luckily, the girl admitted full fault (because it was), and the insurance company took care of everything. But, it was still a long, emotional and stressful day. We still had several hours of driving (in a rent car) and seeing my grandma ahead of us.

We got the rent car, put gas in it, got lunch and got on the road. While Dad and Molly were pulling up carpet, taking up staples, hammering down nails.

We got to Belton, TX (about an hour outside Austin)and went straight to the nursing home to see Memaw (grandma). We saw Memaw then set out for my aunt and uncle's farm; which was about 15 minutes outside of town. While Molly and Dad were scraping up glue and taking down ceiling fans.

On Friday, we were even more tired and sore and emotional. We spent the day with my grandma and talked to the insurance company. While Molly and Dad were scraping ceilings and washing down walls.

On Saturday, we hung out with my grandma, ran some errands, and had lunch with 2 of my mom's siblings and one of my mom's childhood friends. While Molly and Dad were picking out paint colors and putting down hard wood floors. I whined about how tired I was or how I had to deal with the insurance company. While Molly and dad were not only working at their jobs... but painting the walls and moving around furniture.

Speaking of paint colors, mom and I had gone to Home Depot and gotten some samples of paint colors that we liked and painted a few colors on the wall. We hadn't settled on a color but mom really liked this pale yellow color and a greyish brown color. Dad had originally objected to the yellow so mom and I had figured we would go with the brown...eventually. We've been doing renovations on the house for some time now so we weren't planning on doing their room for a while. (or so we thought)

The whole week mom kept telling me "I miss dad." or "I'm just anxious to see ." Babbo(Babbo is the Italian word for "daddy". Molly and I call him Babbo. Now mom does too :) )

I just kept thinking. "man, I want a love like that." A love where you feel lost if you're not with your partner. I know I'll have it. I just gotta wait. Which I'm TOTALLY fine doing. :)

Anywho, we get home and we go upstairs to find the beautiful bedroom. Mom almost cried. Dad and Molly had worked for 8 days to redo this bedroom for mom. A while after we got home, Molly told me that dad had said to her "let's paint the walls that pale yellow color that Nellie likes." Molly said "you don't like that color." he said "it's not that important to me. Nellie likes it. I want her to have it."

They ultimately went with the brown color but that's not the important part. The important part is that Babbo put Nellie's wants ahead of his own. It may not seem like a big deal, but it is. In Ephesians 5, Paul tells husbands to love their wives as Christ loves the Church. It's a pure love, a holy love, a sacrificial love and a wholly unselfish kind of love.

My dad has that kind of love for my mom. He shows this daily. Not just in his redoing the bedroom or wanting to give her the paint color she wanted. But in calling or texting throughout the day, in his constant support of her, or going to work and working so hard for our family....everyday.

Dad is going to be totally embarrassed by this blog but that's ok.

Folks, I know he's out there. I'm not going to LOOK for a man that I think God wants for me. I'm going to hold out for my yellow wall kind of love. :)

This may not have been a super insightful kind of post... but it's been on my heart and I wanted to share about this very special kind of love I've seen. :)