I'd almost finished a blog post, last week, when I got word that a precious friend of our family had just died. I'd known him as long as I can remember from the church, where I grew up. He and his wife gave me my first "real job" after college. Both of my brothers worked for him in their younger years. He was also one of my Daddy's very best buddies and the thought of them being together again has given me a lot of comfort, these last few days. His life intersected with the life of my family at many points and we're all the better for it. Just as it will for all of us, age had, in recent years, taken many things from him and so the news didn't come as a surprise. But, I thought it would be more respectful not to post, last week, because, sometimes, the most appropriate thing we can be is quiet.

It seems like I've written a good deal, in recent months, about people who've passed away. Whether in a card, on social media, or here, I've used my words to express the love I have for a person, who's no longer here to hear them. The words mostly help me process the loss for myself and express to the family the joys and blessings I received from having their loved one in my life.  

The older I get and the more loss I experience, though, the more urgency I have in wanting to tell others what it is about them that draws me to love and admire them, while they're still here to listen. In this incredibly negative world where we live, everyone is starving for a morsel of encouragement, motivation, and affirmation. Something to offset the blows this cold place can deal us. An anti-venom for the vile negativity that strikes so often. A shot in the arm when the meanness of the world sickens our spirits. A few words just to fill our dry tanks, so we can all make it to where we're going. 

This weekend, someone told me something that breathed so much life into me that I can't even explain it. It wasn't anything elaborate or earth-shaking or even anything I'd never heard before. It was just a well-timed word that I was needing to hear at that moment. Unknowingly, the person changed my whole outlook and my whole day. My steps became quicker and my eyes brighter. My mind was reset and my soul was inspired. It was a timely reminder of what a difference encouraging words can make and how we need them from each other now- not after we're gone.   

Before Carson left for college, we got in his room to pack some things and to clean out, too. He'd outgrown a lot of clothes and some school papers from his freshman year were determined to be obsolete. There were some socks without mates and t-shirts with holes. Then, I found a stack of index cards in his drawer that were held together with a rubber band. I didn't pay any attention to what they were- I just asked if they were something that could go in our trash pile. He immediately gave me a definitive, "No!" He said the cards were from a youth trip, where they each wrote words of encouragement and commendation to everyone in the group and he wanted to keep them.

He gave me permission to look at them, so I unwrapped the rubber band and sat down on his bed to read. Note after note after note, his church friends gave him affirmation and listed the qualities that made him loveable to them. They talked about the good things that made him who he is and the endearing attributes they admired in him. They expressed love and friendship to my son. And that son, who isn't an overly sentimental guy, wanted to make sure I didn't do away with those old, tattered, dog-eared index cards. They meant a great deal to him. They represented all that his peers found to be good in him. He'd kept the cards for a couple of years in his nightstand next to his bed. I don't know for sure, but my guess is that when he was feeling low or heavy-hearted or just a bit unsure of himself, he'd take them out and let the uplifting words pour over him like a warm, soothing bath. That is the power of encouragement.

We all heard the sad news about Kobe Bryant and his young daughter on Sunday. None of us know when those final words will be written and said about us or the people we love. The words come sooner for some than for others. One thing's for sure though- they won't hear them then.

So, say it now.

Write it now.

Show it now.

Share Jesus now.

 

 

Today, at lunch, I had someone ask about the blog and I told her I was having trouble letting go of the holiday schedule. You know that week or so after Christmas when so very little is expected of a person? During that time period, it's not necessary to know what day of the week it is and it's even expected that you'll need to pause to remember the year. Days may pass without leaving the house or speaking to anyone who's not listed as your next of kin. Putting on real pants, which are void of Lycra or those with any sort of fastening device is something that's not even considered during this interval. Productivity is optional and no one thinks anything of it if they don't hear a peep from you. I so enjoy times in which little is expected, because I'm particularly good at meeting expectations when they're found in such low lying areas. That's why I'm having sort of a time of mourning for that wonderfully unique time of year.

But, we can't live in that place forever, so, last week, I began to slowly put my life back together. I tried to shower before supper time and started practicing wearing a bra again for my big reentry into society. I planned a couple of outings with friends to knock the cobwebs off of my social skills. I put on pants that buttoned and tried to reintroduce my eyes to the sunlight. I struggled to remember how to cook without cream cheese, sour cream, or heavy cream and got back on the treadmill with some irregular regularity.
Now, this week, dress rehearsal is over and it's time to get back to real life. So, here I am, but everyone knows if you overwork muscles you haven't used in a while, you might pull something if you're not careful, so we'll start slow.

I always look at the beginning of a new year like the first day of school. I always loved the first day of school. The big decisions had been made about book bags, lunch boxes, and three ring binder color- or Trapper Keeper if your mom was a big spender. The paste jar was fresh and full and the applicator stick was new and not all bent. The markers were loaded and full of colorful potential. The pencil erasers were unmarred and the wood bore no teeth marks yet. The crayons had a clean, sharp point and the wrappers were neatly hugging each one. Everyone started out with things looking up for a perfect year. So many plans and intentions to do our best and ace it.

But, it usually didn't take long for that dream to go flying out the bus window just like with new year's resolutions. Already in this young 2020, I guess you could say I've had to rip a couple of pages out of my new spiral notebook and start over, where I've messed up already. And it left behind those messy paper strands inside the spiral that have to be fished out with a pencil. Yeah, if this new year was a freshly-issued blank, manila book cover, you could say I'm unhappy that the bubble letters of my name aren't as perfect as I'd imagined and my new red crayon already snapped when I went to color them in. Yeah, it didn't take me long to mess up a fresh start.

But, the good thing about fresh starts is that we can have one any time we want one. They're not chained to a calendar and don't require a waiting period or new materials. So, I'll just take what I've got and start fresh tomorrow, January 13.

Well, that wasn't too bad, so we'll try this again in a few days.

Y'all have a productive week.

But, careful not to pull anything.