Crackpots and Crockpots

Finished my last book, "Plan B, More Thoughts on Faith" by Anne Lamott. Equally as good as Traveling Mercies. I dare say she and I are kindred spirits.

Great weekend just passed. I got a hankering for a new lamp, 'new to me that is. As I've told you, I love to treasure hunt so I always choose Goodwill over Walmart or any other retail store first. It's the thrill of the hunt, and for some reason I can justify spending money there whereas I wouldn't spend it at a regular store. Go figure . .

Anyway, one corner of my house is too dark and its bugging me, like bad bugging me. It makes me restless. My hope was to find two lamps, matching, so I could also use one in the hallway as opposed to taking the Victorian lamp from my bedroom and using it. For you to have an appreciation for my house you would just have to see it I guess. It is probably an understatement to say that I love lights and I've got them everywhere, not overkill, just everywhere. Christmas lights, chili pepper lights, lights with flowers and pine cones. I also love candles, oil lamps, western lamps, Victorian lamps and colored light bulbs. I love their warmth.

Long story short, no luck at Goodwill - either one. I only tried two, didn't have time for another stop because some of my kids and grandkids were coming for dinner and I needed to get home. Found one anyway at Walmart, not something I was initially crazy about but I adore it now. So goodbye restless heart fretting over the dark corner. I wish it were that easy to light up dark corners of my heart . . . takes much, much longer I'm afraid, and a strong dose of Jesus.

We had chicken and rice with green beans and my daughter-in-law made a caramel, pecan cheese cake that we devoured with coffee before the games began. We love to play games with our family, matching wits . . . but many times us old folks get our pants beat off. No, not that bad (all the time). . . but we usually do find ourselves defeated by night's end. It is not because we go easy on them either, when we play we have one thing in mind, one common goal: BEAT THE KIDS, destroy them, do not let them win at any cost. They have no mercy on us either, so I do not feel bad in the slightest. We played Phase 10. I skipped my son as much as possible, and giggled with the utmost glee about doing it.

Papa Shaun got out some of his military stuff and gave the kids and grandbabies some cool stuff. They were thoroughly impressed with their gifts. It blessed my heart to see them blessed. In all honesty I would have never thought they would want military garb.

The next afternoon I slow cooked homemade chicken and rice soup in the crockpot and finished my book. Rainy day, not good for much else than reading, cooking and turning on my lights, lighting up some candles, writing some letters, burn a little insense, pet Mr. Jiggly Puff more than ususal (the cat) and put together another gift to mail out. A teddy bear and a copy of the book, "The Five People You Meet in Heaven" by Mitch Albom. I picked someone at random from the phone book . . . . I just hope it speaks to someone's heart, and brings a 'hug' into their life. I plan to mail it today.

When I was cooking with my crockpot my mind wandered back to a familiar story, one that never evades my memory any time I slow cook with a crockpot. When I was an EMT I responded to a call to a local bar; a murder by stabbing to be exact. We performed CPR for at least 30 minutes but to no avail. When starflight arrived, after three failed attempts with the defibilator, death was pronounced. As we gathered ourselves together and picked up our equipment I'll never forget what another EMT said. "Well, I've got a roast slow cooking so guess I better get going". The sureality of the fact that even in the face of death life just goes on; the world's heart just keeps on a beating without skipping a beat at all really got to me. And the total irreverance and disrespect, the lack of concern for the loss of life we experienced there by the curious patrons with blood shot eyes whistling for me and making cat calls astounded me. The fact that death doesn't always knock on the door and let us know it is coming in sunk deep into my heart. One minute this man was playing pool, the next he was stabbed twice in the belly and died in a room full of strangers, some just hard working men but mostly crackpots and alcoholics.

As the Public Information Officer it was my duty to report on this to the paper, as with all calls, and I can tell you, what I experienced deep down in my spirit that night was the beginning to my end as an EMT. That dead boy reminded me of my homeless, drug [addicted] brother, and how this could have very well been him. Sadly enough I could not shake the deep, dark well I found myself falling into.

Talk to someone. If you are hurting, lost, scared, not sure what to think or how to process something that has happened . . . talk to someone. Don't do what I did, don't over-react or shoot from the hip, don't quit and throw away something you've worked hard for, TALK TO SOMEONE.

If you are alive and breathing, don't waste this gift. Tell someone you love them, they need to hear it.

Peace and blessings to you! :)