It is a day of fever, a sore throat
and generally feeling blah.
I've cancelled my schedule for Wednesday
in favor of trying to accelerate
recovery from this "bug".
Besides my voice sounds like a foghorn
at the moment and isn't much good for
singing or teaching.
Tonight was supposed to be a long
awaited dinner with Michael and Emily
but can you believe she is also feeling
under the weather?
Poor dear.
I tell you all of this in an attempt to have
you judge me less harshly when I tell
you the reason I was inspired to
pop on here and write this post.
You see
I just noticed something that took me back
to some very special times in my childhood.
Back to the days when we lived in the parsonage
beside the church my Dad pastored.
In that church was a study
where Daddy spent many, many hours
preparing for his Wednesday evening prayer meetings,
Sunday morning and evening sermons.
In the course of most days he would head next door
with plates and cups in hand.
He would return empty handed.
After a while there would be a noticeable shortage
of dishes and glasses in our cupboards.
When this happened Mom would offer my
brother and I an opportunity to earn some
money by gathering all of those things back up again.
Off we would go with a basin to carry our treasures in.
We enjoyed this.
I mean, the man had plates, cups, saucers, spoons, knives and forks
everywhere over there.
It was a very real treasure hunt!
We were paid in coin
but to us it was just what we needed
to purchase
Bottle Caps, Gobstoppers and Grape Bubble Yum
at the little grocery store a few miles away.
It was within reach by bike.
Now you may have figured out what it was that inspired this
memory today.
Perhaps not....
But it was the moment I looked up at the window sill
and saw not one, not two...
but three cups from today.
My cups.
One for hot tea, one was coffee
and one was orange juice.
Apparently the apple doesn't fall far from
the tree when it comes to collecting
cups, at least.
And in a time when my dad is on my mind
I just don't feel too badly about that.
I hope I have other traits of his as well....
since this wasn't one that we generally bragged about,
ok, we never bragged about it....
but he could have had much worse vices
than that of eating in his office.
Well, and not returning his utensils.
But don't you find that it is the little things that
bring them back to our minds?
These ones not with us now.
I'm thankful that it has come to a point where the
pain of loss is less than the sweetness of the memory.
For those who are facing new grief
know that time does help.
Walk the path.
Feel the feelings.
Trust the Lord.
Look forward to that day when the
memories bring sweet comfort
and smiles to your heart.
Miss you, Daddy.
See you when the time is just right.
****
This post is dedicated to two wonderful friends
who have recently lost their fathers
very unexpectedly.
