I remember explicitly the day I turned 30. Even though that day has now, itself, been thirty years ago, it seems as though it occurred in the not-so-distant past.
I worked that day and did a business closing for a client who was buying an existing business from a not-so-nice seller. It was a hot, sunny August day and I was left in the office that afternoon tending to the transaction with the noticeably disagreeable person (who was not our client) while the partners in our area of the office played a late-summer round of golf. Those same golfing attorneys were treating me and my husband to dinner at their club that evening to celebrate my birthday. By the time dinnertime arrived I was, myself, in a noticeably disagreeable mood as I had allowed the events and personalities of the office to frustrate my special day. I had to apologize the next day for my surly behavior. Not the best way to celebrate the entrance into a new decade.
Less than a month ago – let me say that again – not even a month ago, I cooked (along with the help of a dear friend) a celebratory dinner for our high school’s girls’ basketball team as they were heading to the state tournament. The dinner has become a bit of a tradition over the past several years.
On that Monday morning – not even four weeks ago – I set out to purchase all I would need to feed 30 players and coaches. I drove to Lexington to Sam’s Club, then to Walmart and back home to our Kroger. I cook enough that I know what store has what items for the best prices. I got back home with everything I needed. I never gave it a second thought.
I don’t know why . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (but I know Who holds the water bottle)
As a bit of an intro (not really a disclaimer) – most of my ponderings are (hopefully) fairly relevant across the board. This one is a little more applicable to those who define themselves as Christ-followers – but everyone, please read! You might be surprised . . . .
“I don’t know why . . . . . “
Yeah, I say that a lot!
Usually after I’ve thought and pondered and analyzed a person or a situation, a challenge or a circumstance – – – really, anything – good or bad, happy or sad, blessing or struggle – – – that’s my end result.
I don’t know why.
We’ve already catapulted to the third week of this new year of 2020! Weren’t we just buying extra batteries, food stores and candles for Y2K? We speak in proverbial snippets like “the blink of an eye,” “a week is just nothing,” “where did the time go?” Indeed, time is elusive and fleeting – often our past, present and future collide and collapse so it seems there is no differential at all. The continuum of our lives is but a circle. Sometimes fractured or incomplete – often imperfect and challenging – yet our lives move forward as we remember the past. We move forward in hope that the future will be sweet and kind, rewarding and productive. Much of that future is built on our past – on what we remember.
A couple of years ago my husband and I decided, totally out of the blue, that we should become beekeepers. Doing so would provide us with a hobby, homegrown honey and would most likely help in the pollination of flowers in our yard. So, we ordered a “nuc” (pronounced “nuke”) whereby our starter bees would be delivered the next spring. Honey bees are absolutely fascinating. Since their arrival, we have learned more than we could have ever imagined there was to learn. And, somewhere along the way, our daughters, who started out this episode of our lives being somewhat fearful of the new residents at the back of our yard, began filming their dad giving bee “updates.” He has garnered a bit of a following on their Instagram stories (much to his delight). And the little one liner he works into each of his updates: “Bees just doing what bees do.”
So it got me to thinking – – – that’s exactly what can be said about so many of us: “Moms just doin’ what moms do!” The thing is, most of what “mom is just doin’” is hardly heralded in the world around us. But that doesn’t make it any less vital to the lives of our children, homes and families.