The Luckiest Night of His Life

Six years ago I received an invitation to a 30 year class reunion with friends that were older than me.  I'd never been to a class reunion for a group of folks that I didn't even graduate with.  But these were friends.  I was sure I'd know a lot of people there.  The night before the actual reunion, we all met at a local gathering place where the food was good, the music was good and friends were all around.  In through the door walked this handsome guy with a white starched shirt, blue jeans and boots.  He immediately caught my attention but I didn't recognize him.  Thirty years and gray hair didn't help either!  After stopping and talking to others, he made his way to our table and hugged my best friend.  They remembered each other and used to ride the school bus together when they were little.  He grabbed her and whisked her off to the dance floor.  He was friends with her husband and had actually been with her husband the night they met years ago.  I sat at the table watching as they danced and talked.  I could see her pointing back at me and he was looking my way.  He remembered me from school but I didn't remember him.  The next dance was mine and he didn't let go of me for the rest of the night.  As a matter of fact, he still holds me close every night!  Three years later, on July 27, 2008, we married.

I've never been treated so wonderfully in my life.  Finally, I feel safe, secure and loved.  It's like living with a very best friend.  There's no arguing, no stress and we get along wonderfully.  I can tell him anything and he listens and understands.  We have date nights on Friday.  He loves my family and I love his.  We renewed our commitment to our Christianity and started going to church together five years ago and that has made a tremendous impact on our personal lives together.  We had both always been unequally yoked in the past and now it all felt right because we have a life together that is protected by God's love.

He's a life-long fisherman and has the patience of Job when we are in a boat together.  I get bored easily if  fish aren't biting so I always make sure I have plenty of magazines and a good book to read. He can spend hours not saying a word, casting quietly as we float around a lake or down a river.  I enjoy the peaceful retreat and if I'm not reading, I'm watching the beautiful scenery that floats slowly by.  We make occasional comments on birds and turtles.  We talk about the beautiful over-hang of old trees.  And sometimes we're just quiet and let the peacefulness soak into our minds.  Everyone should be so fortunate to appreciate that this type of quiet time is needed, whether it's floating in a boat or sitting on a swing on the porch.  It's medicine for a weary soul and it's a blessing to be able to share it with someone you love with all your heart. 

He makes me laugh uncontrollably.  It would take days to write all the crazy, funny things he has done to me.  From acting like he'd been electrocuted to dancing in the kitchen to wrapping a belt around his arm and making me think a snake had attacked him, he has been a prankster.  He loves to act crazy in stores, putting on crazy hats and making embarrassing remarks when we're in the lingerie department.  But when life gets serious, and sometimes it does, he's there to help give advice and encourage me.  He makes my days brighter!

When I Think of Courage

When I think of the word "courage" Linda always comes to my mind.  I met her in the first grade way back in 1964.  She was this little, skinny, kinky-blond-haired girl with beautiful blue eyes.  She moved away for a short time but then when she came back we became such good friends.  We graduated high school together, we married the wrong men and moved our separate ways, she had children, I never did.  We went through divorces, we worked together, we walked together at night and talked.  I could tell her anything and knew it would never leave her mouth. She had a beautiful Christian spirit about her that I will always carry very close to my heart.  She had the voice of an angel.  She sang in our Swing Choir in school, sang in our church youth group choir when we were teenagers and, as an adult, sang in her church choir. 

I picked her up for lunch one day and when she got in the car she was limping.  When I asked what was wrong, she made a joke about falling and I joked back, saying I'd always heard when the cows started falling, it was going to rain.  We were friends like that, we made each other laugh.  That day she ordered her favorite "#1" off the menu, a turkey club sandwich.  When I got back to work, I entered the cost of our lunch in my checkbook and out beside the entry, I wrote the words "Faithful Friend."  I didn't know at the time what made me do that.  But looking back, God wrote that for me as a reminder.  It was the last time I had lunch with my friend.

The very next week Linda fell again.  This time she went to the doctor.  It was back.  The cancer she had 8 years ago was back.  Only this time it was in her brain, her lungs and her spine.  I was devastated and cried as she told me.  She was strong and let me lay my head in her lap while I fell apart.  Over the next few weeks, I watched her hair fall out and her body swell.  She never complained.  Just always had that sweet smile and soft voice when I walked in the room. 

For Christmas, she was in the hospice house.  All she wanted was to live to see her little grandson open his Christmas presents and all I wanted was to hear her sing again, a song that was popular in high school called The Lion Sleeps Tonight.  She could do all the parts and it was one of my favorites when we were in school.  There, in the quiet of that hospital room, she held my hand and started singing.  As weak as she was, her voice came out strong, clear and beautiful.  Nurses and volunteers gathered at the door in amazement.  My very weak friend, who could barely talk was singing like she did back in high school!  No one entered the door as I think they realized it was a time that would never be again for me.  They just stood back in awe at her beautiful voice.  I held her hand and laid my head down on the bed beside her and cried again.  I was doing that almost daily now.  When she got through singing, she rubbed my head and said, "You always were such a wimp!"  Because she wasn't sure she'd live till Christmas, the week before she gave me a little silver bracelet that I've never taken off my wrist.  On the front is engraved my name, and on the back, in very small letters it says, "Love always, Linda".  That tiny little bracelet is very precious to me and often I turn it over and read the words and smile.

Her funeral was the only one I'd ever been asked to speak at in my entire life.  I was nervous, I had notes, I wanted to say all the right things.  On the morning of the service, my dear friend Pat called and told me she knew I was speaking at the funeral and she was praying for me.  I told Pat I had notes and she said, "Take those notes and put them away, she's been your friend a long time, you don't need the notes...you just speak what's in your heart."  When I arrived at the service, my knees felt like rubber, my heart was hurting, my eyes were burning from the tears I'd cried.  I was escorted to the front row and there I sat with my notes in my lap.  Then, I remembered what Pat said earlier.  She was right....Linda had been my friend for 47 years....I didn't need notes.  I folded them and placed them in the seat beside me and when it was time for me to speak, I left them behind.  Pat was right.  The words in my heart flowed and I didn't cry like I thought I would.  I kept Linda's words, "You always were a wimp," in the back of my mind and I actually smiled during my eulogy to the passing of her life.  Pat had prayed for me and that kept everything in order for me that day.

Linda's been gone now for almost two years.  Some days I pick up the phone and dial her office number to ask her to go lunch.  And then I hang up, realizing she's not there anymore.  The last thing she told me was that she loved me.  Sometimes when I'm in my car, The Lion Sleeps Tonight comes on the radio.  When it does, I turn it up loud and listen.  Heaven has a fabulous angel in it's choir now and I have an empty spot in my life where she used to be.

A New Friend Moves In

Not that any dog could ever replace Bo, but we did acquire a new red heeler cattle dog named Buster.  He's trying very hard to find his place and be friends with the other dogs.  Barney (in the basket with Buster) tolerates him and Jack, our little rat terrier, latches on to the side of his face when he plays too rough. 

All of our dogs are rescue dogs.  Buster came from a very rough environment that I was glad I didn't see.  Jeff heard about him and picked him up and brought him to a happier, cleaner environment.  It was pretty nasty from what I hear.  Barney was abused by a young man who kicked and beat him to the point the mother placed him up for sale (the dog, not the young man!)  When we found Jack, he was living in a tiny apartment, inside a very tiny cage.  He was wild and crazy and nervous.  The little children that lived in the home terrorized him and he was one happy camper when Jeff said, "We'll take him!" and carried him home. 

Life at our house is quiet and laid back and we don't like stress.  We avoid it and try to stay away from it as much as possible.  So when you drive up and see Buster stretched out on the swing, Barney drinking his morning coffee on the porch and Jack laying on his side in front of the fireplace, you know that all is well at our house!

Losing a Friend

My goodness! What in the world happened to the past almost two years? How can I ever catch up with all the things I wanted to say? I forgot I even set this blog up. Time gets away from me. A new position at work, watching new projects unfold at home,losing a dear friend to brain cancer, trips to the mountains...the past two years have flown.

I stumbled across this picture of old Bo, our blue heeler cattle dog. He was my husband's faithful friend for 18 years. Came here on a semi truck from Big Spring, Texas. I took this picture of Bo and Jeff just a week before his death. There is something very profound to me about the way they are looking into each others eyes. There is trust there, there is love there. There are many, many miles of riding in the back of the truck with his head hanging over the side. Many nights of protecting our home, patroling the pastures and the woods around the house. Many hours of lazy sleep around the barn during the day.  He was such a good sport a couple of years ago at Christmas when we took pictures of him with reindeer antlers on.  I almost got him to smile! 

I've heard my husband say the old quote many times, "Lord, help me be the man my dog thinks I am." Bo has been gone almost a year now and we miss him every day. We sometimes think we see him coming around the corner of the barn. Sometimes we whistle for him and when the other three dogs arrive, we realize Bo is no longer with us. The day he died, we both cried so much we couldn't even make it to church. Our little Barney dog laid in my lap and I literally had to take tissues and wipe his tears away. I never realized a dog could cry from a broken heart. He had lost his big, loveable, protective friend. Jeff buried him where the woods and pasture meet and we sat on the tailgate of the truck and talked about him all afternoon. We miss you Bo.