Going Vertical

Paul’s first attempt to get out of bed and take a few steps came  hours after surgery.   The surgery was a great success and he was feeling so good, relatively, he wanted to see if he could walk to the bathroom and pee standing up.  The nurse carefully got Paul out of the bed and there he was, standing in all the glory of his hospital gown, a firm grip on the walker and determined look in his eye.  His good buddy Rex was standing close, at the ready.

“Rex, help me get to the dang bathroom.”  Walking slowly, gently placing his weight on the surgery-side leg and with Rex on one side and the nurse on the other, he walked to the bathroom.  Hallelujah, he was able to move under his own power and feeling less pain.  Relief flooded my heart.  Paul negotiated the 10 steps and stood close to the toilet, ready to celebrate his victory.  Rex stood by his side while Melissa and I waited back by the bed, wanting to give the guys a tad of privacy.  All was quiet.  After a few minutes, I heard Paul say, “Rex, I’m having trouble getting started.  Turn on the water in the sink, will you?”  Rex leaned over and turned the water on.  Melissa and I listened to the water running in the sink, but after a few more minutes there was still only one steady stream. 

“Rex, can you put your hand in there and make it sound like a waterfall?  I think that will help.”  Rex obliged, and Melissa and I tried to keep from laughing.  Paul began to talk out loud, encouraging himself.  “Come on, let’s get down to business.  What are you waiting for?  Dang it, the running water should help!”  Finally Melissa spoke up.  “You know, you can always go back to bed and use the urinal or try again later,” she said hopefully. 

Eventually that is what he did.  Shuffling back to his raised hospital bed, muttering about water and being a dang pansy he let us ease him back to bed.   Moving first the injured leg then his torso, tiny increments at a time, we maneuvered his body into alignment, stopping for him to rest after each move.  Once he was straight in the bed, we adjusted the support stockings, strapped on the required blue foam pillow to keep his legs apart and aligned and lowered the top of his bed until he said it was better.

In his good spirits and still filled with anesthesia from the surgery, Paul released me from spending the night at the hospital.  Not wanting another night in the recliner and desperately in need of a few uninterrupted hours of sleep I gratefully accepted.  He was asleep almost before I left the room and I high tailed it out of there before he could change his mind.

At home in my warm bed on a featherbed topper and under a down comforter I said a prayer of thanks and set my alarm.  Tomorrow was bound to be another interesting day.

Monday Night Dinners

Taco Night.  Monday Night Dinners.  These terms mean a lot to our family and “family” who participated back when.  Recently we revived the practice and had some of our kids, theirs and their friends from junior high & beyond who were regulars.

Some things have changed.  The kids are in their twenties now; their friends have careers and college educations and fiancés or regular steadies.  Some have babies and children which only adds to the chaos and fun.  And Paul and I have classed up the menu a bit.  When Sydney arrived she said, “Walter said Taco Night so of course I couldn’t miss it.  Then he said steak and baked potatoes, and seemed surprised that I was confused!”  Who says Monday Taco Night can’t be on a Wednesday with prime beef steaks?  But the love, banter, all hands helping in the kitchen and the laughter haven’t changed.  Oh the laughter, music to my heart and balm for my soul. 

Laura was in town (oh happy day!) so she helped me prepare the dining room table.  A setting for everyone, this time totaling 12 since all the kids but baby Liam were old enough to sit at the big table.  Kaelyn and Liam were already with us, Kaelyn playing upstairs with Emily and Molly, Liam either in Aunt Lolly’s lap or Grandma’s arms.  Paul had the steaks marinating, potatoes in the oven and grill ready to fire up.  Amanda and Austin arrived first, and as she set about preparing her awesome spinach/walnut salad she and Laura caught up.  Austin, a “tree-man”, and Paul went immediately outside evaluating our tree situation. 

Pretty soon Walter and Eryn arrived, looking refreshed – amazing what a couple of kid-free hours can do.  Birthday-month boy was in full form, already asking about presents.  Another thing that doesn’t change :)  A knock at the door and Aunt Tracy was here.  She’s still and always the Cool Aunt – another thing that doesn’t change.  She and I were looking pretty festive in our Jamaica sundresses we’d worn out to dinner on our recent Sib Trip. 

I kept looking heavenward, my grateful heart overflowing as the volume inside my home rose to include kids laughing and squealing, dogs weaving in and out of people’s legs, girls exclaiming over the baby and taking turns holding that precious cuddle bug, and all in the male species busying themselves with platters of steaks and tending the grill.  Amanda joked, “How many guys does it take to grill steaks?  However many there are.”

At table, platters in place and glasses poured, Paul offered God a heartfelt prayer of gratitude in Jesus’ name for our blessings, abundance, means to have the meal and loved ones to share it with, and a request that our time together be special.  And it was.

Walt quickly started the witty repartee by asking about the oversized round saucer under his plate.  I said, “Those are chargers, of course.  You know, like we always had when you were growing up….”  Which made us all laugh because I wouldn’t have known a charger if it bit me back in the day.  He announced his ‘placemat’ would be the overflow for his food.  Sydney quietly asked if she might have a fork, setting off another round of jokes and laughter about my table setting attempt at elegance for this crew.  Conversation flowed as freely as the second servings; no silence at these meals and I loved it.  Liam at one end drooling as he worked in a tooth, Austin at the other beginning to clear the dishes that were officially empty, and Paul and I seated in-between, feeling as happy and contented as we looked.

During dessert I decided to give Walter his birthday present, the long awaited 6-string acoustic guitar he had hoped for. I loved seeing excitement and appreciation light up his face.  Amanda asked him to play something, so he entertained us with his Song in C, which was the only chord he knew at that moment.

You know it’s a good party when everyone shows up and stays later than they intended.  But even excellent evenings must end.  Hugs.  Collecting condiments and childrens’ items to be taken home.  Thank-yous and goodbyes and promises to do it again.  More hugs.  As I watched the last person drive away and returned to my already-cleaned kitchen, all I could think of was Psalm 16:6.  Whether we have tacos or tater-tots,

            “The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places.”

The Harper Dynasty

J. D. Harper was one of the kindest men I ever knew.  I first met him in the late 1970’s when I moved onto Brentwood Street.  As a young adult in my twenties right out of college I didn’t have much money after paying rent and bills.  But the folks at the neighborhood shopping center always treated me with friendliness and the utmost and respect.  At the Crestview Minimax the owner, Herb Prellop, always greeted me by my first name.  What little dry cleaning I had I took to Sabrina at Perfecto Cleaners.  I got my hair cut at Crestview Beauty Salon.  And all my drug store needs were met by Mr. and Mrs. Harper at Crestview Pharmacy.

Most of the time I just needed sundries but occasionally I needed to fill a prescription and Mr. Harper always had what I needed.  Their service was so fast there was never a need to wait, but often I would stay a bit and talk with Mr. Harper about how business was, or the weather.  Or Mrs. Harper would fill me in on the latest about the children and grandchildren as they started to come along.  I could look up above the counter and keep with the grandchildren and follow their progress through school. 

Once I was very sick and went to the pharmacy to get a prescription filled.  When Mr. Harper told me how much the medicine was my face fell.  I realized I didn’t have enough money to pay for it and payday was still a week away.  He was very kind and suggested that he set me up with a charge account.  I didn’t even know what that was.   He had to explain that it would allow me to sign for my purchases, they would send me a statement in the mail and I could send them a check.  I was amazed - me, a young lady with no credit worthiness other than my promise to pay and the fact I was a regular customer – I had my very own charge account at a local business!   My loyalty to the Harpers was cemented in that moment and I remain a customer to this day. 

Later when I was married and began to have babies I would bring them to the pharmacy with me.  Mrs. Harper always oohed and aahed over them and I solicited her advice on their current health or development issues.  She gave her opinion about colic, sleep habits, toilet training.  When they got older they began to look forward to the pieces of candy she would hand out to them.  Going to the pharmacy was always a treat for them.  Years later when they were in high school and driving, I could send them to the pharmacy and they could pick up our medicine by simply signing on the account. I’d get a statement to review for exactly what they signed for and that added some accountability along with their new-found freedom.

I knew that J.D. was well-educated, a successful businessman, husband, father, grandfather and knew the pharmacy business well.  At his memorial service, I learned also that he was a fellow-Believer, a veteran, an entrepreneur, a native of Ranger, Texas, and had a wonderful dry sense of humor.  Mrs. Harper was his high school sweetheart and they were married over 55 years. 

Attending Mr. Harper’s service was very important to me.  We must never let our lives get so busy that we don’t make time to honor the lives of those who have made a huge impact on our own.   J. D. Harper was a good, honorable man who made a significant impact in my life and who was a great help to me when I needed it most.  I praise the Lord for J.D.’s life, for the lives of his sons who will carry on the Harper Dynasty, and for the continued opportunity to show my gratitude and loyalty by giving my business to the Harpers at Crestview Pharmacy.

Priceless Friends

I had dinner with two dear friends last night.  May not sound like much to blog about at first, but you have to understand I don’t get out much.  My sweet husband’s idea of taking me out is having dinner on our back deck.  If he really wants to make it romantic, he’ll make sure Duke’s water bowl is full so we can dine with the sound of  “lapping waves”.  But my man and the Duke are at the family Ranch this weekend.  There is much man-stuff to do, you know – tractor repair, target practice, framing and wiring for the remodel of the old house, wild hog hunting at night, but no duck hunting because the season is over.  And plenty of good food too, my husband and his brother are both fabulous cooks.  But that’s another blog.

Back to my dinner with friends.  It had been an intense day at work for me, with a little more than the usual stress, so I was really ready to sit down in a nice atmosphere with people I enjoy and have someone wait on me.  We chose a nice upscale (that’s just a fancy word for pricey) restaurant near work; I was there and seated by 6.  Thankfully our drinks and appetizers just made it in under their ‘half-price apps ‘til 6’ – good food always tastes so much better when it’s ½ price.  And yes, the entrees were excellent as well, but the best thing about the meal was the company.   You can go to a nice restaurant any time – well, you can if you are blessed with a job and room in your budget for eating out.  But in this crazy-busy world we live in finding a night that meets everyone’s schedule to have dinner with friends is not something to take for granted.  

These two are particularly special to me.  They were both part of my church family during some extremely hard years while my kids were growing up.  One was my daughter’s youth leader at church for a number of years; not only was that youth group an important stable part of her life back then, but it was at a youth retreat that she accepted Christ as a teenager, so I am particularly fond of her for helping to channel my daughter into God’s plan.   As it happened the other friend was more of an influence in my son’s life; their temperaments are quite suited to one another.  His teen years were tumultuous, but the steady exposure to quality people like these two who really cared about him was a huge factor in him turning into a fairly well-grounded young man.  He learned early on that God’s Plan A is other people.

I’ve shared women’s retreats, worked on retreat teams, sang in the choir and had some excellent laughs over the years with these friends.  It’s a part of my past I wouldn’t trade for anything.  What makes it all the more special is that now we are still good friends – better friends, in fact, than before.  And when we share a meal we can talk about the present but we can also easily talk about the past because they know my history, and I know some of theirs.   It’s a bond you can’t buy or fashion in a few weeks or pretend like you have when you don’t.

Great Meal – just a tad over-priced.  Great Friends – priceless.