Bronchitis, Influenza A, and whooping cough. More efficient to just do them all at once and get it over with.
Being sick is a bit like a snow day (except you feel worse.) It is a free day, no expectations, no plan, spontaneous. But I am under doctor's orders to rest and try to get over this wealth of germs and not spread these viruses any further. (Having been sick with one thing after another for a month now, I have decided that perhaps she is right. I never said I was a fast learner.) Thus, here I sit on a cold, sunny day, all kinds of work calling my name, but ignoring everything that I should be doing, which is a frustrating, but perhaps positive, thing to do from time to time, and just do nothing.
Except, as it turns out, I can't just do nothing. (I am, as always, surprised by this, although no one else seems to be, which is interesting.) So I am using the time to go through a few things that I have long neglected, trying to get things more organized around here.
Among other artifacts from my life, I found an old address book from 15 or 20 years ago, and leafed through it. So many names of beloved people now gone. If there is one thing I wish I could impress upon young people, it is to cherish the connections with those in your life who are old. They have wisdom well beyond your years, and you will miss them so much when they are gone. It is too easy to take for granted that which you have always known - unconditional love, wise counsel, happy times of stories and laughter.
I did not have grandparents, they were all gone by the time I was four. But I did have a Great Uncle Martin, who was not only an awesome person in and of himself, but also a wealth of information about a grandmother I never had a chance to know. And a whole lot of other stuff, too. I had the opportunity to exchange letters with him and his wife, Mildred, (and his second wife, Jessie,) for many years. I knew it was special, but I didn't properly appreciate just how much until I got into my 50's, and realized what a gift he gave to me in sharing himself and his life with me. I was so lucky to know him, and I miss him still.
I had uncles Albion, Phillip, Harris, Fritz, Bud, Cordet, and Harry - each one unique and special in their own way. Every one of them taught me something about life I have never forgotten, and have used in my journey. I remember listening to them talk, laugh, and be family together. I had no idea then how blessed I was, but I sure do appreciate it now.
My beloved aunts, Marian, Aldora, and Alice - for some reason, the first vision I have of each one is in their kitchen. Marian would be getting a little "lunch" for us at Albion's insistent urging. Cookies, cake, or at least a little ice cream was always on offer the moment you walked through their front door, and Marian would be off to the kitchen to make sure it was ready to go. Aldora had a large (and always hungry!) family, and the scent of something delicious was always wafting from her warm oven. Alice's love language was service, I think, and one of the ways she served was her gift of food. Whether on the stove or in the oven, it was going to be delicious. Just the thought of her donuts makes my mouth water. (And her fattigmand was no slouch, either. Oooh. Delectible.) The kitchen is the heart of the family, and my aunts are certainly at the heart of my extended family, too. How lucky I was to learn from them, not just about food, but about living life well.
There is a cousin, Tom, who is listed in my book. He was my age, and we grew up together. We saw each other a lot through each week, at church, at school, and at family occasions. He could be a difficult person to know - easy on the surface, but so much running underneath that most people never imagined. Much like me, which is, perhaps, why we connected in the way that we did. He kept his feelings close, but those he loved, he loved deeply. I miss his teasing, his goofiness, his presence. But I learned from him, as well. I think he would be shocked to know how much his life mattered and to how many people. He certainly mattered to me. I am glad I told him that while I had the chance.
There are names of friends that are gone, too. Some of them have passed into history because that season of life has changed, and we have lost touch. Some of them have passed through my life because I needed to learn something from them at that moment in time. Some of them have passed away, gone from this life, but not from my heart. But as I look over each name, I realize they are an indelible part of the life I have now. Each one is a piece of the puzzle of my journey, and I am grateful for the part they played, whatever it may have been. Without them, I would be a different person than I am, and may not have the life I do.
The remaining names in my book are reassuringly present still, and I am grateful for each one. But for today, it has been fun to peek into my past, see all these names of those I miss, and be reminded of how loved I have been. Sometimes, it is good to look over your shoulder. It reminds you to be grateful for every opportunity life throws your way. One person cannot change the world. But one person can change your world. I am blessed.
