Today is Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, and as I awakened food was on my mind: ham, turkey & dressing, gravy, vegetables, cranberry sauce, pies, and desserts. As I dressed for the morning, I kept thinking about all the food that would be here at the house tomorrow, wondering if we had enough, but I knew I had to turn my thoughts elsewhere. I had to quit thinking about food and focus on my job, but even as I drove past the local Walgreen's Drug Store, their electronic sign flashed "Krispy Kreme donuts available here!" More food to think about, but it had to be tabled and pushed to the back of my thoughts until after the 11:00 o'clock funeral service.
Friends and family were gathering at the church to celebrate a loved one's life, and I was to be there early to play the piano for the service. The dear departed soul was unknown to me. We had not been friends; but after hearing about him, I wish we had been. Mr. J (that's what I'll call him) was a World War II Veteran who had been stationed in Guam. Pictures were shown of him and his sweetheart as they held each other closely, and pictures of their following sixty-two years together flashed onscreen before us. We saw weddings, new babies, anniversaries, and more new babies, dinners, parties, and then even more new babies. It was a love story for sure, and the pictures revealed a vibrant personality plus strong dedication to family, friends, and of all things... chickens.
Mr. J liked chickens. Now, I have to admit, that I, too, like chickens. Some of my fondest memories as a child are with my neighbor, Mr. Beal and his chickens. He would let me fill the water bottle and turn it upside down (that's what you do with chicken's watering systems), and sometimes he allowed me to feed the chickens. And, as baby chicks hatched, I could watch the miracle happen, and then when the chicks were all fluffy, he would let me love on them and squeeze them... but, not too tightly for fear of crushing them.
Some of the grand kids at today's service told their stories of helping their Grandad with his chickens, feeding and watering them, and I certainly identified with them and their love for the man that introduced them to a new, feathery world. They lovingly and admirably told of experiences they had shared with their Grandad, and it was obvious to me, an outsider, that Mr. J had left a big part of himself inside each grandchild, and that what he believed in will be carried on and will be lived through his children and their following generations.
Already touched by this man's legacy, I knew that this memorial service would stand out in my mind as one of those special ones. As a musician, I play for many funeral services, and they all are dear. However, some are much more memorable than others, and this one definitely fits into that category. This one was sweet, tender and loving, and one I hope I will always remember. In my heart I thanked the Lord that I could be there and be a part of this circle of family and friends, and I thought the best had already been shared, until the last grandchild spoke and told this simple story, one that centers around, you got it... food.
When she was a small girl, and a member of the Brownie troop, she sang the Brownie song to her Grandad. He asked her if she knew the last verse to the song, and she didn't, so with a twinkle in his eye, he sang it to her. She shared it with her troop leader who also had never heard that verse and taught the last verse to all the girls. They all loved it, but somehow throughout the years, the memory has faded, and now, years later, the granddaughter can't remember the tune or the words to the Brownie song. That memory is gone, but she can still remember the main thing about that verse, the last line that her Grandaddy taught her.
It's a profound statement; very plain and simple, and I thought about it all the way back home as I drove past the post office, the school, and the Walgreen's with its "Krispy Kreme" sign still flashing. I thought about my life, and what I'm doing with it, and what I'm not doing with it. It made me wonder about my priorities, and what really is important to me, and with it being the Thanksgiving season, it caused me to consider my gratitude. Am I really aware of my amazing, abundant, incredible blessings? Do I have a clue as to how blessed I really am? And, then... am I thankful for them? Truly thankful? Or, have I slidden into the trench of ingratitude and dug my ruts so deeply that I'll never see more than my own selfishness, my own greediness? I pray that's not the case, not my future. Heavens, I pray not so.
I tell you, friends, even though I was at a funeral today, today was a good day for me. I enjoyed remembering my childhood friend, and I was blessed to find new ones. My eyes were opened as a new friend's closed eyes helped me see something about myself. It's not a pretty picture, the glimpse I saw of me, and it isn't one I'm proud of. But, it is one that can be changed. Starting right now, I will pay more attention to, I will be more aware of, and I will be more grateful for all that I have and for what God has given me. I will focus more on what I have, and focus less on what I don't have... or as she told us today, just as her grandaddy, Mr. J once told her, his precious little granddaughter, and as I am now telling you...
"focus on the donut, not the hole."
Sincerely looking for ways to express my gratitude,
and ways to stay focused,
Cindy Lou
p.s. Thanksgiving is more than just a day, isn't it?
@ Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved.
@Copyright 2011, 2012 Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.
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