Farewell to Grandmama and Papaw
On November 8, 2009 my grandmother “graduated to Heaven” as a friend of mine likes to say. Ten days later my grandfather, her husband of 61+ years followed. Grandmama was 86 and Papaw 89, and although neither was in the best of health, their deaths came rather unexpectedly. It seems there is not truly any quiet and peaceful way to face death–particularly from the perspective of the ones left behind. Their absence strikes us as violently as their last gasp for air. Certainly knowing they are in Heaven basking in the pure joy of their God and King, and both together at that, is a great comfort to me. Nevertheless there seems to be a spiritual canyon between us, and an uneasy knowing that we all must one day make that journey. But as a believer in Christ, I have a greater hope in a resurrected body and the redemption of a fallen world.
Farewell to Grandmama: maker of three course breakfasts, reader of nursery rhymes, generous servant to her husband, children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. She was soft and gentle like a lamb, cut from a different fabric than this world. I remember her floral nightgowns, dark brown eyes and how she always smelled of lotion and powder. I would beg her to cut up apples or carrots for me so that I could make a trap in the woods for a stray horse that just might wonder into the back yard. Her words were always kind, although I would quickly become bored as she would tell the same old stories about growing up in Cumberland Gap, TN. How I wish I had paid more attention to them.
Farewell to Papaw: giver of backslapping hugs, watcher of Looney Tunes and (later in life) Judge Judy, collector of native American artifacts. I can see his wide grin and still hear him say, “Hiya Rozzy!” when we would greet. He spent many years outside exploring–hunting arrowheads or hiking in the mountains beside Grandmama. Back pain and instability would later keep him from even walking to the mailbox and I’m sure this must have been hard for him emotionally. I developed a great appreciation of my mountain heritage from the hikes that they would take with me and my sisters. We were always bounding off ahead to see what lay around the next bend but they took things more slowly and savored every wildflower, bird and tree. How I wish I had paid attention to the things they were always pointing out to me.
But I must say that their greatest legacy was their faith. Not that we shared every doctrinal view but we agreed on the fundamentals of the Christian Faith, which is what mattered most. Up until the last conversation I ever had with Papaw, he would always tell me, “You know I pray for you and those kids every single night.” Lord knows I needed those prayers. I could, in fact, use them now.
Attack of the Bear
I think the stress of this move may be starting to get to me. I was driving down the road today trying to figure out what I would do if suddenly attacked by a bear while on a hike, armed only with a small knife. How do you mortally wound a bear? I wondered. What should I aim for–the heart, the neck, the head? If I don’t kill it, I might just make it angrier and then I’m doomed for sure. And what if I have to rescue a companion who is being attacked? I could see myself running at the bear from behind and stabbing it and the bear turning around (merely a flesh wound) and going for me. Would it be like in those dragon movies where you have to find the one and only soft spot and stab it when it is almost on top of you. You know, I really don’t want to have to kill any animal but I’ll do it if I have to! Could I kill a bear? The Bible says the boy David killed a lion and a bear. Well, he was pretty good with a slingshot and he had a little help. Oh, the light is green. ”Thank you!”
Welcome to my mind.
bubble wrap
My life is boxes, tape and bubble wrap. It’s still not quite real to me that in two weeks I will start a new life in Dallas, TX. Honestly, not a place I ever imagined myself living. But people assure me that it is going to be really exciting and fun, and I am very likely to agree with them, to their faces anyway. The idea of starting over in a new place, in a sense reinventing myself, had been very appealing in the beginning but it is quickly losing some of its luster. The stress of packing and fine tuning all the arrangements is starting to remind me of planning my wedding many moons ago–yet with far fewer returns. Perhaps it is all because I realize that very soon I will find myself once again hemmed in by a landscape of boxes and bubble wrap. Will I be able to unwrap myself?
A Nutritional Journey
I tend to be a self-help kind of gal, particularly the kind that involves incorporating the most up-to-date info on health, fitness and nutrition into my daily life. At one time in my life, most of the motivation for studying these topics came from a practically obsessive desire to be skinny. Although perhaps it would not have been classified as an eating disorder, it was certainly borderline. I can tell you straight up that (thankfully) I am not now and never was overweight; however, being a love-starved teenager, coupled with the desire for man’s approval and a deep-seated root of rejection had seriously warped my self-image.
I sat in Nutrition 101 listening to a teacher (who, incidently, with her short cropped platinum locks looked like Susan Powter’s clone) lecture us on the Food Guide Pyramid and the importance of a balanced diet to ensure an adequate supply of calories from carbs, proteins and fats as well as vitamins and minerals. I faithfully studied the texts, passed my multiple choice tests and made an A in the class. However, as I gave a nod of assent to the official dietary commandments, I was really buying into something far from it: the fad diet. The truth had been uncovered; we now knew why people were fat: it was FAT. “Fat makes you fat,” the gurus chanted. I read the books, skimming the parts that included the importance of getting those low fat calories from whole foods, and fat free cookies in hand, jumped wholeheartedly on the bandwagon.
I can remember the insanity of my strict adherence to the diet–in spite of the Susan Powter battlecry to “Stop the Insanity.” One Thanksgiving I insisted that my family make the mashed potatoes with fat free sour cream rather than butter. They were awful, I mean really awful, but I was willing to give up flavor for the sake of looking thin and “beautiful.” My brother-in-law likes to remind me of another time when my friend L (also on the diet) and I went with him and some friends into a burger joint and ordered nothing but buns with ketchup! But we were getting skinny, yes indeed. Thin but woefully undernourished, I was missing the vital nutrients that would make my body strong and my mind sharp.
I remember suffering severe mood swings, hormonal imbalance–the body needs fat to make hormones–and dizzy spells from inadequate calories. Gradually I went the way of most dieters (dieters and not those with a true eating disorder) and shifted back to a more “normal” pattern of eating and these problems corrected themselves. It has been well over 10 years now, and I am still trying to find a truly balanced way of eating. The difference now is that my focus has changed, perhaps even matured. I have moved beyond the superficial motivation of using diet to sculpt myself into an unrealistic societal image to using food for what it was intended–building a better me, from the inside out.
