You Ole Crook!

Mama -  I was so thankful for a day at home and a chance while working at menial jobs to think about my mom. Well if you can call shoveling out two automobiles from several feet of snow, menial. But a multitude of memories came to mind throughout the day.

When my work was done and I finally had a moment to sit before the fire with a cup of coffee, I reached for the recent Decision magazine that had just come. But instead the little matchbox holder on my fireplace caught my eye. I  looked at the worn red holder and couldn't help but reflect once again. I had decided to keep this little container for my own when I moved my folks out of their home. It was old fashioned and now rare; one that my dad had in the basement, work room of our home with the wood stove. I knew where he had gotten it; it was my Grandpa P's and I am pretty sure it was hanging in Grandpa's wood shed for as long as I remember...all the years of my childhood.

That led to more thoughts of my mom. Yep, I knew why this was happening throughout the day. She had been on my mind when things were finally a bit slow for me....well not so much slow, (shoveling snow, you know) but free to do my own work at home rather than something for someone else. Oh wait! They aren't my automobiles. ;-) But you know what I mean. Being outside and working on my own, (and truthfully, releasing some anger) finally gave my mind time to unwind and to think, to process and to remember. And those thoughts were to continue at rest as well.

But now, I want to write about some of these memories - not really for anyone, but myself. Some day, if I were ever to forget, I can look back and remember. The memory will be written down. I think that's ok. For those reading, I suppose I use my blog, too much as a journal. Anyway, I digress.

Something I have thought about writing about in a blog post for some time is the hanger on my dishwasher. My mom made it for me, several years ago so that I could know whether my dishes were clean or dirty in my dishwasher. It says "Clean" on one side and "Dirty" on the other. It is so cute!! But my mom felt bad when I got a new dishwasher and there was no longer a place to hang it. Later, she bought me a little magnetic hook. It sounds silly, but at the time, I didn't know what the hook was for. It was a busy time, I suppose, and I never made the connection. Mama was so pleased when she gave it to me, just assuming I would know the purpose. I thanked her for it, but I really never understood. It wasn't until shortly after she passed away that I looked at that little hook that I had placed on my refrigerator and it hit me like a ton of bricks. That hook was for my "Clean/Dirty" sign!!! How could I not know that!! Oh Mama, I am so sorry! I probably didn't thank you properly either! In that moment, I moved the hook to my dishwasher and quickly placed the little "Clean/Dirty" sign on it!

As you can see in the photo, it works perfectly! I hung the "Clean" side for this photo. Mama would like that better. ;-) And truthfully, as bad as I feel about not understanding, I think my mama would be getting a good laugh at me finally realizing what it was for. And that makes me smile.

Another treasured memory is my knitted green slippers that covered my feet as I sat in front of the fire. For years Mom would make me slippers, whenever I let her know I needed a new pair. They were a treasure for me then!! I loved her slippers best. But when we moved to our new home, (well over a decade ago, now) the carpet was much worse for wear and tear on my slippers than at our other home. So I wore through them faster, but she was always ready to make me a new pair. This pair of slippers she kept for me at her home so there would be something for me to put on while I worked there or had to spend the night there. She kept them just for me...

"Don't let anyone else wear them, ok, Mom?" I had asked when I told her I wanted to leave them there at her house. Whenever I would arrive, she would say, "Do you want your slippers?" And she would go fetch them from her closet where they were placed away just for me. She wanted me to know, no one else had worn them. That was my mama. Wanting to please her kids and do for us whenever she could and however we liked. I don't wear my slippers all the time anymore. I want them to last as long as possible. This is the last pair I have that she made that remain without holes.

So there...there are a few of the types of memories working through my thoughts as I worked today, but also as I sat down to rest.

So like I said, as I got comfortable in my chair to read, my mama popped back into my mind - the matchbox holder, the catalyst this time. As my heart grew heavy again, I realized at moments like these, I need to start thinking of her in Heaven instead of reliving all these memories that make me so sad. Now I think those memories are good for me too, at times. But sometimes it is time to think of something to alleviate the grief.

Picture her in Heaven. It was like God spoke this to my heart. And so I did...and my first thought was of how happy she must have been seeing her folks again. I immediately pictured her with them. How she loved her dad! I was reminded of the special relationship they had. They would be playfully bantering with each other, now together again, I thought. And I pictured my grandpa sitting in his big easy chair, gently tapping the leather arm with his fingers, rolling them from his little finger to his index finger. He sat with a content smile on his face. Then all of a sudden in ran my mama, pretty and vibrant and young.

"Well, you ole crook!" She verbally jostled with him while laughing from deep within.

And right then, I knew this was a moment sent by God to comfort me. I hadn't thought of that phrase in years. In fact, I am sure I had forgotten all about it. It was what my grandpa would say to people as a greeting. And people who knew him, said it back to him as well. Well, especially my mama. It was their way of affection in greeting each other.

Now if anyone has read this far, don't misunderstand. I am not advocating being able to see into Heaven, or any communication from the dead, or anything weird like that. I simply think this was a gentle reminder from God, that everything is ok. And yes, God does that. My mama is good. She is in Heaven, with Jesus and with people she loves. The phrase simply made it real for me. It let me know this was a caring word from God.

I started to cry. Grateful for the memory, grateful for a time to reflect; grateful for healing tears, and most of all grateful for the assurance that my mama is doing far better than what I focus on here - that she is gone from my presence. She is that - gone. But she is far better. She is with Jesus and also with that man she lovingly called an "ole crook". And that makes me smile...through tears, but I smile.