My Papa

There are so many things that I never seem able to speak out loud. 

Charles Everett "Bo" Thompson left this life for his eternal home on November 15, 2020. He was eighty-eight years old. 

I can't pinpoint my earliest memories. Papa picked me up every afternoon when I was in elementary school, and I remember that his radio was always set to AM 750. We would talk about life while we were in the car, and Papa would always (always) jokingly ask if my boyfriend had all of his teeth. I remember the day that my Dad showed up in the car line instead of Papa. My grandfather had a ruptured appendix and was in the hospital. I remember crying when I overheard how sick he had been because I was afraid he wouldn't be able to play with me anymore. My fears were unfounded, and when we did flag football in middle school Phys Ed, Papa taught me how to throw a football. I learned how to shoot hoops in my grandparent's driveway, and I can still visualize Papa teaching me how to do a layup. 

My grandfather's specialty was installing ceilings, but he generally worked in construction most of his life. He once built a wooden "car" that the grandkids could pull to the top of the hill and "drive" down. We changed direction by pulling on a rope. Rolling down the hill never got old, and I think Papa enjoyed the ride as much as his grandchildren. 

I could usually hear my grandfather before I saw him. His voice could carry halfway across a building, and he always had a story to share. I have never met anyone who seemed so at ease talking to other people. He never met a stranger, and he would eventually come around to his favorite topic: the Bible. Papa actively pastored for more than fifty years. He seemed like a walking encyclopedia of scriptural knowledge. If I had a theological question, he had a Bible verse or a book for that. I will never forget sitting on the front pew with him as a child, feeling special in my frilly dress, and listening to him sing "Jesus Saves." I have always marveled at how scripture seemed so woven into every aspect of my grandfather's life. 

I remember the two of us taking a field trip around Saint Joseph's hospital when my Dad was having heart surgery. Papa was jittery just sitting and waiting for news, so we went to find the helicopter. I adored adventures with Papa, even if we were just tracking down coffee in a hospital or looking at birds at the funeral home. 

When my grandmother got sick, our family started having Monday night dinners at my grandparent's house. Papa would cook meat, boxed macaroni, instant potatoes, and canned vegetables. He was proud of himself for learning to cook in his seventies, and I honestly don't know what made his cornbread so good. He said it was the skillet. I learned a lot about servitude by watching my grandfather care for my grandmother. She was bedridden for three years, but I never once heard him complain. 

A week after I accidentally poured boiling water down my leg, Papa bought me a pouring lid boiler so that I wouldn't hurt myself again. I feel like that's the best story to end my ramblings because it perfectly captures a giving nature. I'm not at all sure what I'm going to do without someone that I have doted on for as long as I can remember. Someone who has been so influential in my life. So steady. So constant. I feel extremely grateful to have been given thirty-five years, but it will never feel like enough. I'm even more grateful that he was able to remain independent. He was standing in the pulpit two days before he went to the hospital, and I know he wouldn't have wanted it any other way. It is so fitting that Papa left for heaven on a Sunday morning. 

"Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away." James 4:14

"But as it is written, 'What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him.'" 1 Corinthians 2:9

Update from the Inside

If life had cooperated, I would have been bashing around New York City with my husband and son today. The NFHS marching band had plans to perform in Central Park, and we were going to see a  Broadway show this evening. A little more than a week ago, however, Broadway went dark. The Metropolitan Museum closed down. All non-essential businesses in New York City have closed their doors. Our local schools have switched over to online learning, and many individuals are working remotely from home. If I was reading my last entry at Thanksgiving and skipped to this entry with no other context, I would be very confused. I would wonder what kind of war or pestilence had caused every-day-life to grind to a halt.

In November of 2019, a respiratory disease caused by a novel (new) coronavirus began spreading in Wuhan, China. Within four months, the virus has spread globally and infected almost 300,000 people. The world death toll has now surpassed 11,000. We are being told to shelter in place and avoid essential contact. Don't touch your face, and wash your hands constantly. Bars and restaurants have closed down or moved to take-out orders only. I have been watching earth cams in various places around the world. Times Square is desolate. Paris is sluggish.

As someone who has been a germ freak for the last decade or so, it's not so difficult for me to obsessively sanitize surfaces, avoid my face, and wash my hands before touching things. I'm extremely good at living in a bubble. I have perfected it. The difficulty comes in when I have a ten-year-old that laughs at my social distancing space (3 feet minimum) and insists on snuggles. My exasperation kicks in when my fifteen-year-old son eats without washing his hands. My husband sighs at me, which means that he's forcibly blowing air in my general direction. My thirteen-year-old shares some of my OCD tendencies and stops in her tracks when my eyes flick up, signaling that she has come close enough.

No one knows when this will end. The United States has been told practice social distancing for fifteen days in an attempt to "flatten the curve." Ultimately we will not change the total number of infected people, but we can hopefully spread infections out over a longer period of time and keep from overwhelming the strained healthcare system. Meanwhile, our healthcare staff are facing a protective equipment shortage, and they run the risk of being exposed while trying to care for others. People are stock-piling toilet paper, cleaning supplies, gloves, masks, and thermometers. Stores are also sold out of milk, bread, meat, rice, and other shelf-stable items, highlighting the supreme selfishness of humanity. Walking into stores depresses me, but then I see school systems continuing to provide meals for hungry children. I hear about stores re-stocking shelves and committing the first hour of business to our more vulnerable senior citizens. Quarantined individuals in Italy are making neighborhoods ring as they sing together from their balconies. This pandemic has brought out the best and worst in the human race.

The past week has been one of the longest weeks of my life. My co-worker and I sweep through our office at the end of every day and Lysol every touchable surface. It has quickly become a kind of ritual. Spraying surfaces in my home has become the last thing I do before going to bed at night. I might change aisles at the grocery store if there are too many people on my chosen aisle. I abruptly turn away when someone coughs in my space. I do not feel panicked. Hyper-vigilance is my natural state of being, and now everyone else knows what it feels like to live here. Welcome to my realm.

I'm documenting this moment because we are only just beginning. This event is being described as the current generation's September 11th moment. It's a period of time that will forever impact the way we live and think. I just hope that it makes us better people in the end.

Thanksgiving

The sun is setting on another Thanksgiving. I'm sitting on a comfy green chair in my in-laws living room, watching light illuminate the Spanish moss in the trees outside. My long-legged ten-year-old is perched on the back of the chair, reading over my shoulder and chattering like a magpie. Her dirty feet are folded together on the arm rest. We can clean her up for the day, but there is always a visible indication that Ava loves making messes. I'm grateful for her companionship. This past year has been difficult, and my youngest child has been keeping me sane. My older children are now twelve and fifteen, and they are every inch moody teenagers. I hear Ava say, "Mooooom, come here" so very many times throughout the day, but I'm holding onto every precious moment that my kid still wants me around. I don't mean to imply that everything is perfect in Ava's world; she screams at Emily more often than not and is always and forever borrowing my phone to play with Snapchat filters. I will also feel much better about life in general when we get a grip on her math facts.

David has struggled enormously with school this year, and I don't know how to fix it. I can't fix it. That's the terrible thing about kids getting older and needing to learn from their own mistakes. I'm not at all sure how this year will shape out. My son was particularly grumpy yesterday because I made him go for a walk with me. The more he grumbled and glared, the more irrational I felt. He was making me pay for forcing his company, and I was prepared to return the miserable favor. Then something cool happened. A very lonely looking kid showed up at the park. David cheerfully waltzed over and asked the kid's name. From that moment, the kid followed David around the park, laughing and smiling. I was impressed that David took the time to initiate conversation with a stranger and make them feel at ease. It forced me to put aside my irritation and look at my son through a different lens. It is also worth noting that his mood drastically improved after stopping for lunch at Dairy Queen.

Emily is navigating the dark waters of middle school. She's excelling academically and seems to have a like-minded group of friends. I always vowed that my kids would never be allowed to disappear into their bedrooms and live on devices, but I very often find Emily stretched out on her bed with iPod and earbuds. Cut off from the real world. I go in and drag her back out to reality, but it's only a matter of time until I find her in the same place again. Rinse and repeat. Devices are now required to live in my bedroom after a certain point each evening. It's not as simple as removing the devices entirely. There are still ways to isolate oneself without the aid of electronics. I generally know that there is a lot going on in Emily's mind, but while she talks freely about everything else in the world, I don't get a lot of glimpses into the things that bother her. 

My grandfather recently told me that kids are like soap. If you hold on too loosely, they will slip out of your grip. If you hold on too tightly, they will pop out of your grip. I'm trying to hold on with the right amount of grip, but only time will tell if I'm getting it right. Or wrong. Maybe I'll just get lucky and somehow come through on the other side.

Work has been challenging. There have been numerous struggles that are not worth elaborating on. I'm signed up to take my fourth CPCU examination in about three weeks, and I'm woefully under prepared. I fully expect to fail this test, and I'm not even sure how soon I will attempt a retest. I need a break. There is rarely a week-day evening or weekend that is not taken up with obligations, and it has made attempts at higher learning more difficult than anticipated. I have always had some kind of solace. When work was crazy, I could escape at home. When home was crazy, I could escape at work. There is no escape now, especially since we are in the middle of remodeling our house. As soon as I finished typing that last sentence, I was reminded of Philippians 4:11 which states, "...I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances." Oh, how I wish that I was better at being content in my present circumstances. I'm not blind to the vast blessings that I have received. I am quite aware that I am rich when others are poor. I'm full when others are hungry. I have good health when others have been plagued by illness. I do not make a habit of feeling sorry for myself, but that does not change that I am hoping for a better state of mind in the year 2020.

So to close out this long holiday ramble, I will simply state that I am grateful for friends and family far and wide.

"Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

This is Life

I have to make an appearance here every so often, just so the old blog knows I'm still alive and kicking. I had an opportunity to consider life and love at various stages while standing in line at Hobby Lobby this afternoon. An older man and his daughter were behind me in line, and the daughter was telling her Dad about the store. The duo laughed over the amount of time that a person could spend browsing various aisles. Then the man remarked, "Your mother would have loved a store like this..." I laughed and said, "It's pretty easy to do some damage in here." The man touched me on the shoulder and asked, "You know who could do some shopping?" He gestured toward a large picture frame in his daughter's hand. "This woman right here." I stared at a beautifully framed photo of a distinguished looking lady. "She passed away on Sunday," the man continued. I offered my condolences and told him that the picture was beautiful. It was. The thing that struck me most, however, was the warm pride in the man's voice when he referred to his wife. I have heard the same almost tangible fondness when my grandfather refers to my grandmother. It's simultaneously heart breaking and uplifting. I walked out into the rain after my seemingly insignificant store encounter and felt as though I had been given a gift.

Love is a gift.

So This Is Christmas

"So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun…"

When I logged in to sum up life in the two years since I last graced this journal with my presence, I stumbled across an unfinished draft from my tenth anniversary. In that draft, I was reminiscing about how much had changed during our decade of marriage. From flip phones to smart phones, one kid to three kids... I did not finish my thoughts, and those musings have been sitting untouched for fifteen months. 

I feel like that alone sums up my current stage of life. It is Christmas Eve, and I'm not sure how we got here so fast. 

At the beginning of 2017, we introduced a tiny little fuzz ball to our already-crowded home. He has grown into 50 lbs of regal fluff, and I barely remember life without Shadow Long-nose McGowan. The day we brought Shadow home, snow began falling. Johnathan hopped a plane to Austin the following day, and I faced an interesting challenge: single parent life with snow on the ground, kids out of school, and a new puppy that was small enough to disappear in unfortunate places. 

On February 5th, the Falcons handed the Super Bowl to the Patriots. The last 3 minutes and 50 seconds of the game were excruciating. David and I yelled at the TV like crazy people while our neighbor fired shots into the night. 

On Saint Patrick's Day, my husband conspired with one of my oldest (and dearest) friends and shipped me to the mountains for a girl's weekend. We ate good food, hiked to waterfalls, and stupidly watched a suspenseful movie while listening to the wind howl outside our cabin in the woods.

In April, we added a large deck to the back of the house and discovered that Sunny will steal (and bury) the boiled eggs intended for our Easter hunt. 

At the end of May, we took a beautiful hike in the North Georgia mountains. We waded across a creek, saw a bear, found a crawfish at the top of a waterfall, named a turtle, and got covered in more ticks than I have seen in my entire life. I will never go hiking that late in the season ever again because I spent weeks after the hike anticipating some kind of tick borne illness. 

In June, Ava and Ethan stated that they received salvation through faith after the Friday night service at Vacation Bible School. They were baptized together on a Sunday morning shortly after VBS, just as David and Emily were baptized together a couple years ago. 

July was extremely eventful. Johnathan and David went to Scout Camp, so the girls and I tackled Independence Day celebrations without our boys. We attended the steam engine parade, watched fireworks, and went kayaking with my Mom and Daniel. While celebrating Ava's birthday on a balcony in Dahlonega, lightning struck the sidewalk just fifty feet from where we were sitting. Poor Ava dissolved in tears and wanted nothing more of her birthday dinner. At the end of the month, we made our annual pilgrimage to The Dillard House for church camp. After a long, sleepless weekend at camp and many hours in front of the computer for work, Johnathan saw a "ghost" make its way down the hallway in our house. 

School started back in August. I took a weekend trip to Savannah with Hannah (for her birthday), and on the 21st, we observed the total eclipse together as a family. We camped out in a parking lot in Hiawassee, eating a picnic lunch and melting in the heat. Minutes before the sun was completely obscured, the world looked like an underexposed photo and the temperature dropped noticeably. The moment of totality was inspiring, and I stared in awe at the unreal light of the corona. Unlike Johnathan, I had not been geeking out over the approach of the eclipse, but I got caught up in the wonder at the very end. 

Over Fall break, we trekked to Disney World. It was a long-awaited trip, and after earning rewards points for several years, we almost entirely paid for five days and four nights. The food was better than expected, and the overall experience was...well...magical. Disney has perfected their art, and I could not have asked for a better trip. I have decided, however, that my next trip to Disney World will be in the dead of winter. 80 degrees and 100% humidity is miserable. 

In October, I lost a friend to suicide and reevaluated a lot of things in life. It made me resolve to (try to) be a more compassionate, understanding, and giving person. As in all things, however, the moment you resolve to be a certain way, the more your resolve is tested.

November began the landslide of holiday events, and so I find myself sitting here. It's less than twelve hours until Christmas. What have I done?

Glossing over the highlights of this year is not an accurate reflection of the insanity that fills in the gaps between moments. Our life plays like a movie with the fast forward button held down. Monday nights are eaten up with Scouts, Gymnastics, and family dinners. Wednesdays are devoted to music at church. Ava has art classes on Thursday. On occasion, Johnathan has committee meetings and roundtable meetings on Tuesday and Thursday nights. In all of this chaos, I decided to pursue my CPCU designation. After passing the first exam with relative ease, I tackled the second self-motivated course during the busiest time of year. It was a learning experience. I will re-take my second exam in a couple months, and will try to be kinder to myself in future studies. My house is permanently in a state of disaster, and I am powerless to pick up the pieces. Problems shift from room to room, child to child, day to day. Never changing, but yet always evolving into something new to tackle. Some days I fall into bed and realize that I have barely spoken to my husband. I listen to my grandfather lament how busy people are these days. He recounts the days when time moved slower and people interacted with each other instead of staring at screens. I long to sit still, but when I do nothing, I feel idle and useless. I am perpetually trying to keep a wave on the sand, and it just doesn't work. 

This is a season. A season dotted with spelling bees, gymnastics competitions, band concerts, auditions, gingerbread houses, and movie nights. 

Earlier this year, I was listening to my favorite Rod Stewart songs and remembering my childhood. I turned to Johnathan and said, "How did I get so far removed from six year old me?" His response was, "One day at a time."

That is how we will move from this season into the next. One day at a time. 

To lighten the mood that I have created, I will share some of my favorite Ava-isms from 2017:

Ava: "I have a scratch on my knee. It looks like a smile, but doesn't have eyes..."
Ava (staring at a chipmunk in our yard): "Mom! I think I see a mouse!"

Let's go back

Earlier today I read an old post regarding my music listening and writing habits. I often listen to music without writing, but I very seldom write without listening to music. I have discovered, however, that I cannot listen to music with words while writing, and I generally prefer to listen to film scores. Just as film music helps move a story on the big screen, it often helps me tap into my own narrative. When blog posts have weeks or months stretching between them, I usually feel the need to provide an overview of life since last post. While it's important for me to document the ways that my children are growing and changing, my summaries leave little room for emotion. I never really get below the surface and convey what I'm feeling, and maybe that's why my writing seems to have gone stale.

Tonight I feel like walking with ghosts. Fall has always been a nostalgic time of year for me. It conjures memories of marching band, family hikes, and the childhood thrill of approaching holidays. When the leaves turn brilliant, the whole world seems to be memorializing its former summer glory. This October I have spent a great deal of time thinking of my grandmother. Perhaps it's because her 81st birthday would have been at the beginning of month, or perhaps it's because I miss being able to show her my photos. I know she would have loved seeing David and Emily's baptism. Perhaps I'm thinking of my grandmother because the evenings have turned chilly and I often find myself slipping into her old housecoat for additional warmth. There's a box of Celestial Seasonings Mandarin Orange Spice in my pantry, and each sip of tea is a memory of summers at my grandparent's house. Gifted figurines and trinket boxes that formerly garnered little thought have become treasures. Nothing is ever more important than spending time with loved ones and building moments that will one day become cherished memories.

I have been considering how I want to be remembered by my children and eventual grandchildren, realizing that future remembrances are taking shape each day. My grandmother was never idle, but yet she was never too busy to sit down and watch my lamentable theatrical productions. I'm trying very hard to find that delicate balance within my family, and I hope that my kids see good work ethic coexisting with a desire to spend quality time with them. I hope they see strong faith and admirable character. I hope they know that they are loved with an all encompassing love that surpasses anything I can put into words.

My husband is shaking me out of my reverie with a ridiculous piece that is part of his Music History listening exam tomorrow, and Pandora is helping the shift by switching to a happy little ditty from "Up." My teacup is empty, my fat cat is giving me the "can we go to bed now" glare, and morning will come earlier than I want it to. Goodnight, world.

Week in review

The kids had fall break this past week, and I requested time off from work as soon as I saw the blocks on the school calendar. This stretch has been something I have looked forward to for months, and I can't believe that my long-awaited vacation is over.

We kicked off the break with a whirlwind trip to Gatlinburg and spent the rest of our time cleaning, relaxing, and having mini adventures near home. My house is incredibly clean, and I have lofty aspirations of keeping it this way for forever (har har). 

On Monday, I caught up with Erin and Abby while the kids crafted at Granmere's house. 

Tuesday was laundry day, and I spent a considerable amount of time staring out at the rain in an attempt to ignore incessant Minecraft videos. Side note: My kids are obsessed with Minecraft. 

The rain let up on Wednesday so we took a brief trip to the Atlanta Botanical Gardens Gainesville. In the afternoon, I did some touch-up painting around the house, and Emily painted her great great grandfather's table almost entirely on her own. A visit from Kristin rounded out our evening. 

I hosted a Premier Jewelry party on Thursday and the bulk of the day was devoted to sweeping, mopping, scrubbing, and scolding. We took a Monopoly (National Parks Edition) break during the afternoon before preparing food and drinks for our guests.

On Friday we braved the rain and visited a dear friend in Suches who will celebrated her ninetieth birthday in a few days. 

Saturday has been lazy and dry for the kids and me, but poor Johnathan has spent the morning getting drenched at Loop-a-rama in Dahlonega. There is 10 bean soup with sausage cooking on the stove, and I plan to spend the rest of the day avoiding the wet weather and cooking comfort food.