Friday, April 23, 2010

Morning Commute

It was a peaceful morning. The world was still wet from a hard rain last night, and the sun was shining. I love days like this, particularly the sun shining part. I listened to the radio, sang along, and enjoyed the fact that no one was driving too slowly and no one was doing irritating, irresponsible things. I do not enjoy irresponsible drivers. I had made my way into town, and was stopped at a stoplight when I realized I wasn’t alone after all. He came out from under the hood of my car, and peered in the window at me before strolling along my windshield wiper blade to check out the scenery on the other side of the car. Apparently, I had transported a field mouse into town. He ducked back under the hood when the light turned green. When I stopped at another light, he popped back out. I tried to take his picture, but the lights kept turning green. Martin wasn’t all that shy, though. Yes, I called him Martin. Even a mouse needs a name. So, he went to work with me. I fully expect him to have exited the car and explored the parking lot, and surrounding areas. He’ll be a little surprised when he’s ready for bed tonight and can’t find his nest. Little does he know, he has transitioned from country mouse to city mouse. The moral of the story? Don’t hitchhike when you don’t know where you’re going.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

What Makes a House Into a Home?

Currently, I reside with my husband and some lady bugs in a 29 foot travel trailer. We moved into it in mid-September, thinking it would only be for a couple months while we finish construction. And then it rained, and it rained. About the time it was dry enough to work, it rained some more. It has rained A LOT in the last year. So, between weather, and the end of daylight savings time, and work schedules, construction hasn’t gone nearly as quickly as we’d planned. We’ve learned a valuable lesson. God is in control, we are not. Everybody knows that. Yet, we always try to control things anyway. I don’t think we’re alone in that.

Living in a travel trailer that has something else go wrong with it weekly, and being in that situation for 7 months gets old. Add pregnancy into the mix, and I think you can imagine the escalation. I’ve always said that home was wherever my husband was. And, by always, I mean for the last 2 years and 9 months. Well, I might have to alter my definition of home a little bit. Home is where my husband is…as long as it’s not that god-forsaken camper. We moved from an 1152 square foot apartment, into a 29 ft travel trailer, with the intentions of building a small building/apartment (of our own) to live in while we finish paying off student loans and then building a house. It would be small, but it would be ours, and it would be temporary. Let me tell you, 600 sq ft has never sounded so good.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

My New Love

When I think of bagels, I think of Panera Bread. Since I moved here for college, I have on multiple occasions been exposed to these beautiful treasures. They are a far cry from the plastic bags of bagels you buy at the grocery store. They come in all kinds of flavors, with all sorts of cream cheese spreads to top them off. My favorite of these scrumptious spreads has always been honey walnut. This morning, the CFO of our company brought a bunch of bagels from Panera. He does this occasionally, and I am always grateful. Being that I’m pregnant, I always welcome a snack, so I made my way to the break room and grabbed half a bagel. I looked at lids on the cream cheese spread to see what options I had…just in case I didn’t feel like honey walnut. And, there it was: hazelnut. They make hazelnut cream cheese spread?! That sounds absolutely wonderful. I should note that I adore anything hazelnut flavored. I seriously spent the first couple minutes holding my hazelnut slathered bagel just smelling it. It even SMELLED wonderful. And then, I sunk my teeth in. It was at that point that I saw little hearts fluttering around my face. I am in LOVE.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Goodbye, My Friend

Last week, I said goodbye to a dear friend of mine. Well, I wasn’t actually there, so I technically didn’t say goodbye.

His name was Tekoa Sur, (he was a registered Arabian horse) but the previous owners called him “Grey.” I didn’t think that was such a nice name, so I renamed him Gershwin. Although, I ended up calling him Grey most of the time anyway (especially when he was in trouble). This is probably the most sadness I’ve felt over an animal since I was a child. I sometimes get sad when a beloved pet dies, but I don’t cry, and I usually understand that it was just an animal. It doesn’t have a soul. This time, it’s different. We’d been through a lot together.

I was like a lot of little girls, and was absolutely enthralled with horses for as far back as I can remember. And, although I grew up on a very small ranch, our focus was cattle. We didn’t have enough space to need the help of a horse, and my dad never cared much for the creatures anyway. I, on the other hand, was in love with ever y horse I ever saw. So, I begged and pleaded for one. I wished on every star, every birthday candle, and any other occasion that called for wishing that I could have a horse. I prayed for a horse (although I always envisioned “wishes” as a prayer to God anyway). Finally, when I was 16, I bought a horse. My dad had a friend who made me a deal. I used my savings for a down payment, and made monthly payments. It took every bit of money I made, because my only job was as church pianist (and I refused to take much pay, because I was far from professional). I couldn’t care less about buying a car. I was finally getting that horse I had wanted since the day I was born, probably…I don’t actually recall the day I was born, but I’m sure it was soon thereafter.

He was a beautiful creature, albeit a little spirited and pretty stubborn. I loved to watch him run or graze in the pasture. When I would drive by him on my way down the driveway, I would stop and love on him. And, to ride him, took all my cares away. That horse could MOVE. When he got up to a full gallop, it was such a smooth ride. I could’ve sworn his feet never touched the ground. He was an amazing picture of God’s creation.

And, he was my friend. It was a time when I was drifting away from all of my friends (their lives were taking turns I refused to take), and the one good friend I had moved across the country. When I had boy troubles, I talked to the horse. When my grandpa (another very close friend) died, I talked to the horse. When my Dad’s health was deteriorating, I talked to the horse. He was there to rub his head against me, or carry me away from my worries.