Tuesday, December 28, 2010

December 28

What a difference a year makes. Last December 28 Daddy left our house to fly back home. I didn't know it then, but he had visited us for the last time. Though hospitalized until December 22, he had roused his aging body and made the flight to Atlanta. I had picked him up, rented walker in hand, and he had come into our house to grace us with his peaceful presence.
He mainly sat in the recliner, napping when there was a lull in the festivities, but his rheumy eyes twinkled and his smile took part when his two-year-old greatgrandson Tyler held court in the den. Daddy later commented to my brother that one of the delights of Christmas had been Tyler because he was "so engaging."

Today, December 28 a year later, Daddy is gone. Right after he got home last December, he went back to the hospital for 5 weeks. His body began shutting down, and by the first of April I wondered if he'd make his ninetieth birthday May 2. But he rallied once more, and as all the family and many friends gathered on May 1, he laughed and enjoyed the accolades and anecdotes of his long, well-lived tenure on earth.
Just six weeks later, on June 14, Daddy flew home to his eternal home - the place of no sickness, no aging, no leaving, no sorrow. The place where he can fully enjoy the Christ of Christmas.

We missed Daddy this year, but life goes on. We started a new tradition of playing family jeopardy (Who knew David's favorite Christmas present as a child was roller skates?). We watched three-year-old Tyler's delighted expression as he tore open one of Santa's gifts and found inside, yes, roller skates. We laughed when he stared down at the four pads and said, "I didn't know I had so many elbows!" His candidness was totally engaging, and I smiled, remembering Daddy. He would have loved every moment.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Tail Lights and Blue Lights

David and I just experienced a typical Bazemore trip. That is, it was fraught with "Oh, brother" moments. (If you don't know what 'fraught' means or have never heard the word before, then maybe you're not old as dirt like I am.)

Back to the trek fraught with troubles. First of all, let it be said that if David had agreed to take Friday afternoon off so we could fly to Shelley's, then these things wouldn't have happened. That said, please understand that there is no root of bitterness in me about it. After all, if it were not for road trips, I'd have hardly anything to blog about.

So did you notice that I said it was a 'typical' Bazemore trip? Back in the day, we were famous for our mishap-laden family vacations. Like the one when Hillary came down with a 105-degree fever the day we got to Disney World, and then after a trip to the emergency room for a strep test and 24 hours of antibiotics, when she and I could join the family fun once more, it rained every day we were there until the day we were leaving when it was gorgeous weather and our van broke down and we had to spend several hours at a repair shop where they didn't really repair it so we had to stop and add water to the radiator every hour on the way home. Fun times!

Or the trip to Gatlinburg where I made reservations online and the place was a dump so we had to find another place but practically everything was full and it had snowed after we'd had three weeks of 75-degree weather at home so I didn't think about taking coats and we had to go to the outlet mall and buy everyone a coat and the van broke down (again) and David and I had a big fight.

Or the outing to Atlanta when Shelley had strep and we had to push her around in a wheelchair at Six Flags. Or the time Hillary got lost twice at Opryland (when it was an amusement park). Or the year we got to Panama City only to find our hotel had just had all the rooms' carpets cleaned and I was allergic to the smell so David went out to find an antihistamine for me but was rear-ended at a stoplight, causing the van to break down and David to have to go to the emergency room.

You know, after recalling those moments, last weekend doesn't seem so bad. No one got sick or hurt. Nobody got lost. The weather was beautiful, albeit COLD. David and I didn't fight. We don't have a van anymore. Ah, but the car...

We left right after David got off work on Friday evening. Since David was going to fly home early Monday morning, we took two cars as far as the Atlanta airport. He told me to go first and he'd follow. He noticed right away that my right tail light was out but wasn't too worried because the brake light and turn signal were working fine.

Well, no sooner had we crossed the Georgia state line than I saw flashing blue lights move around David and pull in behind me. I knew I wasn't speeding, but my heart picked up its pace anyway.I slowed my car and stopped on the shoulder, then watched in my rearview mirror as the police car came to a stop with David close behind him. I waited while cars flew by and wondered why the police weren't chasing them instead of bothering me. Finally, the officer stepped up to my passenger window. "Ma'am," he said, "Can you tell me who this gentleman is who's following you?" Ha! I felt relief. The police were doing their job, protecting innocent citizens, noticing the smallest of details - like a mysterious man pursuing a lone woman.

"Yes, he's my husband." I chuckled and explained.

"Well, he tells me he noticed your tail light was out. We usually just give warnings for this, but I'll have to see your license and go put the warning into the computer."

So much for chivalry, I thought. There must have been ten cars who had passed me going 85 or 90 since we'd left Opelika 25 miles back, but the police were going after the real menaces like me. Oh well, warning duly recorded, we were soon on our way. Only 7.5 more hours to go!

Traffic through Atlanta was crowded, of course, but moved amazingly quickly for a Bazemore trip. Soon the highway became smooth and dark, and I was lulled into catnaps and finally, sleep. Suddenly, a loud thump-bump-bump and serious jostle awoke me. "What happened?" I blurted, sitting upright.

"We hit a deer. I saw him way up on the right, but then my attention was drawn to the person coming up on our left, and the next thing I knew, we had hit the deer." I was amazed and relieved that the car was still trucking along and our headlights seemed to be working, but there was no more sleeping for me.

About an hour and a half later, at 3 Am Eastern Standard Time, we were almost there. Almost. In fact, we were right behind Shelley and Shawn's townhouse. With go-go-Gadget arms I could have touched their back door. Then the unbelievable happened. Though David had not gone a mile over the speed limit the whole way, we got stopped by the police, again!! My first thought was, "Oh, brother" and my second thought was "They've already got the warning on the computer, so this shouldn't take long." Our goal was in view. Bed and just a few hours sleep were tauntingly close.

"Sir, may I see your license and registration?" the nice officer asked. I searched frantically in the glove compartment while David pulled out his license. As the GPS, phone charger, Zaxby napkins, Wendy's napkins, Chick-Fil-A napkins, proof of insurance papers, etc. started falling into my hands, the policeman continued, "What brings you folks to North Carolina?"

I quit my searching and chimed in, pointing to the townhouse, "We're visiting our grandson for his birthday. They actually live right there."

Though I would have welcomed chit-chat about our wonderful grandson, the officer changed the subject abruptly. "What happened to the front of your car?"

A short conversation about the deer incident ensued, with the policeman checking out the damage to the car and seeming satisfied. "Well," he said, "We were looking for someone with front end damage who fled the scene of an accident, but it looks like you two just had some bad luck. Enjoy your stay in North Carolina!" And so we turned the corner, pulled into the parking spot, went in and went to bed. Oh, and enjoyed our stay in North Carolina - especially me, who got to stay until Wednesday.

Now, there's always a spiritual lesson, and I was pretty sure what the one in this event was, but I didn't like it, so I was hoping another would come to mind. Then, in my quiet time this morning, the same lesson emerged and I felt like God was saying, "Admit it, Joy," or, as I used to say to Hillary when she wanted to argue with me, "Give it up, honey. Just give it up."

So here. I'm giving it. The spiritual lesson:
I want to believe I'm following all the Christian rules and that it's really all those people doing the bad sins that God should stop, question and warn. So what if my tail light isn't working? My brake light and turn signal are working. What's more important than my car's rear lights is that all those people are speeding, for heaven's sakes!
- So what if I was unkind in the way I spoke to that store clerk? At least I didn't yell or talk about her behind her back. And besides, I was right.
- So what if I'm spending tons of money on gifts and the poor don't have enough to eat. It's Christmas. I have to buy gifts for my family, and friends, and coworkers. It's how I show I love them.
- So what if I don't call the people who weren't at Sunday School today. I'll think about calling them. I'll even pray for them.

Hey, God, what about the murderers? the adulterers? the thieves?