When Friends Show their Love

Just when I feel so down I could cry, I realize that I have dear friends who are supportive and generous. I mean real friends, not just friends on Facebook.

As my readers know, I have been dealing with chronic pain for the past year, and I spend much of my time these days focusing on how to rid myself of the pain, how to cure this ongoing issue. Physical therapy, chiropractic care, orthopedic massage, PRP injections and warm water exercises. At times I am not able to reach down and put on my shoes without excruciating pain. I get frustrated and angry that I can't easily do what I've always done for myself.

My two best friends, Mary Mike and Estelle, are always there for me. They listen when I need to vent and do their best to help me when I need something. Mike even offered to let me come and stay at her house where she could take care of me. Wow! And she has enough on her plate already.

Estelle Rice and Mary Mike Keller

Mike has dropped what she was doing to drive twenty-five miles to pick me up and take me home when I became ill and could not drive. I used to think only my sister would do that for me. 

Driving has been difficult for me, but not so much now. When I left to go to south Georgia a few months ago, Mike drove me half way to Atlanta where my sister, Gay, picked me up. Gay drove all the way through Atlanta like a champ. On Sunday, Gay drove us back through Atlanta but I suggested we called Mary Mike again. My friend, who had just got out of the bath and was in her pajamas, did not hesitate.

"Sure. I will get dressed and come meet you." 

Gay was exhausted. I knew she needed to get home. It had been a long hard week. I was happy she could go home to her husband. I was grateful that Mike could and would come and get me.

It is hard to have to ask others to sacrifice their time and energy for me.  I have always been a nurturer. I became a caregiver in January 1975 when Mother suffered a cerebral hemorrhage. That was when our roles reversed and I became the mother. For ten years I was on call 24/7. I would not have had it any other way. Caregivers usually feel the same.

I consider myself an independent woman who has never quit even when I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia in the early nineties. Some days I suffered with fatigue so intense I wanted to lie down on the floor and sleep. If there had been a sofa in my office, I would definitely have gone to sleep. However,I learned what I must do to keep going and doing. I might have been out of commission for a few days, but I bounced back and kept on "ticking."

When my husband had cancer, I stayed with him twenty-four hours a day for weeks while he was in the hospital. But I had the support of my sweet sister, Gay. She has never refused me anything I needed, if she could give it. I don't know what I would have done without her at that time.

Me with my sweet little sister

I always knew I had family who would go out of their way and be there for me when I needed them. I did not expect to have friends do the same. 

Recently a new friend, author Carroll Taylor, drove me to Writers Night Out. She  carried my tote bag as I was learning to walk with a cane, trying not to trip myself. At the meeting, Alan Cone and his delightful wife, Mary, sat beside me. Before they left, he wrote their phone number on a sticky note and stuck it on my book. "If you need someone to give you a ride, call us. We will be happy to pick you up and take you where you need to go." 

How generous and caring, I thought. I did not expect that, but I do believe he was sincere although he and Mary live in another town.

I stopped by my mailbox and saw that someone had planted flowers around the post. 
I had no idea who did that. I asked a woman who works for me if she had done it. She is a caring person. But she said no.

"I think your neighbors planted the flowers," she said.

"Really? Why do you think that?"

"I saw one of them watering something at the mailbox."

Have you ever been caught at the grocery store with no umbrella or raincoat and the rain is coming down in sheets? I shop in a mobile cart now and was sitting near the door waiting for the rain to stop. A woman with two children in tow was busy loading her car and finding movies for the kids. When she finished, she asked me,"Do you need some help?"
I answered, "I asked a bag boy to go and bring my car up. It is right there, not far, but he hasn't come back. I'll just wait until the rain stops."
"I can get your car for you - if you trust me to do it."
"You can't do that. You'll get soaked," I said.
"No. Here, give me your keys." She put a plastic grocery bag over her hair and ran to my car. In minutes she had driven it right up to the door, opened the back and she helped me load my groceries. 
I thanked her profusely, of course. She said she lived here part time and had her grand-kids for the weekend. Her name is Linda and I am still in awe of her generosity. Every day, it seems, I run into kind and caring people.

I am not surprised. 
My neighbors, Alice and Marsha, have always been exceptionally kind to me. Alice cooks and brings me dishes that she says are healthy for a diabetic. I admit, some are not to my taste, but I love her so much for  thinking of me. Her brownies made with beans are very good. She also gave me the wonderful Taco Soup that is so versatile I have shared it with friends and family. It is one of my favorite healthy foods. 

I am fortunate to have these dear friends. They are an important part of my life. Their kindness comes from their hearts. They don't feel obligated. Some people just have that giving spirit. They were evidently taught by parents who believed in helping your neighbor.

Other friends who help me are John Buckley, Gene Vickers and Keith Norton, who will accept pay for handyman work, but barely enough to cover his cost to drive to my house.

Gay said to me recently, "You have a wonderful support group here." I agree. I would hate to leave them. I'm not sure I would ever find such kindness and caring again. 

You probably have friends like mine who go out of their way to be there for you. I know that some of you are that kind of friend to others.

Until next time, be generous with your friendship and your caring and may you receive the same in return.

The end of a great weekend

My nephew Jon Beall and his son, Bryant, came to visit me on Saturday and right away asked, "What can I do for you while I'm here."

I quickly gave them a list: Take the rocking chairs on the deck to the garage. Take the Gazelle to the garage. Take this and take that. Now my deck is not cluttered and I can see my deck garden from my chair.

I made some lunch and then Jon wanted to know what else he could do for me. He has always been the most caring and kind person. He reminds me of Barry with his easy going nature and he never seems to get angry. His six-foot-three son, at seventeen, said very little but seemed willing to help. He removed the little twigs and leaves hanging on my gutter over my front door.

Before they put their boat in Lake Chatuge Saturday afternoon, they had cleaned out and organized my garage and taken two loads to the garbage transfer station. Now I can see what is in there and decide what I need to keep and what can go. Jon told me to sit and he brought boxes over for me to go through. What a huge relief! 

Jon and his sister, Paige, spent lots of time with Barry and me when they were little. We loved having them. I was Paige's first baby sitter when she was a tiny little thing. Often at Easter, they and their mother spent the day with my family on the farm. They hunted eggs with the kids on the front lawn.

Jon calls me fairly often and we keep in touch. He is married to a fine person and has a daughter, also. I am sharing one of the last photos made with Barry in 2008. Jon was almost named for Barry. His mother wanted to name him Jon Barry, but I objected. I wanted to name my first son after Barry. How silly and young I was then. 

Barry, sitting, Jon behind him with arm around Bryant.

I am touched deep in my heart by the kindness of Jon and Bryant. I just wish I could have made the fish bite for them. 

Everybody Needs a Good Friend

Here it is Sunday again.
The weekend passed so quickly I hardly knew it. One of the best parts of this weekend was a visit with a former student of mine who is now one of my dearest friends. We both agreed we could have talked for many more hours if we had the time even though we don't see each other often.

Those are the friends we cling to in our lives and if we are lucky we never let them go. In my youth, I did not make the effort to hold on to friends, even those I thought about often, and I have some regrets about that. I can't change the past, but I do make a big effort to keep in touch with people I meet now, people who hit a note with me that resonates even when they are not near.

When we are bombarded with all the "bad news" of the world, and we might think that everyone is an enemy, if we are open to meeting others and listening to them, we see a different world. As my friend, Rebecca, and I discussed on Saturday, sometimes people are suspicious of generosity from others. They are skeptical of someone who is kind or giving. They wonder, "What does she want from me?"

I have experienced that reaction from writers when I reached out to them to help them promote their books or write an article about them. I've met some types who were so suspicious they refused my offer. As my personality type is one who doesn't get angry but feels pity for those people, I immediately wonder why they think that way. Could it be that their self-esteem is low and they can't imagine anyone wanting to do something for them without some payback?

Most writers I meet have many of the same issues with themselves as I do. We beat up on ourselves because we are not disciplined enough to write everyday. We don't submit our work. We never think it is ready to send out. We say we don't have time for our passion but will spend our time cleaning house, doing laundry and all the things we hate to do, while avoiding putting ourselves in a chair and picking up a pen or hitting the keyboard. 

We are not bad, lazy, or worthless people, and we need community with other writers to help us see that we all have similar problems. We have our needs that might not be exactly like those of others, but it helps to vent with fellow writers. 

So many of my good friends are students who took my classes in the past 8 years. In my classes we write about ourselves, share our stories and bond in a lasting way. Sometimes we cry or laugh out loud, but that is okay, too.  

Many of my friends are women I met when I took my first writing classes. For twenty years I have shared my sadness, my happiness, my successes and my failures with my fellow writers in my literary community. Some of my friends I've met through affiliation with North Carolina Writers' Network West. They don't live close to me, but we keep in touch. 

One of the highlights of this weekend was hearing the voice of a former student of mine, Staci Bell, as she called to tell me a poem and a flash fiction piece she has been wanting to place were both accepted for publication. One is for an anthology about wolves.

I am as happy for her as I would be if it were my writing that had been accepted. I know that feeling when a stranger reads your work and really likes it. When they like it well enough to publish it in a book or magazine to be read by many people, it feels like seeing your name up on a marquee on Broadway, especially when you have not had that before. 

Friends come in many ways and at any time. You never know how a person can influence your life, can help you through hard times, will need your help one day, and how much you can come to love them. Be generous to others, and they will surprise you with their own caring. 

My friends give to others in whatever way they can. 
My neighbor cooks once a week for a free noonday meal for those who need fellowship and nutrition for their bodies. Another friend, in her eighties, says cooking for others is her ministry. (To minister: to give service, care or aid; attend, as to wants or necessities.)

Maybe we can all ask ourselves what is our ministry to others? We don't have to go to church or have a calling from God to minister. 

I saw a little boy on Sunday Morning who lost his mother recently. He gives out tiny little toys to people on the street to see them smile. He just wants to make people smile and not be sad. We never know when the smallest thing can make a difference.(This story reminds me of the Little Drummer Boy)

My friends and other kind people give me hope that this world is much better than the TV news would have us believe. 
What do you think? Is human kind as bad as what is seen on television?  Do you think our parents thought the world was in deep trouble and feared for their children's future?

Where is the Love?

I am not a fan of television evangelists usually  but tonight while I was working on something Joel Osteen came on  my screen. I have heard some church-going Christians scoff and call him "the feel-good preacher." The times I've listened to him, I enjoyed his inspirational sermons that left me feeling uplifted instead of down on myself, accusing myself of being a bad, sinful person as the preachers of my youth often made me feel.

Tonight his subject was love for those who are different from us. He asks that we not judge people by their appearances or the mistakes they have made. He says we should love everybody. He said that Jesus made it simple. "Don't judge and you won't be judged."

I perked up when I heard his talk tonight. He was speaking my mind, my thoughts, about how our culture today has become so judgmental. If you are on Facebook and read the comments there, you know how mean-spirited people are. If you don 't believe as they do, they post hate-filled comments. Some people I know have had death threats against them because they voiced their political beliefs.

It is easy to judge people but it is not so easy to love those who are different, the poor, the unfortunate and often sick people who are homeless, those who are not like us, have different ways to worship or who do not worship our God. I found it amazing that this preacher tonight said that his God loves every person no matter whether they are Christian or Muslim. 

It seems to me that the very people who should love the poor, help the poor, and want to do what is right, are often the ones who want Medicaid cut, are against the idea of equal insurance for all, don't want their tax money to go toward helping people who are down on their luck or who have lost jobs and can't keep a roof over the heads of their children. In our  local newspaper there is a  page devoted to churches. We probably have more different churches in our little county than any other in North Carolina. The  opinion of most who write on that page each week speak more of hatred and judgement than they do of love. 

I come from a family that worked hard on a farm in south Georgia. Empathy for those who struggled in this life was instilled in us by our parents. Mother gave food to hobos who got off the freight trains near the house my family lived in during the depression, yet my father had no job and their little store and filling station went broke. That was before I was born, but I grew up hearing those stories and I have never forgotten the lessons they taught me. No matter how little we have, we can always find something to share with others. 

I  like the quote, "Let your life be a lesson to others." That was how my mother lived. When my father had more vegetables in his garden than we could eat, she took them to her relatives and friends. When someone helped at our house, she went home with a couple of  bags of something she could use for her family as well as her cash payment. I have no idea of how much my mother sent to charities through the mail even though she never had money to spend on herself. My father was always fair with his workers, paying the most he could for their work. 

It was only after my family became more financially secure that I saw some members change their attitude. Isn't that strange? The poor want to help the poor, but the wealthy who have security and have enough money become stingy and hoard their wealth. I hear these affluent people expound on the laziness of those who are poor and declare they think the government should stop all aid to indigent people. "I don't want my tax money going to those deadbeats."

Sadly we have what  is called " the working poor" and many of them just can't get ahead no matter how hard they try. I know good  people who work hard and still barely get by. Some become ill and need assistance. One woman has fought cancer for a number of years with  surgery after surgery but she still works as much as she can. Her husband is disabled and she is the sole bread winner in that family. Without some government assistance they would be homeless. But there are people who would say, "just let them die." My friend told me today that a member of  her church said those words when they were out for dinner one day. Those are the Christians that Joel Osteen was speaking to tonight on his program; those who go to church every time the doors are open,  but have no love in their heart for anyone but themselves. 

Recently I was touched when  a single mother who makes minimum wage at best told me she tries to help some of the charities that send her requests. "I tell them I can't send but a couple of dollars, and I hope it helps." 

My other concern is that churches are constantly taking in donations to send overseas - mission work - but often their members don't want to help people in their own state or community. Maybe it is easier to send money than to look around and see those who are right in front of you.

"There but for the grace of God go I." Could it be that we don't want to think about  that? Is that why we write a check to a faceless entity to ease our conscious?

After hurricane Katrina decimated an entire city and thousands of  people, I heard condemnation of those who lost their homes and everything they had. How on earth could those people be blamed for what happened? 

I have never been more proud than I was of my sister, Gay, who took one family under her wing and helped turn around their lives. The family of five took refuge in Atlanta and ended up at Gay's church which gave them some assistance. My loving, non-judgmental sister, spent weeks helping this family find an apartment, get furniture for it and did what she could to counsel the distraught mother of three children who were now homeless. 

My sister didn't think, "Oh well, I'm just one person.  I can't do much."
Read my interview with that Katrina survivor here.

Something for my Gratitude Journal

Tonight I am grateful and must show my appreciation for a man who has worked all week around my house.  

This week the rain held off for a few days. My friend and handyman, John, had time to come and take care of all the things on my “to do” list. I told him he is worth his weight in gold. I can’t pay him what he is worth, however, but I know his bill will be reasonable. Since my husband passed away in 2009, John has been the person I turn to for help when I can’t do it myself. He is good at so many things, but I appreciate that he will clean my deck from top to bottom and take the time to find a non-toxic cleaner that won’t trigger my asthma.

He took my blower that I was about to toss because it won’t work anymore and tested it to find that only my battery needs replacing. Spiders had wrapped my house in their sparkling webs and had taken up residence in every crack or cranny. Tonight no spiders hide under the tall eaves of my deck. My outside lights come on now when anything moves in my yard. Thanks to John. My grill is cleaned from top to bottom and he gave me good advice for the future. Barry was the one who used the gas grill, but I plan to make use of it now.

One afternoon recently I stuck my hand into a wasp nest that was hidden under the railing of my steps. I called John who came, found the spray in the garage and took care of the wasps. Today he discovered a huge nest under the table on my upper deck. I am surprised I haven’t been stung, and thankful John wasn't stung. Besides his willingness to help me with such chores, John always has a smile on his face.

This is not what John does to make a living. He has a construction business. He laid the floors in my house and they are done beautifully. He added a room off my kitchen so I could move my washing machine and dryer upstairs when the stairs became too much of a chore for me. He is one of the most talented people I know. I can count on him when I have a problem. If he can’t fix it, he knows who to call. I love that John never says, “it can’t be done.” When I wanted a shower in my basement bathroom everyone I talked to said it couldn't be done. But when I talked to John he told me how it could be done, and now I have a shower in my downstairs bathroom.

I won’t give his name in this post because I haven’t asked his permission, but if anyone in the Hayesville NC area needs a hardworking man who can do almost anything, call me and I’ll put you in touch with John.