A la beginning

August 11th, 2010

So I found this journal entry (see below) on my computer this week, and it made me realize how unpredictable life is, the funny places it takes us and the different selves that grow out of time and experience, mustering up the self that we become in the present.  A couple years ago I found myself living at home, in HangoverHanover, feeling like a wiener living with the rents, over-educated but unemployed.  Feeling a bit directionless, purposeless.  This was pre-DeeDee's Cafe, Pre-Thunderbay, pre- making infomercials etc. (oh Dr. Ho), pre-MSW.  So as you can imagine, a lot in life has changed.  This little story from my past made me again realize the simple pleasures that exist when we live in the present.      

So…without further adieu, here is my very first entry! Yeah!

Nana and Me ("I")
September 18^th, 2008

Driving my Nana around on her daily errands is something of a phenomenon that happens between the hours of 9am sharp to promptly just before 11 am, a couple times a week.  Of course it all starts with the usual 7:30am sneak attack phone call advising me that she, my lovely almost 89 year old Nana (Ms. Ruth Peppler) stays fresher in the morning, specifically before eleven and would therefore like to leave the house soon please.  Me, of course, only half internalizing my predestined duties, grudgingly sleep walk back to bed, will remain comatose for what only seems like minutes to spare before her second call, gently reminding me of her date with Bob Barker which begins at 11:00am.  Wishing that this morning was not my life, I quickly splash cold water on my face and race out the door to rescue my beautiful orange haired Nana from loneliness and a shortage of printed paper towels, kitty litter and orange marmalade jam.

Today, of all days is abnormally hot and muggy for mid September and we are parked in her oven roasted 88 Old’s Mobile at our final destination.  Eying the clock.  We are early.  We are always early.  And this morning we are exceptionally early and I have already burned myself on my belt buckle twice.  So here we are, parked close for easy access, and I am coxed to check the doors I know are locked.  And it is only because I love her that I take the 4 steps needed to check the locked front doors of the local liquor store.  It is her curiosity that I pacify only for this brief moment, as it is not so much the alcohol she needs as much as a trip downtown with her (ahem, favourite) granddaughter and a brief moment of excitement.

Never the less, I find myself jiggling the locked doors glancing her way, only to see her small head pressed tightly up against the glass, her eyes following my every move, back and forth, back and forth.  Walking back I think to myself that this moment could actually be the most exciting moment of the day, so I  fake right, turn back and try one more time for good measure, this time of course with added theatrics. Pulling the handle towards me, the bolt through the door rings as it hits the steel frame and I turn towards her eager face, which is still pressed against the window, full of optimism.

Feeling the burden of this simple miracle I cannot accomplish on my own, I imagine myself as a Moses or a David, attempting to part the sees or throw the stone to overcome this task.  I imagine I have the strength of a Hercules and I begin to picture myself smashing through the glass like a gladiator and unlocking the door, helping Nana inside.  And as I press my own sweaty brow against the glass door, my eyes refocus themselves through the glass and reality tells me that I am not a Moses and that the clerk inside staring back at me may or may not be debating whether or not to call security.  So, I peel myself off the glass and feel not only the blood rush back into my brain, but the weight of responsibility to entertain my precious Nana who sits perched ever so patiently in the car.  


Opening the oven car door I sigh.  She is wise and reads my body language like morose code, and I know with ease she breaths in another deep breadth of patience from a reservoir I know is full and abiding.  She looks at me as if to say “well done soldier” watching me sink into the hot velvet seat beside her.  My mind wanders.  I begin to imagine that Nana is also wading through her thoughts and memories.  And it is in this kind of stillness we sit, her and I together and I am reminded that she too has spent many hours of her life waiting.  Waiting for phone calls, test results, for a husband to return, for children to heal, birthdays to come and go.  It is through all those moments of waiting where she has learned the value of patience, and maybe more importantly trusting in God, that he will provide, that there is a plan, a purpose, that she is not alone.  And today, of all hot and sticky days, although she must wait one more time, she knows that she will conquer this moment too because she has survived them all before. 

And as we watch the turning of the numbers on her digital car clock, making the long and perilous journey from the numbers zero nine, five, nine, to one, zero, zero, zero, we cheer because our wait is over.  I'm suddenly aware that these moments I often turn down, or overlook are so precious and beautiful.  This thought is sobering and I am now awakened by this sad little thought that I have been blinded by my own self interests so many times before which have kept me from seeing moments of peace and heaven God has given me.  Moments like these she has invited me into, but cherished alone.  I feel blessed today to sit in her presence, in this stuffy little car sharing this moment of waiting, because this particular moment we will wait together.    

Hobbling into her last shopping destination, she knows exactly what she wants and hands me the goods as she makes her way down the aisle.  Finishing her transaction with a breathless goodbye to a clerk who knows her by name.  She knows she has done well, lasting the morning on toast with marmalade and time with her granddaughter.

Settling her into her house after our morning to do’s, I lean down to wear she sits, gently hugging her frail little body.  I realize that Nana, who often gets overlook has truly given me a wake up call.  This morning has made me realize that regardless of where I am, or what I’m doing or not doing, life has already begun for me and I realize that it is full and that God is good.  Noticing she has magically slipped a twoonie into my hands, this silent and mutual exchange of thanksgiving ensures me that I know I am right where I am meant to be. 

May this blog be of one that helps me, and maybe even others, live in the moment, take in the now and have faith in the truth that surrounds us.