Monthly Archives: February 2011

Turning Back Time: Home

28 Monday Feb 2011

Posted by in writing

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I have heard many times how Dad and his brothers would wake up on wintry mornings with snow drifting through the window cracks, landing on their beds. I think Dad has even sneaked this story into a sermon or two. However, it was only about a year ago that I realized Dad grew up without indoor plumbing. He was in his teens before their house had a real bathroom with real plumbing. My father grew up in an old house in a small town in the 40’s and 50’s, and this was how life was.

The house that I grew up in was quite different. It was about twenty years later when Dad moved his family into a brand, new parsonage. It was a beautiful, four bedroom ranch house with a full basement. Perfect for the four kids!

As a child, this house was home, from the cork-covered desk my sister and I shared in the basement to the kitchen with green carpet — Mom loved the kitchen, hated the carpet — to the plum trees and sandbox in the backyard.

Home was home, and I loved it.

When I was twelve, we moved to a different town into an older house.

Oh, this house was awful! My bedroom had faded pink paint on the walls. Our basement was tiny and dark, and our backyard wasn’t really a backyard. It was just a grassy area between the church and the parsonage…not much of a backyard at all. No plum trees grew there.

In time, with love and care and new wallpaper, our new house became our home.

As I became a teen in this home, I began to realize that “home” was not a house. My mom had started working part time. I was so happy on the days when I came home from school and she was there. I chatted her ears off while she made dinner. She would nod and agree with me and move about the kitchen as I talked and talked and talked.

At 5:55 p.m. every night, someone would call Dad at the office to tell him to come home for dinner. His commute from the church next door was two minutes. At 6:00 p.m., all six of us would sit down to eat dinner together.

Meetings, hospital calls, sermon writing — all was put aside for dinner.

Musical rehearsals, piano practicing, homework completion — all was put aside for dinner.

Now, before you get all sentimental about dinnertime, let me clue you in on some things that happened during dinner. There were tears and sulking when one didn’t get one’s way. There was a hand slapped down on the table in anger; a hand which consequently had a broken bone.

But around that dinner table was also laughter and joy and being together.

Home was home, and I loved it.

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Did you write a post about home? Please link up your post’s direct URL in the linky tool below. The linky will be open until the end of the day on Thursday. In your post, please include a link back to Lemon Drop Pie. Thank you!

Prompt for next week:

Here in the Midwest, we are eagerly anticipating Spring. What memories do you have about Spring? What does Spring mean to you?

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The First Step

27 Sunday Feb 2011

Posted by in breast cancer

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As I stepped out onto our porch, I took a deep breath. Ed was still in bed, and the girls were parked on the couch, watching Saturday morning television. I walked to the end of the driveway, boots crunching on the freshly fallen snow. I picked up our newspaper and took it into the house. Placing it by the coffeemaker where Ed would find it, I contemplated trying to find the camera. The snow was so pretty, but finding the camera was going to take too much effort. Instead, I stepped back out that front door and started walking. It was cold. Not bitterly cold, but cold enough.

Almost as soon as I put my earbuds in my ears and turned on my MP3 player, I took them out again. Snow was drifting out of the clouds, falling gently to the ground, and yet there were birds chirping and conversing with one another. I wanted to listen.

About half a mile later, I decided I would listen to my music. My playlist, titled “Random,” actually is fairly random. From “Layla” by Derek & the Dominoes to the Dixie Chicks, from Beck to Stone Temple Pilots, I walked and listened. One foot in front of the other, pushing myself forward.

The sleepy, snowy neighborhood was slowly waking up. One man was shoveling his driveway. A car rushed by. In a hurry on a Saturday morning? I spotted another walker behind me, a woman with a pink knit hat.

As I walked, I thought about the laundry that always has to be washed, dried and folded. I thought about rehanging the valences on Lily’s windows. I was having trouble with her curtain rods. And I thought about all the blog posts I was going to write in my head that would probably never be written down.

I’m about to do a lot of walking.

A couple of weeks ago, I signed up for the Avon 2-Day Breast Cancer Walk. I committed to walking about 39 miles in two days. I committed to raising $1,800 for breast cancer research and treatment.

You already know why. My life has been dramatically affected by breast cancer.

Every five years that I survive breast cancer, I have committed to walk and raise money. This is my third walk; this will be my fifteenth anniversary of survival.

This is, however, the first walk I will participate in without my mom’s support. And if I write any more, I’m going to start crying.

Mom, this walk is for you.

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Since I blog with the pseudonym of Ginny Marie, I’m choosing not to post my fund raising page. If you would like to make a donation and help me raise money for breast cancer, please email me at lemondroppie[at]gmail[dot]com, and I’ll send you more information. Thank you!