It's a Refreshing May Hodgepodge

 

I am joining up with Joyce at From This Side of the Pond and all of our friends for the Wednesday Hodgepodge. I apologize for two posts today -- The April A to Z Challenge is coming to a close. I'm going to make it through Z (tomorrow). Yay!

1. Are you feeling more reset, restart, or full speed ahead as we move into May? Tell us why. 

I took my second final on Monday night and I have about four weeks before summer semester begins. I guess that means I am in "reset" mode . . .or maybe another option would be "refresh" mode. I know that wasn't an option, but it would fit, right?

2. Painting, sculpture, architecture, literature, cinema, theatre, music...what's your favorite form of art? Elaborate.  

I think my favorite is theatre, but I do love architecture! I also love to read, but I'm not sure the books I read are classified as art haha!

3. What time is dinner at your house? How do you feel about leftovers? 

We normally eat dinner around 6:00 or maybe 6:30. Neither of us likes to eat and then go to bed a short time after so we've never been the kind of folks who eat dinner at 8:00 p.m. We eat leftovers all of the time, but I have a strict limit on how many days something can hang out in the fridge and still be edible. Mark, on the other hand, will eat thing FAR longer than I will. Nope. Not happening.

4.What's the last thing you fell down a rabbit hole investigating? 

Trips, maybe? You start looking at one trip and then you realize the dates don't work . . .so you find another. . .and it goes on and on. 

5. And now for a question from the book Marilyn (Memphis Bridges) gave me...

At what are you 'self-taught?' 

I have no idea. Others taught me the basics of cooking, but I did work hard on my own. I guess I am self-taught in the area of preparing large quantities of food - cooking for 15-20 people every week has honed that skill. What else do I know how to do . . . .Many years ago, I participated in smocking classes and sewing classes. I've even taken a photography class (long ago) so I'm not self-taught in any of those skills.

6. Insert your own random thought here. 

I need to clean out my pantry! My pantry isn't large but I've been thinking about painting the walls and shelves a dark and moody color - like dark blue?? I don't have anything else in that color scheme, but just wanted to do something totally crazy. Do any of you have cool pantries that you've painted a fun color? If so, please share with me! Let's be honest, I will be doing good to just get it cleaned out.

Y Is for Yesterday's Memories

Today is the next-to-the-last day of April A to Z Blogging Challenge. I'm going to be honest. I didn't know if I could pull it off this year. I'm glad I tried!

During the month of April, I've been sharing about the things that make my life better - some things have been small, like a Diet Pepsi. Some things have included people. Let me just say that a variety of things makes my life better!

Yesterday’s memories don’t always come clearly.

Sometimes they’re soft around the edges—more feeling than detail. Glimpses instead of full scenes. A laugh I can almost hear. A room I can almost picture. Moments that feel familiar, even if I can’t quite hold onto them.

I find myself drifting back there every now and then.

Back to when my mom was alive—the first fifteen years of my life. Those memories feel the most hazy, like looking through an old window that’s been gently fogged over time. I wish I could recall more, hold onto them more tightly. I can't remember her voice. I wonder if I sound like her? But even in their softness, there’s something steady there. A sense of being loved. Of being cared for. Of something foundational that shaped me, even if I can’t name every detail.

Our mom holding me - my oldest sister in the back right-
she died a little over a year ago
Becky is in the front right

my momma was pretty!

Back to when my dad was alive—those first twenty-five years. His voice is clearer. His advice, steady and consistent…even when I didn’t want to hear it. Even when I didn’t agree.

Especially then. My sister and I say quite often, "I wish I could talk to daddy about that."

We loved to swing - my daddy and me

This is the sandbox my
daddy built for me - it
was amazing!

It’s funny how time has a way of reshaping those moments. Things I once pushed back against now feel like gifts. Words I didn’t fully appreciate then have settled into something deeper—something I carry with me, often without even realizing it.

And then there are the memories of growing up in our neighborhood.

Hours and hours spent with neighborhood kids - at one time there were 17 kids on our street (and just around the corner). We were riding bikes, playing kickball, playing softball, singing in the swing, playing Barbies and staying outside or at the neighbor's house until we were called home for dinner. No schedules. No screens - except the ones on our windows! Just the freedom of playing and the simplicity of those days.

just the girls in our neighborhood

Those memories feel lighter somehow. Easier to step into. Full of laughter and movement and a special kind of joy.

Not every memory is easy.

There are sorrows tucked in there too. Losses. Changes. Moments that shaped me in ways I didn’t ask for.

But when I allow myself to step back—really step back—and look at it all together, I see something I might miss otherwise.

I see how every piece mattered. Yesterday's memories make a gorgeous multi-colored quilt.

The people. The conversations. The love. The disagreements. The laughter. The loss.

All of it.

All of the memories.

The colorful pieces and crazy shapes are woven together into the person I am today.

Taking time to remember doesn’t pull me backward—it grounds me.

It reminds me where I’ve been. Who has loved me. What has formed me.

And on the days when life feels a little too full or a little too heavy, that kind of remembering has a way of making everything just a little bit better.

So today, I’ll linger there for a moment.

Not to stay—but to remember.

Because yesterday, in all its imperfect, beautiful pieces…

is still a gift.

What are some of your favorite memories - especially from your childhood?

X Is for eXtra Grace!

 

X is the 24th letter of our alphabet . . . 

after today, there are only two more . . .

Y and Z

But for now, X is for eXtra Grace.

At work, I hear this phrase a lot: “Err on the side of grace.” If my boss, the senior pastor, has said it to me once . . .he has said it 1,000 times. I've told y'all about that phrase many times.

It’s definitely good advice. It’s the kind of advice that sounds simple…until you actually try to live it out.

Because if I’m being honest, I really love the idea of extra grace—for me.

I love it when someone assumes the best about my intentions. When they give me the benefit of the doubt. When they overlook my mistakes, my forgetfulness, my less-than-best moments, and choose kindness anyway.

Extra grace feels like a deep breath. Like room to be human.

But extending that same extra grace to others?

That can be harder than I want it to be.

Sometimes it’s hard because I’m tired. Sometimes it’s because I only see the surface of someone’s behavior, not the story behind it. Sometimes it’s because I’ve already decided what I think—and grace requires me to loosen my grip on being right. And let's face it. I like to be right! I'm a number one on the enneagram!

If I’m really honest, it’s because grace often feels unfair.

Why should they get a pass? Why should I overlook that? 

But “err on the side of grace” doesn’t mean pretending things don’t matter. It doesn’t mean ignoring hurt or avoiding truth.

It means choosing a posture.

It means deciding, ahead of time, that I will lean toward kindness instead of criticism (this is also VERY difficult for me). Toward curiosity instead of assumption. Toward patience instead of frustration.

It means remembering that I rarely know the full story.

So what does extra grace look like in real life?

It looks like pausing before I respond—especially when I feel irritated.

It looks like asking a question instead of making an assumption (why, oh why . . . can't I remember to pause and breathe and ask a question before I start making assumptions).

It looks like giving someone a second chance without making them earn it first.

It looks like softening my tone, even when I have something hard to say.

It looks like remembering a time when I needed grace—and letting that memory shape how I show up for someone else.

And sometimes, it looks like extending that same grace inward.

Because I can be my own harshest critic. Back to the Enneagram . . .a 1 on the Enneagram is a perfectionist and she has a constant voice in her head that criticizes everything she does . . .I'm using she instead of me/my/I . . .because it is ridiculous!

I can replay conversations, second-guess decisions, and hold myself to a standard I would never expect anyone else to meet.

Extra grace for others matters.

But extra grace for myself?

That matters too.

Maybe that’s where it starts.

Because when I remember what it feels like to receive grace—real, undeserved, generous grace—it becomes just a little bit easier to pass it along.

So today, I’ll try again.

I’ll err on the side of grace.

I’ll add a little extra where I can.

And I’ll trust that even when it feels small, grace has a way of making life better—for everyone it touches.

What about you? Do you extend grace freely? to others? to yourself?

W Is for "Waiting Conversations"

We are closing in on the finale of the April A to Z Blog Challenge. All month I've been writing about "things that make life better."

Today is W for "Waiting Conversations" . . .and then we only have X, Y, and Z!! (of course, those three letters are some of the hardest to write!)

I’ve come to notice something about conversations—the most meaningful ones don’t always happen in the middle of the noise.

They happen in the waiting.

At the end of a gathering, when everyone else has headed out the door and someone lingers just a little longer.

In the quiet pause after a question that wasn’t easy to ask.

In a hospital waiting room, where we are more vulnerable.

In the moments when you can tell someone has something on their heart, but they’re not quite ready to say it yet.

Those are what I’ve come to think of as "waiting conversations".

They don’t force their way in. They don’t compete for attention. They just…wait.

And if we’re paying attention—if we’re not rushing to the next thing—we get the privilege of being there when they finally unfold. My problem is that often I am rushing to the next thing, but I'm trying to be more aware.

I’ve had more of these conversations than I can count. A young adult hanging back after everyone else leaves. A friend who says, “Do you have a minute?” and you can hear in their voice that it’s not really a minute they need. A moment when someone starts with something small, but you can tell there’s more just beneath the surface.

These conversations aren’t efficient. They don’t fit neatly into a schedule. They often come at inconvenient times. They are often interruptions . . .but good can come from an interruption.

These conversations are holy in a way that rushed conversations can never be.

Because waiting conversations require something from both people.

They require courage from the one who speaks.

And they require patience from the one who stays. Patience is not always my virtue . . .so I'm still learning.

"Waiting conversations" remind me that not everything important can be hurried. Trust is often built in the pauses. Sometimes the best thing we can offer someone isn’t advice or answers—but simply our presence, our willingness to sit in the moment and not rush them through it.

In a world that moves fast and values quick responses, waiting conversations feel like a quiet rebellion.

They say: You matter enough for me to slow down.

They say: I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

And every single time, without fail, they make my life better.

Not because they’re easy—but because they’re real.

So maybe today, I’ll pay a little more attention to the moments in between. I’ll notice who lingers. I’ll resist the urge to hurry along.

I want to be the kind of person who is available for others . . .because so many people have made themselves available to me over the years.

Just in case you haven't realized it yet, some of the most meaningful conversations in life…

are the ones that are simply waiting to happen.

Has someone been there for you when you needed to have that conversation? Do you make yourselves available to others?

Sunday Stealing . . .Stolen from Maggie!

 

Welcome to Sunday Stealing. Here we will steal all types of questions from every corner of the blogosphere. Our promise to you is that we will work hard to find the most interesting and intelligent questions. Cheers to all of us thieves!

This week, we're stealing from Maggie, who claims she stole these questions from Takupon. Alas, neither of them blogs anymore.

I am answering these questions on Saturday afternoon! I have completed one final exam and made an 88.75 which makes me have an average of 92.65. 92 and above is an A. I plan to do the extra credit to make it a solid A. I need to be studying for the other final right now, but my brain is mush.

Five Things You Didn't Want to Know but I'm Telling You Anyway

1) Has anyone ever told you they would love you forever? 

When our children were little, I remember them telling me how much they loved me and they would always love me! Have you ever read the book, "Love You Forever"? Be prepared to cry. The question made me think of this book.

2) Who is the last person you were in the car with?

As I am typing this . . .I was just in the car with me, myself, and I! I went to pick up handmade fried pies from Mama Suz's Fried Pies in Pelham, AL. The wife and young adult son of an old friend of mine are the owners. We are taking an assortment of fried pies and ice cream to our supper club tonight. The problem is . . .I've already had a shower and I now smell like "fried." Oh well . . .I am not taking another shower. Mark will be riding with me soon. I will drive my car to supper club. He drives a big old pick up truck and my Lincoln Nautilus is so much easier to maneuver and park . . .plus I prefer to drive :-).

3) Do you have big plans for tomorrow (Monday)? On Monday, I will go to work and attend meetings for most of the day! Hopefully, I will take my second final after work on Monday . . . unless I study enough tomorrow afternoon to take it tomorrow night.

4) How long do you typically spend in the shower?

It depends on whether I'm fully awake or not. I usually hop in and wash my hair and rinse and then add cream rinse. After that I wash the body, rinse, and rinse my hair . . .and I'm done! Now . . .if I'm not awake . . .I might stand in the shower and try to wake up.

5) What were you doing at 7 AM yesterday (Saturday)?

Let's see . . . I folded clothes. I studied and studied some more. Around 10:45 a.m. I took my final. Then I rode my stationary bike, showered, and picked up fried pies.

Thank you for playing! Please come back next week.

V is for Visiting with Old Friends

 

This month, I’ve been writing about things that make life better—and this one? This one is extra special (maybe I should have saved it for X - eXtra special??).

Visits with old friends.

Last year, we got a phone call on a Friday. Completely out of the blue.

“Our route is taking us through Birmingham tomorrow… could we stop by?”

Of course, the answer was yes.

These aren’t just casual friends. These are the kind of friends who lived with us for several weeks back around 2006. They were in between houses, and instead of staying in a hotel, they stayed with us. We shared space, meals, conversations… life.

These days, they live in another city, another state. We don’t see each other often.

But here’s the beautiful thing about old friends like this:

You don’t have to catch up.
You don’t have to ease into conversation.
You just… pick up right where you left off.

And the laughter?

It comes quickly—and in abundance. We laugh more with these friends than with anyone else.

There’s something about shared history that makes everything easier. The stories, the memories, the inside jokes… they’re all still there, just waiting to be picked back up and enjoyed again.

We laugh with other friends, of course.

But with these friends? As I said above, we laugh more.

It’s the kind of laughter that fills a room. The kind that makes your cheeks hurt and your heart feel full.

Their visit wasn’t long. Just a stop along the way. We walked to a nearby restaurant and ate lunch together.

But it was enough.

Enough to remind me how important those deep, lasting friendships are. Enough to make the day brighter. Enough to make life better.

Because visits with old friends aren’t just about time spent together—

They’re about remembering who you’ve been, celebrating who you are, and being deeply grateful for the people who have walked alongside you through it all.

And now that I've thought about Jan and Hayden, I need to talk to Mark. We need to meet in the middle and spend some time together!!

I was the photographer.
We are always doing something
silly when we are with them!

We drove north and met them between our house and
theirs - maybe in 2018 or 2019?

Do you keep up with old friends?

U Is for Unexpected Free Time

 

At this point in my life—working full-time and carrying a full load of classes—free time is rare.

Not just rare… minuscule.

Every hour tends to have a purpose. Every day has a plan. There’s always something that needs to be done, or a textbook that must be read, or a paper that needs to be written, or a project that needs to be finished.

So when unexpected free time shows up?

It feels like a gift. It IS a gift.

Today, I had several hours completely to myself. No obligations. No immediate deadlines pressing in. Just… space.

And I didn’t waste it. On top of having a chance to catch my breath, it was a gorgeous day (I'm writing on April 10th).

I got a pedicure.
I went to the mall—an actual store, just wandering a little. I never go to the mall.
I wrote a bunch of blog posts to try to get ahead (future me will be so grateful).
I called my sister in the middle of the day, just because I could.
And I even stopped at the grocery store and bought something fun—a sumo citrus, which felt like a tiny celebration all on its own. (If you've never eaten one, run to the store right now. Seriously. They are "in season" fruit and they are delicious!)

None of it was extravagant (actually the Sumos are kind of extravagant - $).
None of it was life-changing (my feet would beg to differ).

But all of it together? It was life-giving.

There’s something about unexpected free time that feels different from scheduled rest. It’s lighter. Freer. A little bit like found treasure.

It reminds me that even in a full, busy season, there can still be pockets of joy tucked into the margins.

You just have to notice them… and take them when they come. I'm thrilled that I am writing about Unexpected Free Time on a day where I actually experienced free time!

Sometimes, a few unplanned hours can make your whole week better.

If you were given three hours unexpected free time today, what would you do?