Come Heal With Me. Or Not. That's Ok.

"But even the hairs of your head are all numbered."   ... Matthew 10:30


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Tom and I were cute, young, but so clueless when we ministered each Saturday night at our (tiny) town's senior hospital wing. Back then, I wondered why the women's heads told them it was the 1950's rather than the 80's,  but oh Honey--I get it now.

Thinking backward feels so comforting, especially when you don't like what Life's dolling out to you now.

And after this latest tragedy in Las Vegas, it's like my sanity has encouraged me to take a couple backward journeys, myself. Oh, some Christians insist God heals us only in specific holy-holy-holy ways (piffle!), but long ago I lifted Him out of that box.

Why? He created us all uniquely and it only makes sense that He comforts us uniquely, as well.

Selah. (Or, pause and calmly think about that.)

Anyway, maybe you'd like to journey backward with me today. If so, here we go --- 


We moved here to New York state in 1993. Even that late, our local plaza still had this decades-old diner--

                                                          Illustration by Paul Lachacz


Oh, by this time the vinyl seats had holes and a sort of grey pallor hung over everything, but I'd always stare while quickly walking past to the variety store. I'd think, "Wow! It's like that place is the 1940's held and kept within glass. Tom, Naomi and I need to go there."

Of course, we waited too long. Just months later, Your Host closed forever (which may help you understand better why I was so upset with myself for not visiting that coffee shop nearby before it shut down).

You snooze, you lose. You procrastinate, you create regrets.

Anyway, don't you love that illustration? I discovered it at a Facebook group I belong to, one which chats about our former town, reliving the old days. In fact, I belong to a similar group from the place where I graduated and also met Tom. They keep me up-to-date while also reminding me about what I loved there.

Say what you will about Facebook, but I appreciate it. Much.


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Now, decades ago I'd have been too embarrassed to tell you this, but my Internet-found kindred spirits will understand and not label me wacko.

What is it? This morning while searching through local real estate online, I came upon another example of A Dream Kitchen For Debra --

Oh! Oh! Did you see the little refrigerator tucked into it's own cubby? And the old stove? And the retro table set?

(Insert a long happy sigh here.) This is my favorite type of house to discover at estate sales. Truly, I feel blessed to have walked through so many here in dear old Western New York where God brought me 24 years ago because He knew I'd love living where the Old Days are still so very Present.


❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

 

As for the rest of today? I will wrap myself in an apron, take laundry downstairs, then bring it up again where I'll hang it outside on a clothes rack.

I'll look through some vintage magazines. I'll dust, vacuum. Fill the bird feeder.

I'll think June Cleaver thoughts and maybe even scrub the bathtub. I'll sit on the front porch, drink hot chocolate, read and glance down the street at the gleaming blue river.

And I'll thank God for Autumn. For family. And most of all for Him through whom all blessings flow and flow and flow. Even in 2017.

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"For he knows how weak we are; he remembers we are only dust."   ... Psalm 103:14

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