I’m one day into this toxic fast, which I haven’t technically started. I have splitting headache, but my spirit is open and today I feel happy. That’s worth commenting on because honestly the last time I can say I felt happy was … I cannot remember.
Before I digress into that quagmire, I just want to write some nice stuff about my folks. If you’ve followed along here on the blog for any amount of time you’ve just coughed your tea all over the computer or fallen off your chair. But hey, miracles do happen (they actually do) not that I’m saying this is one. But I just feel like trying to remember a few things. So, …
I love the way my dad had a gut busting laugh. (What I wouldn’t give to hear it again.) When he was amused he just laughed from the belly. There weren’t too many people who could make him do that. My sister Holly and I could at times when we weren’t pissing him off. When Tom was on a roll, he sure did make dad laugh. And then there were TV shows from time to time.
I loved that my dad was consistent about his spiritual disciplines. Every morning for as long as I can remember, he got up early, made coffee and a fire, and read the Bible. I mean the actual word of God, not books about it. Every day. No matter what. And he kept a prayer list and tracked answers.
Both my parents struggled with insecurity and so they worked hard to fight it. They used make lists for the other person: What’s good about you. Strengths. It may sound hokey, but it really was kind of sweet and it seemed to help. They would try to do it to me sometimes, and I resisted, but I have to admit it feels good to read a list of ‘affirmations’ if want to call it that which someone else thought of and told you. Aren’t we all just a little hungry to know what others think of us? I feels damn good.
I love how my dad always said my mom was smarter than him. It was true, but it was nice to hear him say it.
I love how my mom is a walking encyclopedia. She does know a little about everything. And a lot about the Bible, natural health, history, politics, gardening, human resources, …
I love how my mom did her recovery work and hasn’t looked back. I’m not saying it’s easy for her. But let me tell you as a fellow addict, it isn’t a small thing.
I absolutely love my mom’s green thumb. I wish I had it. I seem to mess up plants, but I go over to my mom’s house and her plants actually look happy. It’s odd I know, but she has it. If plants can be happy, they are at her house.
I love that my parents were never in debt (after early mistakes in the early 70s), paid cash for cars, and planned for retirement. They were some of the most generous people I’ve ever known. They’ve given away everything from an actual house to enough money that the IRS would audit them regularly. I guess they couldn’t believe that people with a missionary income gave away so much.
I was just reflecting that I have relationships with people all over the world, many of whom I’ve been keeping up with most recently on Facebook. Oh, FB is strange and I could write pages on whether it is real, but I have all those relationships because of my parents and the influence they had on me.
I am a multi-cultural friendly open generous person, because of my parents.
If by now you’re in shock, cause Melody just wrote almost ten things she likes about her parents and childhood, and something good about herself, take a deep breathe and smile.
Cause that’s what I’m doing. Breathing and Smiling. God is good.