Morning Musings

This morning I awoke at 6:00 a.m. in time to say good-bye to my hubby. It was wonderful, a beautiful morning so I took Oliver (the new puppy) out on the porch, had a little playtime with him and settled down with my Bible. I was feeling a little overwhelmed with my "to do" list, I think feeling a little cheated that I had so many "non fun" things to do on my day off work and feeling convicted of my ungratefulness at the same time. As I sat there trying to get into praise mode it hit me out of the blue how different I am from my mother. She was a work horse and I'm sure never got down with all the things she had to do; she seemed to love the grocery shopping (even going there to browse when she didn't really have anything she needed to buy), cooking meals for her family or anyone who dropped by or had a need and just piddling around doing "stuff" around the house. And it came to me how much different her childhood was than mine. Her mother gave birth to eleven children, only eight surviving childhood. Her mother was very sick and my mom pretty much raised the last two or three of her siblings. She told me one time that she had to cook meals for the family (on a wood cookstove, with no indoor plumbing) at such a young age that she had to push a chair to the stove so that she could reach the pots! And this wasn't just helping mommy in the kitchen, this was being in charge of feeding a large family. She had to drop out of school in the 8th grade and told me once that they were just starting to teach Algebra (this was in a one room schoolhouse) and she had really found that interesting and was disappointed not to continue with it. She never owned a doll until she was an adult and probably had little time to play. Contrast that with my childhood. I was the third child but raised almost like an only because my sisters were teenagers before I came along. I came at a time in my parent's life that they were finally financially comfortable, had purchased a home for the first time and they doted on me. My mom never gave me many chores to do because she said she wanted me to have a childhood (I am tearing up as I write this). When I got married I didn't have a clue how to shop or clean a house for that reason but I had a wonderful childhood! No wonder my mother loved doing the things she did--it was all she knew and it must have seemed like a vacation after the way she was raised. Supermarkets with large varieties of everything, automatic washers (although she never owned one until after I was married but always used a laundromat), electric vacuum cleaner, hot and cold running water and a car to take her anywhere she wanted to go. Suddenly, I have a different perspective on my life and how grateful I should be for the ease I have and the joy it should be to serve my family and make a comfortable place for them.

By the time I finished my Bible reading and prayer time, Popdaddy was stirring and I went in to have breakfast with him. What a joy that was. He was in a mood to travel down memory lane and I am going to take the opportunity to tell his story so that it is recorded. I told him of the trip we are planning in October to take Carl's kids camping on a lake near them. We started talking about swimming on the lake and how much the kids enjoy it. He started reminiscing about going swimming as a boy with his brother at a swimming hole in Lucasville. And then he told of living in Buena Vista, Ohio (about 20 miles from Portsmouth) on a bluff over the Ohio River. There was a houseboat tied up to the shore and he and his brother, Charles, loved to dive off the houseboat into the river. However, this was strictly forbidden by his mother and unfortunately for the boys she had a good view of the river from the house since it was situated on a bluff. And also unfortunately there were willow branches nearby which she used liberally when she caught her boys disobeying. Popdaddy said that, willow branches not withstanding, diving off that houseboat was just too much fun to resist. Then he told of a showboat that would come to that area every summer and was the highlight of the season to all the kids, although he didn't think they got to see very many shows as there was an admission price. He also told of getting a ride across the river one day on a boat with his brother by the postman making his run to pick up mail from the train. Somehow the postman forgot about them and they were left there all day until he came back for his afternoon run. Popdaddy said that he and his brother thought they were starving and raided a farmer's corn field and ate raw corn! He told me how the mail was picked up. A bag of mail was placed on a arm that extended over the track and as the train came by it dropped onto the train. The mail to be delivered to that town was tossed off the train and onto the platform.

What a different life my parents led! I am grateful that I had the opportunity to visit their farms as a child. I got a glimpse of how life was in "the olden days" by having to bathe in a metal tub, pump water from a pump in the yard, use an outhouse during the day and a chamber pot for those calls of nature in the middle of the night. But my favorite memory was having no toys to play with--that didn't seem to bother me at the farm. I can remember going outside and digging moss and pretending it was all sorts of pretend foods and setting up house under their big pine tree, using Grandma Whitten's broom to sweep the pine needles, using them to make a pretend bed. I loved to walk down the hill to the road and wait for the postman to bring the mail. And I loved to bring the farm cats into the house (much to my grandmothers chagrin--but she was a grandma and so allowed me to do that, although she thought it was funny that I wanted to.

Ahhh, memories! I go into my day of washing clothes in my electric washing machine, vacuuming with my electric vacuum cleaner and driving to the store in my gas powered car with a much different attitude. Thank you, Lord!