Broken Dollar Bill Bullet Intervention

I went to dinner with my friend Amy after work tonight.
Then Amy and I went to get frozen yogurt.
While we were eating our frozen yogurt,
I saw a customer ask the cashier for some tape.
She had a broken dollar bill.
I immediately started thinking about that broken dollar bill.
In just a few seconds,
I wondered how the broken dollar bill had gotten torn,
how often cashiers were asked to mend money,
how long taped-up dollar bills would last, and
how a broken dollar bill could be turned into a metaphor for life.
When I mentioned that I was wondering about the broken dollar bill,
Amy simply said,
“It happens.”
I laughed.

Folks, there are very different types of people in this world.
And my friend Amy and I are two of those very different people.

When I got home from my outing with Amy,
Bullet met me at the door and took me for a walk—
Only, Bullet is not really supposed to go on walks this week because he has stitches in his right shoulder.
Bullet had a mass removed on Tuesday. We’re waiting on biopsy results.
Bullet doesn’t seem to realize that he’s not supposed to go on walks, though.
When his girlfriend Millie came to visit, he took off running behind her.
They go exploring together a lot. Millie is four times Bullet’s size. They are funny together.
Bullet was very happy to be out and about.
I, however, was not very happy that he was not doing what was best for him.
Concerned for the little guy,
Much further away from the house than we should have been,
I picked up Bullet’s twenty-one pounds and carried him home.
He happily let me carry him,
Licking my arm,
Glad, I think, to be off of the leg on which he was hobbling.

Folks, there are a lot of creatures in this world who do not know what’s best for them.
Bullet Williams-Deaton, along with countless youth and children, are some of those creatures,
And sometimes it’s up to those of us who know and love those creatures to intervene.

Thank God that there are very different types of people in this world—
With different gifts, different talents, different ways of seeing the world—
To intervene.

I know that I’m glad that Amy intervened with my broken-dollar thinking tonight.

Bullet Ate My Cookie

We all have those moments that stick with us whether we choose them or not. For instance, tonight at supper with the boys and girl, I recalled a story from my childhood in which I put my unwanted pickles in the greenery at Hardees one week and came back to find a tree in the same spot the next. I then declared, “I grew a pickle tree!” That event happened well over 20 years ago, yet I still remember it vividly. Why? I have no idea. It’s not like I’m a pickle tree advocate.

More recently, during a regular week-night dinner with my parents, my dad asked me to tell him what had made me laugh that day. I thought. And thought. And thought. And I could think of nothing. Then I thought, “That’s sad. I can’t think of one thing that made me laugh today.” Then I continued to think, “What’s even sadder is that today was not abnormal. I don’t ever laugh much at work. And that’s not good.” And it wasn’t good. And I hope maybe somehow that will change next year. Because laughter really is a very good thing.

And so, tonight, I offer a couple of incidents with Bullet that have made me laugh this week:

1) My family was at the house tonight to have an early birthday celebration for my mom. Her birthday is Sunday. Bullet has finally learned that my family will not hurt him, but he still doesn’t like spending very much time with them. He’s also learned that if he stays quiet enough then he can stay in the garage or driveway without being banished to his porch. Quite often, when the family is here, Bullet will find a way into the house and look around until he spots my dad, get a pat on the head, and then take himself back outside. He just doesn’t like being in the house with so many people.

So this evening, when I heard Bullet insistently knocking on the door while the family was still here, I knew that something must be wrong. Sure enough, storm clouds had begun to gather and thunder had begun to roll, and Bullet’s fear of storms had overridden his fear of the family. I let him in. He went and hid. Now he’s sleeping on the couch between my dad and me, looking up for comfort every once in awhile, knowing that he is very, very loved…and very, very spoiled. No. This isn’t a roll on the floor laughing story, but something about this still makes me laugh. Maybe it’s because he’s being so ridiculously and fearfully sweet.

2) My dad got new tires this week. Before he could order the tires, we had to figure out what tires were already on his car. As he shone the flashlight on the small codes that told us what size Bridgestone he was riding on, I bent down to look more closely. Immediately, Bullet walked over, lay on his back, opened his arms and legs, and basically said, “Oh good. You got down on my level to pet me. Thank you. Now pet me.” So I did. And then I remembered a time when I was helping mom and dad look for something under their bed and Bullet came over and started pawing at my hand and licking me, basically saying, “Oh good. You got down on my level to play with me. Thank you. Now let’s play.”

3) Every night that I’m home supper, Bullet thinks that we need to go for a walk after I finish eating. He runs toward the door, stops to look back at me and move his head toward the door to tell me to come on, gets to the door, does a little dance, scratches the door to tell me that it’s time to go out, and then runs outside in sheer happiness. He runs ahead of me, peeing all over everything, but never getting too far ahead without stopping to look back and make sure I’m coming. If he’s not finished walking when I’m ready to come home, then he ignores me and keeps walking. If I start coming back to the house and he realizes that I’ve left him, he bullets himself back to me as fast as he can. And then he collapses when he comes back in…kind of like he has collapsed from fear right now.

4) Bullet is fat. He loves to eat and he eats a lot. Every time he hears someone go into the kitchen and open anything with a wrapper, he thinks that we are getting him food. Every time we eat a meal at the kitchen table, he sits beside us and begs. He’s actually annoyingly cute when he sits up on his back legs and begs, sometimes with the tip of his little tongue out.

Sometimes, instead of eating at the table, my mom and I will eat in the den and watch a show. When this happens and Bullet thinks he is really hungry, he’ll rest his paws on my left leg and look at me with great expectations. Sometimes, if he thinks he is super hungry, he’ll leap across my lap and try to eat the food out of my hand. This is what he did on Monday—only I wasn’t eating chicken or a burger or anything that he likes. I was eating a cookie that I had made out of Funfetti cake mix!

To my knowledge, Bullet had never eaten a cookie, but for some reason he decided that he really wanted my cookie. Sitting anxiously with his paws on my legs, Bullet waited hopefully for me to give him a piece of the food treasure in my hand. When I didn’t—because it was a cookie—he jumped across my lap, stuck out his tongue, and licked my cookie! Very surprised by his actions, I looked at him and said, “Bullet—do you really want my cookie? It’s not chicken or anything.”

Now, when Bullet doesn’t like the food offered to him, he refuses to eat it. His dog bowl often has peas and carrots remaining in it from dog-food beef stew. Naturally, I figured he’d refuse to eat the cookie when he realized what it was. But I was wrong. He ate the whole thing. And I laughed. And all week I’ve laughed every time I’ve remembered the moment when Bullet ate my cookie.

Maybe you're laughing, too?

Basil Salt, Tarragon, And What We Know

I don’t remember how it happened.

Why Barb was going through our kitchen cabinets looking for spices in the early years of our friendship is beyond me, but what isn’t beyond me is the result of said search:

“You have garlic salt, onion salt, seasoning salt, sea salt, regular salt. I’m surprised you don’t have basil salt or something.”

The Christmas after that conversation, I made B some basil salt. If I’m not mistaken, she still has it…in the prescription bottle in which I presented it…with very much laughter.

In the years since my basil salt creation, my palette has been exposed to many new spices, and I’ve been much more adventurous with my food than in the first two decades of life. But here at home, we’re still pretty conservative with our spice usage: salt, pepper, garlic, onion, basil, and seasoning salt.

…

Here is the recipe for Deaton Beans: Bacon and Canned Green Beans. Cook the bacon. Drain most of the bacon grease. Cook/heat the green beans in remaining bacon grease. When of the green-bean liquid has cooked out, sprinkle the cooked bacon on top of the beans and serve. Deaton Beans are delicious.

But when a choir member gave us fresh green beans last week, my sister decided that we needed a special recipe. I can’t remember the exact recipe, but I know that it included bacon, garlic, basil, and…tarragon. When she told us that she had used tarragon, both my mom and I, completely independent of one another, said, “Tarragon?! We have tarragon?!” Dana’s beans were good—a nice experiment with spice—and evidently I like tarragon—but…well…they weren’t Deaton Beans.

…

Here is the recipe for Deaton Carrots: Carrots, salt, pepper, butter, sugar, and basil. Boil the carrots to desired crunchi- or mushi-ness. Drain. Add salt, pepper, butter, sugar, and basil to taste.

Here is the recipe for Deaton Spinach: Frozen chopped spinach, salt, pepper, butter, and white vinegar. Cook the spinach according package directions. Add salt, pepper, butter, and vinegar to taste. We use approximately one lid-ful of vinegar.

…

I cooked supper tonight. Sort of. A family friend brought us pork tenderloin, so I cooked the side-dishes. When it came time to prepare the carrots and spinach, I had a choice to make: Be adventurous and use something from the recesses of our spice cabinet—like tarragon—or stick to what we know.

Possibly boringly but comfortingly, I chose the latter.

…

Sometimes, friends, it’s fun to be adventurous. Sometimes, truth be known, it’s necessary.
But sometimes, in the middle of a long run of stress, sticking to what we know is exactly what we need…and it is exactly what we needed tonight.

Don't You Remember?

In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the [angels] said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: ‘The Son of Man must be delivered over to the hands of sinners, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.’ ” Then they remembered his words.

“Do not fear,” is the phrase that the angels usually spoke to those whom they visited. But as Patrick pointed out at the sunrise service yesterday morning, “Do not fear,” is not what Mary and her friends heard when they arrived at the tomb on Easter morning. Instead, they almost received a reprimand—“Don’t you remember?” they said. “Don’t you remember that Jesus told you that he would be killed but that in three days he would rise again? Don’t you remember that he told you not to fear—not to worry? Don’t you remember that today is the third day? Don’t you remember? Don’t you remember? Don’t you remember?”

“Of course they didn’t remember,” I said to myself as Patrick finished asking those questions. “Of course they didn’t remember.”

I didn’t remember that a student had promised to bring me a sandwich until he pulled the sandwich out of his book-bag the next day.

On Thursday, I had a sandwich conversation with one of my 4th graders. I have no idea why we were talking about sandwiches, but he asked what I liked on my sandwiches. I said, “Not onions.” He said, “Do you like ham?” I said, “Yes.” He said, “Do you like cheese?” I said, “Yes.” He said, “Then I’ll make you a ham and cheese sandwich.” I said, “Okay!”

Then I thought nothing more of the conversation. I even forgot that we’d had it…until the next morning when he said, “Oh! I have your sandwich for you.” Then I remembered.

Figuring that he’d pull out a squished sandwich in a sandwich bag, I had to fight back tears when he pulled out a full lunch box. “I packed a little dessert for you, too. And a napkin. And a bottle of water. And I put one of those little lemonade packets in there so that you can mix it with the water and have lemonade.”

Did I say that I was fighting back tears?

I’ve told this story quite a few times since Friday. I even announced the student’s kindness on the morning announcements that day. Yet if I had remembered the student’s words from the day before, then I wouldn’t have been so surprised…not that being surprised is a bad thing…but…

If I couldn’t remember a simple sandwich promise from the day before, then of course Mary and her friends didn’t remember Jesus’ promise of resurrection from weeks before.

And if I can be moved to tears and be led to share a simple sandwich story with the world, then how much more should I not be moved to tears and led to share the amazing story of life that comes through Jesus Christ.

Jesus is risen. He is risen indeed.

And I bet he’d bring each of us a sandwich.

Empty Stomach, Full Heart

“Amelia, baby, have you eaten your food?” asks Dana.

Amelia responds through a sheepish grin, “Yyyyyeeeess. I’ve aten some of it.”

Then Amelia goes back to talking with her brother and cousins while the adults smile at one another, knowing good and well that Amelia has barely eaten anything.

“That didn’t sound guilty at all,” chuckled my brother.

“Oh, I know :-).” Dana said. “I figured she wouldn’t eat much. She never does when she’s around the cousins. I thought about barely giving her any food. I guess that’s what I should have done.”

Such was the conversation around my parent’s 50th Anniversary dinner table on Saturday night. And for some reason, my first thought upon hearing this exchange was, “Maybe this is what Jesus meant when he said he was the bread of life.”

Whenever the kids are together, they tend to be so joyous that they don’t really need food—especially Griffin and Amelia. If there’s food for them to graze, then they’ll fill up on that because they can grab it as they pass by in their play. But when it comes time to sit down for a meal, they usually have so much fun laughing, talking, and just being together that food becomes a secondary need.

I wonder if Jesus meant that that’s what fellowship with him is like. I wonder if Jesus knew that spending time and hanging out with him could fill a person with so much contentment, happiness, and joy that things like desire for food and drink move to the background. I wonder if Jesus was saying that when we come together in his spirit of love and giving that we will never want for anything again…

Maybe not.

But maybe so.

And maybe our meals should always be followed by singing and instrument playing…which is exactly what happened on Saturday night…while a joyous empty-stomached-but-full-hearted-Amelia danced.

Dear Grocery Store, I Miss You Already...

Week One Fast: Television and Social Media. Success. Sort of. I did well with Social Media but watched at least one TV show per night to keep me company and comfort Bullet in my dad’s absence.

Week Two Fast: Hurriedness. Success. Totally. I felt the slow-down in body and spirit.

Week Three Fast: Isolation. Success. Sort of. I tried really hard to make new connections with those around me but didn’t successfully spend time with anyone outside of my normal people—school people at school, family, Flora, and Barb. I’m going to continue working on this one while seeking to be mindful of personal boundaries.

Week Four Fast: Food. Food. Sigh.

My guess is that most of my fellow church-goers are fasting food (and drinks) such as chocolate, ice cream, candy, desserts, red meat, coffee, soft drinks, and fast food. Upon thinking about each of these things and considering the cost of fasting from them, I realized that I could somewhat easily do each of them—except for coffee—and that’s only because I didn’t want to have a caffeine headache on top of the headache that I’d likely grow while leading my students in instrument playing each day this week . I did, however, decide that I would fast from going out for coffee…unless given the opportunity to work on week three’s isolation fast by hanging out with a friend.

“So what should I fast?” I pondered. And then it hit me: the grocery store.

Food Lion. IGA. CVS (that I sometimes treat as a grocery store).

Not going to the grocery store is going to be a bigger challenge and sacrifice for me than not eating or drinking any particular food or drink.

I love going to the grocery store.

I love shopping for deals. I love buying things for school. I love buying things for other people. All at the grocery store. In fact, I went to the grocery store over 20 times in September and bought everything from crayons to citronella candles to coffee—lots and lots of coffee for the coffee club at school.

I’ve found that IGA has a discount dairy counter that’s regularly updated with items that need to be sold quickly. I like to stop by and see what’s there.

I’ve found that Food Lion has a discount corner that’s stocked with very random things. I like to stop by and see what’s there, too.

Plus I just like to walk up and down the aisles and look at things. If I find a super good deal, then I purchase it. Sometimes I go into the grocery store just to kill time and end up leaving with an armful of stuff. Last week, while waiting for my Chinese food to cook, I called Barb and said, “Hey B. This is Deanna the Food Lion shopper…” and then proceeded to as her advice about purchasing some supplies for her classroom.

I really like the grocery store.

And it’s not lost on me that going to the grocery store is a luxury.

And so…this week I fast the grocery store. And it’s already been a challenge.

Tonight, when I went to get supper for my mom and myself, I ended up right beside Food Lion (see picture that I took from my car window). As stupid as this sounds, it physically hurt to know that I couldn’t go in. The same thing happened as I drove by the reduced price dairy counter at the IGA. You see. Tomorrow is Terrific Treat Tuesday at school and I really wanted to check on the Starbucks Iced Coffee and cookie dough. But alas…I made myself keep driving. And I prayed.

I’ll be praying a lot this week…which, after all, is the point—to structure my days around prayer and to pray this day for daily bread.

Mrs. Flora Ate My Ribs

I went to visit Mrs. Flora last night.

On my way, I called to see if she wanted anything for supper.

She did. Chinese food. Egg rolls and chicken fried rice.

She also needed a few of her grocery store staples: grapefruit, bananas, cereal, English muffins, frozen dinners, Hershey’s Kisses, hot chocolate, chocolate chip cookies, brownie mix, and ice cream. Breyers. Mint Chocolate Chip.

As I unloaded the groceries, Mrs. Flora unloaded the Chinese food. She spoke about how good it smelled and how tasty it looked. She asked what everything was. “We each have two egg rolls,” I explained. “And this is the chicken fried rice you wanted, and these are my ribs and pork fried rice.”

I had gotten myself enough food to have for lunch today.

“We probably need real plates for our food, don’t we?” Mrs. Flora asked.

“I don’t need a plate,” I responded. “I’ll probably just eat out of the container. But you can get yourself a real plate if you’d like.”

While I went into the other room to put away the frozen items, Mrs. Flora got out two plates. She opened the eggs rolls and uncovered the ribs. She asked what the chicken fried rice was again, so I told her.

She then began to carefully and happily serve our plates: two ribs for Flora, two ribs for Dee; two egg rolls for Flora, two egg rolls for Dee; half of the pork fried rice for Flora, half of the pork fried rice for Dee. Then the plates were full.

Licking her fingers, Mrs. Flora declared, “This sure smells good…We’ll need something to eat with. I think we need spoons for the rice. And a lot of paper towels.”

After getting spoons for the rice and paper towels for our hands, Mrs. Flora noticed the container of chicken fried rice. “What’s that?” she asked. “Chicken fried rice,” I replied. “But I don’t think we need it :-).”

“No. I don’t think we need it either,” Mrs. Flora agreed.

After finding our seats in the den so that we could watch Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune, Mrs. Flora and I ate our Chinese food together.

She pronounced everything delicious and declared her gratitude for my bringing food.
I texted Barb and said, “Mrs. Flora is eating my ribs.”
She chuckled. I laughed.
And I de-onioned the chicken fried rice for lunch today.

I really enjoy my time with Mrs. Flora. It’s simple. Familiar. Worthwhile. Funny. And it always ends with a hug and smile of thanks.

What more could one ask than that?

Except for maybe some ribs :-).

Sushi and Sardines

I met a homeless man named Lawrence tonight. We crossed paths at a crosswalk outside of Sushi Blues in Raleigh. I had just celebrated my friend Angela’s birthday (two days late). I gave her two of the members of the Hallmark Angel band. If you’ve never seen Hallmark’s Holiday bands, then you should. They’re actually really cool.

Anyway, Lawrence told me I looked cold, which I was. Then we started talking. His wife had recently died of lung cancer. He had fallen in love with her as an older adult and then chosen to stay by her side until the end of her life. He said it was really hard to watch her die. And that it was hard to give up his place after he used all of his money for her funeral.

I asked Lawrence if he had a place to sleep. I knew we weren’t near a shelter. He said that he’d tried to go to the shelter but that the other men there could get kind of crazy, so he preferred to stay on his own. He said he had a blanket and couple of places he liked to lie down for the night. He was wearing a toboggan and sweater and sturdy coat, boots, and jeans. I told him I was glad that he was dressed warmer than me.

I felt completely safe with Lawrence.

I asked him if he needed any food. He said he always appreciated food. I told him to walk with me to my car, that I had a bag for him. I gave him a homeless bag (the reusable shopping bag kind) and told him it had in it a roll of toilet paper, a roll of paper towels, some hygiene products, and some things to eat. I told him I hoped he could find something in the bag that he liked. He said he would.

Then he hugged me and said, “God bless you.” I hugged him back and said, “God bless you, too.” And I smiled…because he had a faint hint of cologne on him .

We talked for a few more minutes. He told me to keep the oil and fluids checked in my car and that it should keep going for a long time, even if it was hard to keep clean. “White and black cars are hard to keep clean,” he said. I assured him that I’d keep the oil and fluids checked and that it was okay that it didn’t stay clean. I don’t care so much about the outside of my car as long as the inside doesn’t get too dirty.

After we said our goodbyes, Lawrence took his bag to some nearby stairs. He unpacked it to see what was inside and I heard a little exclamation of excitement as he pulled out the sardines and canned meats. He looked at me, held up a can, and smiled. I gave him a thumbs up and drove away thinking that maybe I should try canned sardines sometimes. A lot of people seem to like them.

On nights like tonight when I didn’t listen to my mother and dress warmly yet know that I have a warm car to take me to a warm house where I can sit with two parents who love me while working on a computer that has been good to me and then go upstairs to take a hot shower that I don’t really need and then snuggle into a cute little bed that has held my dreams for many, many years, I can’t help but be overly grateful that even without a job and even while carrying a lot of heartache and grief I still have the ability to eat sushi with lifelong friends and give sardines to a man named Lawrence who, also, was created in God’s image.

God. Thank is you is not enough. But. Thank you. And God? Please bless Lawrence and keep him safe and warm tonight and throughout the winter and beyond. Amen.

---------

What is one thing about your college for which you are grateful? If you haven't yet been to college, then what is or was it about your school? I’m thankful that Meredith College provided me with a super education that prepared me for teaching and introduced me to professors who care enough to friend me on Facebook and friends with whom I can eat sushi while sharing memories from 17+ years of life together.

What is one thing about the 80+ year old persons in your life for which you are grateful? I’m grateful for their stories and wisdom and resilience to live through so many decades of rapid change. [This question came after a two hour conversation with a woman with whom I used to go to church. As of yesterday, I have begun cleaning her house…only…I didn’t get to cleaning because we talked for my whole visit hours instead! She was once an officer in the military. I find that fascinating.]

What is one company/business whose products, services, and/or values you are thankful? I am thankful for the US Postal Service, UPS, and FedEx. I know sometimes that they receive a bad rap, but when I stop and think about what they do—how quickly they move products around the world—I’m amazed…and grateful. Not to mention that this year’s USPS Christmas Stamps are really pretty!

A Minor Thanksgiving Day Miracle

I know this sounds silly, but a minor miracle occurred during lunch today: I was able to taste my food. Not for the whole meal. But for just one moment. I could taste my food. And it was really good! As quickly as I could without muddling the flavors, I took one bite each of everything on my plate: turkey, rice/gravy, dressing, field peas, and carrots. I imagine that I looked kind of silly eating one bite of everything on my plate as quickly as I could. But no joke, after I’d tasted one bite of everything, my ability to taste went away again and I finished the meal with only a general idea of the taste of what I was eating—salty or sweet. It’s as if that one moment happened just for me.

We’re having our official Thanksgiving Meal on Saturday when the house will be full of kids and the table full of different foods. Maybe the congestion that has stolen both my taste buds and sense of smell will be completely cleared out by then. Maybe not. Maybe I’ll still be living in a smell-less, taste-less funk. Regardless, one thing I’ve learned this Thanksgiving season is that nothing is too small to be grateful for—especially not the senses of smell and taste. I don’t know that I’ll ever take them for granted again.

What is one thing you've experienced that you wouldn't trade for the world? Seeing my nephew fly into the world and my niece simply arrive.

What is one smell that always brings you comfort? The smell outside just after it begins to rain. I think it may actually be the smell of the pavement, but whatever it is, it always makes me smile.

What is one thing you appreciate about Thanksgiving Day? The relaxed pace and time set aside for rest. Our more action-filled celebration occurs on another day. And on this particular Thanksgiving Day, I appreciate the hope of getting well and being able taste and smell again.

Dear God, your creativity and attention to detail never cease to amaze me. For giving us five senses with which to live and enjoy life, thank you. For giving us food to eat and the ability to share with those in need, thank you. For being a God in whom our hope never fails, thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Amen.