Tag Archives: single mom

The Best Gift of All

Earlier in the week, I walked to a friends house for coffee. We had agreed to exchange gifts this year, but keep it below $20. It’s humorous how well she knows my heart. She served Christmas cookies with our coffee.

She flung open the front door and yelled, “Happy Christmas, Barbara!” I grinned at her knowing full well, we don’t say that in Texas and gave her an accusatory glance of being from California, but she’s one of my best friends.

I went from there to run some errands, but I’ve learned the value of having a few good souls in your life and to spend as much time possible with them. I was talking myself out of something and sharing my thoughts with my friend when she saw right through me. Lady A, nudges me to make decisions. She highlighted my choices, gave me permission to do either, but encouraged me to pick one as she unraveled each end result. As the day unfolded, so did the decision.

I simply wanted to pause here a moment and wish ya’ll a peaceful holiday season. It doesn’t matter the amount of presents under the tree, but rather the names written on each tag is what counts. They are the true blue souls who share your life and spending time with them my darling is the best gift of all.

Merry Christmas lovelies. Barb.

Share What You Know

It was this time last year that I was walking though Wal-Mart when I cut through the grocery department and noticed two young girls, no more than 20 years old, walking toward me. They were squinting at a list that had been torn from a small notepad. No doubt handwritten and most likely in cursive. The vibe was they were exasperated trying to locate what was on the list. As our paths crossed, I heard one of the girls say through gritted teeth…

“Why do we need half and half? It’s just watered down milk!”

This was one year ago, but I still remember it like it was yesterday. I didn’t say anything at the time, but wish I had. You see my lovely reader’s…there are younger generations who need what we know.

My new neighbors still have their water hose connected to their outside spigot. The weather forecast is predicting below freezing temperatures later in the week. I’m not going to wait much longer before asking my neighbor if he knows what to do to winterize that outdoor pipe. They are young, so they may not know, but I don’t want to see water gushing out of that pipe and flooding his garage when I could have said something to prevent it from happening.

Share what you know.

And for the record….half and half is a combination of milk and cream.

These Three Words

The first time she left me a note, it was scribbled on a shipping label with black sharpie. This was the norm for a while, but as the months rolled by I went to retrieve the mail, and spotted a small, white envelope laying atop the mail. Nestled inside was an actual thank you note written in ink, but then today inside my mailbox there laid a postcard and her words filled me with a sense of ‘mission accomplished.’ I believe there’s three words which are more meaningful than the three we give away daily and they are…

I appreciate you.

Who is ‘she’?

My mail carrier.

Being a mail carrier is not for sissies, especially in the Texas heat, so all year long I’ve let my mail carrier know…I appreciate you. Sometimes I’d leave her a Starbucks card because it seems to me you’d need a torrent of coffee to deliver mail! If I had two of something, one was left in the mailbox for her along with these three words. If you hear the same words long enough they become believable, but it’s imperative the words you hear refresh your soul and help you grow. My mission was to put these three words in front of my mail carrier until she felt them and by the note she left today it’s confirmed.

Who is in your daily life that longs to hear these three words?

Feature Photo by Stéphan Valentin on Unsplash

The Christmas Tree

My neighbor whom I refer to as Hercules didn’t put his Christmas tree up this year. He shared he only did it for his granddaughter and since she moved away there’s no need. My daughter moved out this year, but the tinsel tree made it’s appearance before Thanksgiving.

I bought this tree the year my daughter went to England for Christmas and it’s absolutely obnoxious, but it brings a smile to my face every time I look at it. This morning I was sitting near the tree reading my devotional and gazing at the ornaments within view. The tree tells a story of a single Mom and her daughter and their love for pretty. There are still a few ornaments hanging on from years ago when we decorated our first tree while living on our own. Over the years, the ornaments became better quality, so you can tell my income increased.

This morning my devotional says, “I am working on your behalf. Bring Me all your concerns, including your dreams. Talk with Me about everything, letting the light of My presence shine on your hopes and plans. Spend time allowing My light to infuse your dreams with life, gradually transforming them into reality.” (Jesus Calling page 362) That’s where I am on this journey.

Maybe men have different viewpoints than women about the Christmas tree. When I first met Mr. Smith he didn’t have a tree, but he did the following year and my guess would be it’s become more elaborate over time. Then again, my daughter’s boyfriend loves everything about Christmas and they were thrilled to decorate my tree for me, so I’m perplexed. Feel free to share your views.

There’s still time to buy a real tree, or the closer it gets to Christmas, you can buy an artificial one at a really good price. The ornaments will start to go on sale and after Christmas they’ll be 75% off, so if you’re not feeling the Christmas tree this year, you can plan to have one next year. I have faith my life story is already written, but December is the one time a year we can see something larger than ourselves, holding snippets of our life and it’s mesmerizing.

Here’s a single Mom, in an empty nest, with an undying love for the Christmas tree.

Feature Photo by Bao Menglong on Unsplash

The Age of Absolutely

I drove into town specifically to purchase a pair of gloves. I’d seen them in one of my favorite shoppes over a month ago and was drawn to them then, but didn’t make the purchase. They only had two pair left of an interesting pattern that I probably wouldn’t have chosen at first glance, but sliding my hand inside the glove, they offered that same divine feeling as the solid colored pair I’d tried on previously. I knew right then and there, this was an absolutely.

Standing at the counter to pay I told the cashier, “I don’t need a bag”, but she smiled and said, “These gloves come with their very own box!”

My immediate thought was, it’s a shame to not be giving them as a gift, but the cashier recommended using the box to hold any gift. I shrugged off the glimmer of guilt and wished everyone a spectacular day to begin the journey home.

I was raised in a home where Mama never bought anything fun for herself. We had what we needed, but not much extra and then my marriage of 23 years was the opposite where everything was bought for me if I looked at it twice.

I don’t recall Mama letting her heart lead until she was in her 50’s, like I’ve been more apt to follow my heart in recent years. Decisions don’t have to be yes, or no because the heart knows absolutely. I’ll leave you with that my darling reader’s, but it seems I’ve reached the age of absolutely. Have you?

On Being a Writer

On Thanksgiving Day my new neighbor brought over a dish filled with their Thanksgiving feast to share. In the four years of living here, that has not happened, so I was touched by their thoughtfulness and generosity. They have surmised I live alone, but don’t know very much about me, so I typed them a letter.

The letter painted a picture of where my life has evolved to since they moved in. They’ve not met my daughter because she had already moved out, but told them if they noticed a black Jeep in the driveway, that would be her. This morning I took their dish back filled with home baked goodies. It’s proper to return the dish, but Mama always said, “Never return the dish empty.”

I rang the doorbell, dish in hand and the wife opened the door. She was surprised, but happy to see me standing there as I thanked her for sharing their meal and handed her the dish. We talked for a minute and then she exclaimed, “Are you a writer?!” I smiled and admitted, “Yes, I am, but have actual jobs for income.” She seemed disappointed, like her glamourous vision of me living here alone and writing all day long was crushed. Trying to understand, she asked, “So, writing is your side gig?”, and I replied, “Writing is simply my gig.”

You see, I’m always writing. Whether it a weekly newsletter for one of my jobs, leaving a comment on someone’s post in our Circle community, returning an email, or messaging with my Team, my fingers are constantly moving across the keys. There’s a whole realm of writing as a part of my work, but the magical part of writing occurs pen to paper. The most loved writer appears when writing the morning pages, or a note to mail to a friend, that’s my heart song and of course, pounding the keys of the typewriter is absolute heaven for any writer.

It’s difficult to explain ‘being a writer’, as I speculate it has different meaning for each of us, but I believe we all have a writer in us. My writer shows up in every aspect of my life and the writer brings an extra sparkle to my eyes, a spring in my step and a mischievous grin to my lips. You’ll know you’re standing in the company of a writer, because as you’re talking, they’re typing in their head.

Trust the Process

I purchased a vintage typewriter. I’ve longed for one all year, but this grew to be more in September. It was a process because I didn’t realize the multitudes of choices. After thorough research I surmised this criteria used to take the majority of them out of the running. They needed to be in working order and the ink cartridge’s/ribbon not by any means in dramatic decline.

I found one locally and it’s electric, which I’d been casting a keen eye over manual, but I genuinely favored the color of this one. The local woman was delightful to work with and purchase from. She was elated to sell it to someone who was going to use it and it’s used every day. The main reason for the purchase was to have a way to write that didn’t include a computer screen.

I wasn’t prepared for how loud it is between the humming of the motor and each key pounding the page, but with time it grew into a welcome sound that soothes my psyche. I’ve moved it at least 20 times to various locations in my home, trying to find the space that feels right. To my surprise it persists in finding the corner of my bedroom unparalleled. Reminiscent of Stephen King in On Writing, my corner for writing found me and that’s as far as I’ve gotten.

To sit down in front of this typewriter, insert a blank page, turn it on and type each day for 30 minutes. To have no foreknowledge of the outcome, but survey the stack of pages acquiring height. This is all I can gather as we simply trust the process.