A Visit to Fireside Place-Part 3: The Detour

“Where are you going?” Mom asked as we headed to Aloma Avenue to get gas before we went to the nursing home. We had just finished shopping earlier and had put away all the groceries before we left.

“I’m taking a little detour down memory lane.” I said.

“What?” she asked again.

“My high school, Mom. Oh, here it is.”

I stopped in front of Winter Park High and looked at the old brick building that I remembered as new. I glanced at the oak trees that I remembered as small saplings that now towered overhead. There was still a flagpole in front of the not-so-impressive façade. I was looking at holy ground.

So what’s so special about it? A lot of my memories of it have faded. There is really not much left to recall. But one main even stands out. The day I got saved I still remember in every detail.

“Do you know the Four Spiritual Laws?” asked a girl as she approached me that day as I stood out front on the sidewalk. I was a lonely adolescent who had few friends. I read a lot and made good grades but there was a terrible aching in my heart for love, companionship and acceptance. I guess I was a gullible victim for the Gospel and I am glad God set it up that way.

When I accepted Christ as my personal Savior that day, his love and joy filled my soul. I felt totally new and it was a great feeling. Believe it or not, it was over 40 years ago and still is just as fresh in my mind as on that first day of my Christian walk. It was the wonderful thought that God loved me and had a wonderful plan for my life.

My life sometimes doesn’t feel so wonderful. I have trials and troubles and some days are almost unbearable. But with Jesus, my Savior, at my side, what a difference it has made! Now, many more people have been loved by me and had transformed lives because of that one day back in 1971 when my life was changed.

“Never despise the day of small beginnings.” Of all things that happened to me before or since nothing has ever compared. It was my A.D. moment. It was my first year of Our Lord and it has been exciting ever since.

 “We gotta go!” Mom exclaimed. “We have to get to the nursing home soon to pick upAnn and then on to the restaurant."

I snapped back to the present.

I drove a few blocks to the nursing home then and visited with Ann, mom’s friend of over 50 years. She told us she didn’t feel like going out to eat. Her legs looked more swollen than ever, so it was probably a wise decision.

We gave her a hug and said good-bye.

“Don’t be sad!” She replied. “I’m going home in a few days. Then the swelling will go down. I believe it." Her faith and determination reflected in her strong brown eyes.

“We’ll be praying for you.” I replied.

And then it was on the seafood restaurant to meet Carol, another long-time friend and hear about her husband Lloyd’s current update.

A Visit to Fireside Place: Part 2: Lunch with Mom

On my arrival, as I walk through the door of the 1^st floor condo, I see Jean, her home health aide, vacuuming.

            “Hi, Jean!” I exclaim. “Where is Mom?”

            “She’s in the shower,” she says without looking at me or smiling.

            “Is anything wrong?” I asked.

            Jean looked at me and frowned. “Yes! My mother is dying of cancer and so is my brother.”

            “That’s terrible!” I exclaimed in empathy. We discussed this for a few minutes as she finished and started preparing our lunches.

            “Jean, Oh, Jean!” Mom yelled from the bathroom. Jean dropped everything to help my mom, who was in her eighties now, get dressed.

            I followed right behind her and peeked over her shoulder. “Hi, Mom!” I shouted.

            “Hi, Laura!” she responded back. “You had a safe trip?”

            “Yes and the weather is perfect out there.”

            Jean came back out and finished preparing our lunches of tossed salad and fried tilapia. I picked them up from the counter and brought them to her dining room table.

            We hadn’t taken but a few bites of our meal when I noticed Jean had disappeared.

            “Jean!” Mom yelled. “You can dust the coffee table, the end tables and the bedroom window sill. You know?” She snapped and her voice lowered, “the sills have never been dusted in one whole year. One whole year.”

            “Really? That’s bad.” I responded.

            “Yes, ma’am!” we heard from Jean has who hurried to finish her work so she could leave early.

            “I like her,” Mom continued, “but you have to tell her to do everything. She has no self-initiative, you know? She doesn’t put away the pots or pans, either. Then she always wants to leave early and get paid for the full time.”

            “Yeah, I see. She said her mom and brother are dying from cancer. At least, that’s her excuse.” I said as I crunched on the big bowl of salad. “Why don’t you tell the agency about it?”

            “I will, but I’ve been so busy, what with my friend, Dr. Sarah, staying with me for a whole month and all.”

            “That was too long a visit, Mom! You should’ve just told her to stay only two weeks.”

            “No, I couldn’t do that to a friend.”

            A determined look came over her aged face.

            “But, Mom, sometimes friends stay too long.”

            She said nothing more but we ate a few minutes in silence. I noticed she had three prominent pictures of my younger brother, Frank, on the wall. One had him smiling with his First Holy Communion outfit on looking almost like a priest, smiling down on us. The rest were when he was little, too.

            “She always did favor him more.” I thought to myself but I kept my musings to myself.

            Jean left about an hour early and Mom explained she wouldn’t be paid for the hour she didn’t work.

             We finished our meal and I cleaned the plates off the table and finished putting away the pots and pans.

            “Are you ready to go shopping?”

            “Yes! Yes! Let’s go! Where’s the list?”

            “Right here,” I responded and tucked it into my pocket. “You want your sweater?” I asked her.

            “No, I’m good. I don’t need a sweater.” She got up from the table and plopped down in her lounge chair.

            Suddenly, the cocker spaniel started barking loudly. “Oh, Roxy has to go out before we go!”

            I said I would do it and grabbed          the leash. I went outside with her and she tugged hard on it as we tramped down the sidewalk. I noticed all the azaleas were blooming early this year due to our mild weather. The neighborhood of condos and townhouses was quiet this early Tuesday afternoon. However, you could hear the laughing and playing of the children in the daycare.

            I forgot the pooper-scooper and ran back to get it. I had to remember the exact spot where the dog went. It broke when I was using it and I guess we’ll have to buy a new one today if we could find one.  I tried to patch up the old one with masking tape.

            So we got ready to go and I took my car instead of her Cadillac. It’s too hard to back out of her narrow one-car garage.

            But I took a detour first…

A Visit to Fireside Place: Part 1: I-4

          Once a month, I leave my humble home in an agricultural area of Florida to travel I-4 to see my mom in Orlando. It is a congested artery year round but worse during the winter months. I pass signs that read Fantasy of Flight, Legoland, Sea World and all the Disney Parks.  Also, I zip past gaudy souvenir shops and lush, green golf courses.

          Whenever I go this way, I always remember the times I visited Disney World and when my sister was a Monorail operator there. And I always recall the place where Herbie I, my PT Cruiser died when my son crashed it into the back of our truck that my husband, Bob, was driving. It was right under the Mickey Mouse high wires and before International Drive. We all stopped suddenly during heavy traffic in January when the cars ahead of us saw a police car with its lights flashing. My car was totaled. We had to quickly go and buy another one, a bright red 2011 model that we immediately labeled “Herbie II”. I’ve had him for a year now and he’s running well.

          Next, I pass the Holy Land Experience and Universal Studios. I always think about the billboard that says “Be Extraordinary” and wonder if I am. And I remember my experiences in those parks as well.

          Then, about an hour after my journey began, I approach downtown Orlando and one of the first things I see is the Merita Bread sign: an icon that’s been around longer than 40 years. I used to be able to smell the bread baking before A/C was standard equipment on my car.

           I pass the toll road and am glad I don’t have to take that any more. Mom lives closer now; not far from downtown Orlando and near our old neighborhood; the one we all grew up in Winter Park.

          Now, I turn at the Amelia Street exit and go down Colonial Drive, past all the Vietnamese restaurants, the Chinese market with the huge Budda statues and other places with squiggly-lined, oriental signs out front.  I pass the old Colonial Photo and Hobby store where we used to buy our stamps and coins (Bob and I) before there were video games, cell phones and computers. The store is half the size it used to be. I dwelt on the sweet thoughts of yesteryear; how life was so much more undemanding and simpler back then.

          Finally, I pass the mall and turn down a couple of streets until I enter the exclusive downtown development of Barclay Park. It used to be a military base but it closed years ago and has been converted into homes. My mom’s condo is located here on Fireside Place. I always can spot hers by the worn rattan furniture and half-dead plants that clutter the front porch.

          I then breathe a sigh of relief. I’ve arrived safely. I park across the street in the day care parking lot and get out and enjoy the warm sun on my face as I cross the street to the front door. Thank you, Lord, I whisper to myself, I’m glad I finally made it safely and without any accidents along the way. I-4 was good to me today.

A Quiet New Years Eve

It was just another quiet New Year’s Eve; another warm Florida day in my sleepy, little town.

I looked around the crowded grocery store. Where was he?

I was looking for John and couldn’t find him anywhere. He was my autistic client and it was getting me worried.

Turning around, I saw two forlorn-looking plants sitting there on the shelf wilting under the bright fluorescent lights. They were two tiny poinsettia plants left over from Christmas I assumed.

“How much are those?” I asked the lady in the Floral Department. “It says .99. Is that correct?” I picked them up to scrutinize them more.

“Oh, shucks!” She replied smiling at me and shaking her head. “You can have ‘em for 25 cents each. They look about dead.”

I looked at them again, They didn’t look that bad to me. They just needs some watering and some good Florida sun.

“I could plant these in something bigger or in the back yard.”

“Yes, you could. They grow good here as long as you water them.”

“Thanks,” I said and took my last two quarters out of my purse. It lifted my mood a little to be able to buy something. “Oh, no.” she said. “You pay at the registers.”

“Okay,” I said, “but can you do me a favor?”

“What?” she asked.                                     

“Call for John Smith over your loudspeakers. I can’t find him anywhere.”

She called out his name just as he walked back into the store with a big soft drink in his hand and a bag of groceries and looked around to see where I was.

I yelled, of course, and waved my hand, “Over here, John!” And he turned and ran over to me.

“Leaving without me, eh? You know you’re not supposed to do that. Besides, I am buying these two little plants and we have to pay up front.

“Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry. I forgot you went to the restroom. I already checked out.”

“Yes, I see. And you didn’t wait for me. Next time, please don’t wander off.”

So I went to buy my two plants with my two quarters in hand.

 Suddenly, I hear voices yelling, “Mrs. B! Mrs. B!” Next thing I know, three little girls were giving me bear hugs. “We LOVE you, Mrs. B! We love you! When are you coming back to our school?”

My substitute teaching takes me to a lot of places but I am amazed a lot of the kids remember me. I feel like a school circuit rider and sometimes even like a celebrity.

“I’m coming in a few weeks. See you then. Love you too.” I hugged them back.

So I got my little plants and went home. I had to hurry and drop John off. That afternoon I had another person to watch, Mr. Rivera, an elderly man. I had to warm up his dinner and then run home and cook my own dinner for me and Bob.

When I got home that afternoon, I was ready to prepare our supper and have a quiet evening at home. I was tired after a very busy day.

Bob looked at me oddly.

“You don’t have to cook tonight, hon. We’re going out for dinner.”

“But, we don’t have any money.” I replied.

“Yes we do. Our friend and former relative Steve Johnson came by this afternoon. He introduced me to his new girlfriend and asked me what we were doing tonight. I told him we were broke and were just going to stay home. He gave me a $100.00 bill and told me to take you out. He said he just inherited a million dollars.”

“How on earth did he inherit a million dollars?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask him that. I just took the money.”

So we went out to eat. The rest we put in the offering at church. It’s an encouraging sign.

God’s got some great things in store for us this year. I just know it.

And it was just another quiet, but special, New Year’s Eve in my sleepy little town…

The Wisdom of the Aged

“I don’t know why they brought me down here!” The old lady said that was sitting in her wheel chair next to me.

“Well, I think it’s time for lunch.” I commented smiling at her as she gave me back a troubled look.

I was at the assisted living center to visit Marie, my former client with my agency who now lives there. I come out to visit her once and awhile and get paid a little for doing it.

The old lady continued her rant. “I eat three meals a day, you know. That’s it. That’s why I am like this.” She opened her sweater to show me her slightly swollen belly. “I try to stay small, you know, and not get fat like some of these other people here who eat everything.” She gestured to all the others gathered around the door waiting for their meals. “I only eat my three meals a day,” she repeated showing me three fingers.

“What’s your name?” I asked her.

“I’m Loretta. I’m French.” She added and said a big, long complicated French-sounding name.

“That’s pretty.” I added.

“Do you speak French?” She asked.

“No, only a little Italian and Spanish,” I replied.

I ventured further. “And were you ever married?”

“Oh, yes! To a wonderful Italian man! He used to sing opera to me every day. I loved it. And we were perfect for each other. He had a boy and I had a girl.”

“How long were you married?”

“Only four years. He went down into the jungles of the Phillipines on a special assignment for the military.”

 Suddenly, a pleasant lady came out of the door that seemed to be in charge. “Only two minutes left, folks! They’re taking out the coffee right now.” She laughed. “We’ll time them and see if that’s right.”

I focused back on our conversation. “Did your husband die?” I asked Loretta.

“He contracted malaria. I found out later that every American who went in there contracted it…”

“That’s so sad…” I said and then the door opened and lunch began and our conversation ended.

All the walkers, wheelchairs and limping people now crowded around the door. We all stood there in a bottleneck. It was Maria, a lady I had met there on Wednesday. She couldn’t get her wheelchair over the little molding in the floor. Finally, a lunchroom worker grabbed it and pulled her over it and the rest of us filed in.

The rest of the afternoon I spent listening to the ladies at my table which happened to be Maria, Marie and another lady named Dee who was heavy-set with dyed red hair. She would cough vigorously every so often. Maria was Cuban and loved hot chocolate and desserts and claimed to be diabetic.  Dee was there because she had had two strokes and fell a lot. She used to be a foster parent and spoke fondly of the children. She complained about the food, but ate it anyway. Marie, as usual, was quiet and easy-going.

Finally, it was time to go and I brought Marie to her nail appointment. I kissed her good-bye and got ready to go.

On the way out, I realized (like I always do when I visit this place) that life is a fragile thing. I am reminded that I should live it one day at a time and not worry too much about the future. After all, I could end up in an institution like this one someday, being warehoused with others that are of no longer any use to society. I felt a little pain in my hip. Oh no, I thought to myself, I hope not, but I’m getting up there myself!

So I’m going to try to be thankful in this coming year for my health, my family and God’s Provision. I am going to try not to complain or be envious of others. Age is the great equalizer and so is death.

Life is a short waiting time for a long eternity. Live, love, laugh and cry! And, don't procrastinate...do all you were created to do...

Have a Happy New Year!

Love,

Laura

The Fruit Stollen

I had seen him staring at me as I drove by his eyes wide and wearing a backward baseball cap.

Turning my head back to the road, he disappeared, somewhere down the street.

I had been driving down this long country road that seemed to go on and on for miles. Wiggins road, it was called. It passed by cow pastures and strawberry fields. I slowed down so I could find his house. He was an erstwhile client of ours, I heard and autistic.

Finally, I found a mailbox that matched his address so I pulled into a concrete driveway. The house was dilapidated and rundown and surrounded by pines, live oaks and palm trees. A broken-down hatch-back car vegetated in the driveway. I strolled up to the door as a cool breeze hit my face. No one answered my knock. I called his cell phone and there was no answer either. I stood there a few more minutes not puzzling as to what to do when suddenly I saw this tall man walking rapidly down the road towards me. He was wearing a corduroy jacket  and had a head of curly grayish blonde hair.

 “Are you John?” I asked.

“Yep.” He replied as I shivered in the early morning cold.

“I wasn’t sure you were coming. They never called me back.”

I sighed. “Yeah, sometimes that happens. Emma gets busy.”

Wait!” he yelled, “I gotta do sumpthin’!”

He ran beyond the house as I stood there waiting.

I got cold so I went and sat in my car. He finally returned only to mumble something about getting a signed check. He ran to the house next door. His sister came out a few minutes later and said it was hers. She got in her car to go to work. She had him give her other two blank checks he held in his hand and had also given him an envelope of cash.

Finally, he said good bye to her and jumped into my car. “

“Where you want to go?” I asked and before he could respond I added, “Walmart?”

“First, we gotta go to Sweet Bay. I gotta buy a fruit stollen. Its my dad’s favorite dessert.”

“Oh, okay. Do you live with your dad?” I asked as he showed me the way down the back roads through the strawberry fields.

“Yeah. I’ve lived here since 1979. My mom, dad and me moved down from New Jersey. My mom just passed away in October. Now, it’s just my dad and me. We turn here.”

I took a sharp turn and saw about twenty workers bending their backs to pick the crop. The road was paved but was only one lane. I hoped he knew where we were going and we didn’t get lost. Finally, it opened up on to Hwy 39 by the landscaping place and I knew where we were.

“So, was your mom old? I bet you miss her.”

“Yeah, I do. She was 92. She had dementia and my dad’s 89. He used to drive our old AMC station wagon. You know, the big ones that could hold nine passengers. That car had over 300,000 miles on it.

We turned into Sweet Bay and I parked and got out.

“So you never learned to drive, then.”

“No, I never did. My dad took me everywhere til he got too old. You know, we sold that car and someone’s still drivin’ it. Those old cars lasted forever.”

We walked into the store and he started looking around.

“What are you lookin’ for?” I had forgotten what he had said to me.

“The stollen. Remember?”

“I don’t think they have them. Maybe Publix does.”

He asked the lady in the bakery and she confirmed our suspicions.

So, we went to Wal-Mart and bought a bunch of stuff there including a box of lighters, six bottles of distilled water, two macaroni and cheese dinners and other grocery items.

“My sister usually takes me on Saturday, but, you know, she can’t this Saturday.”

“Yeah, it being Christmas Day.” I added.

Then, he ran from register to register looking for something.

Finally, I caught up with him. “What are you looking for?” I queried.

“My dad smokes a pipe.” He said. “He likes the different colored lighters.” He explained. “His favorite color is green.” He picked one up off a shelf. “This one will have to do.”

We finally got to an open register and got in the shortest line we could find.

“And Dad likes pears, too.” He put one pear on the belt.

“One pear? That’s all he eats?”

“Yeah, he uses the skin for his pipe. It keeps the tobacco moist.”

“Oh, okay.” Very strange, I thought.

But there were no fruit stollens at Wal-mart although he looked and looked.

Our next stop was Publix. “I bet they have them.” I repeated.

“Look!” I yelled with excitement when we walked in. “A fruit stollen!”

There they were right on a little table.

He bought two.

So we went back and he brought me into his house. It reeked as badly as he did of neglect. He wrote out the check and handed it to me when I told him the amount.

“Where’s your dad?”

“He’s still sleepin’. He sleeps until noon.”

That was my first visit with John. Now, I go there almost every Saturday to take him shopping. He likes the big band sound, so we listen to that station on the radio as we run from store to store. He is very compassionate and helps me with my shopping too.

I don’t think of him as handicapped any more. I think of the rest of us as handicapped. He is more normal than anyone I know.

So this year it’s Christmas Eve and we’re shopping again.

I doubt it will be for fruit stolen, though. His dad is not feeling very good. We are concerned he may die soon. I hope not. I don’t know if I will be able take John out any more. He will probably move in next door with his sister.

But it sure has been an adventure and God has been right there with me. I’ve learned about compassion and kindness from an unlikely person.

“Insomuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” Matthew 25:40.

May your Christmas have as much richness and blessings as mine!

Merry Christmas!

The Wisdom of the Third Grade

It was the last day before Christmas break and a warm one. I was wary of what mood the kids were in that morning as their sub teacher. You never know how it’s going to go and every day is different.

It started with one of the kids making the President’s table and she ran out of the room. It was Kendra; a shy girl with her hair all tied up in braids. We all stood to say the Pledge of Allegiance and I sang to them the Star Spangle Banner.

Next, I checked her lesson plans and, to my delight, I saw that we would be watching the Polar Express; one of my favorite Christmas movies. First, they had to do 5 different Polar Express puzzles. Most of them finished quickly except for two boys who were behind the rest all day. However, I patiently helped both of them to keep up.

After this, the special education teacher came in to teach them their fractions. She fussed a lot and was very exacting, but the kids liked her. Next, we ate lunch. Then, we came back to the room and finished the fraction packet and prepared to watch the movie.

I had Ms. Burrows from next door turn on the Smart Board and she got it on the right channel for me. Then, like magic, the movie began. Everyone changed into their pajamas and got their blankets and pillows to lie on the floor. I gave each of them a golden ticket as per the teacher’s instructions. Midway through the movie, I gave them a Christmas Tree Little Debbie cupcake and a few white chocolate pretzels. I ate a few pretzels myself.

Finally, the movie was done. We met together to discuss it and put some strips in sequence. I asked them a few questions about it. We discussed the truth and reality of God and Santa Claus. Finally, I asked them how we got the idea of giving gifts. I was expecting them to say “the three wise men”.  However, instead, Kendra raised her hand eagerly.

“I know! I know!” She yelled, her shyness temporarily overcome. “God gave us the gift of Jesus, his Son.”

It was a good answer and the wisdom of Third Grade shined through!

And her answer was so true. Jesus is the greatest gift ever and we must live our lives in the light of his love. He was born in a manger, worshipped by lowly shepherds and died on the cross for our sins. What other person in history ever came even close to Him?

So have a great Christmas! Keep believing…and trust in Him to see you through another year!

Love,

Laura