It is funny how the titles come to me that take me back to years ago. The good ole beans and cornbread, probably quite the dinner bowl in the southern parts of the states. I was raised with them but now rarely make them, although I do enjoy when I do make or eat them.
Back when I was dating my husband, I was questioning everything and the pros and the cons. Should I marry him? There was a hesitancy, but he truly treated me well, unlike other guys I dated. Of course, that surely had to be a sign from God. Right? Little things added up and some things did not but taking a step in marriage is a BIG STEP.
Since my mom always made beans and cornbread through the years to feed all the mouths in our family and company, I mentioned to her one evening that this man I was dating, now for years, loves beans and cornbread. Her advice was that if I can find a man who loves beans and cornbread, he is a winner. Well, I married him.
Then I realized that I made beans and cornbread quite often, to the point I hated them, which is one reason today that I do not make them. It has been years. I can make a good pot of beans, or I used to. Cornbread was not bad either, especially fried. At one point in my small family, I cooked and baked quite a bit. Now things look different in my home, with the boys on their own and my husband living with his mother, caring for her. So, the beans and cornbread, never simmer or are enjoyed but they have been on my mind, which is why I am writing. Maybe for old-time sake, I should make a pot. Maybe tomorrow, maybe not.
Let me know if you have had or enjoy beans and cornbread. Country cooking at its finest.
Yes, I am old. Older than I thought I would ever be in life. How did this happen? Just a few years back, I was in my twenties and now, near retirement in a few years. Soon, I will be reading up more and concentrating on Medicare and all that it has for me. Time. Where did it go? It went so fast.
As I look back over my life, a lot has happened, as I am sure with you also. Then as I look over my life and go through the memories, good and bad, no wonder I am exhausted at times. I am tired. Still, I have energy to do things, just not as fast. What I miss is being able to paint a room in hours but now it takes days and weeks, I do not rush. When I painted my bedroom a few years back, which is not huge but big enough, I learned to paint and just plop my mattress on the floor. Trimming is hard on this old body and my eyes, not to forget the steadiness of my hand. Oh well, soon it gets finished, and I vow never to do it again.
I am able to do stuff, as I am push mowing our yard with a bummed knee. Once I start, I am fine but if I sit down and take a break, give me some WD40 to get this old tinman/woman back up and at ’em. I am sure my neighbors see a lot of hobbling and grimaces on my face and maybe hear me either sing or comment out loud that I want a condo, forget this lawn work. If anything will push me to sell this house, it is the yard. Hiring a young man to do the back acre lot, he is pushing my buttons. The boy can spread mulch great but his weed eating skills, not so much. It is letting go of what I can no longer do and just be at peace with the weeds around my fence line, unless I do it myself. I have done just that, pay him and gone right behind him to fix areas to my satisfaction.
So, as days are rapidly escaping my calendar, I do seem to cherish life more being with friends and family, and I make my children more aware of my love and trust in them. It is time to keep them informed of what we have financially and where necessary paperwork is for when life is no more for us. It is an interesting role reversal as this takes place, but I do not want them to be in the dark as we have been with my in-laws. We knew nothing at the time of my father-in-law’s death just a couple of months ago. There comes a time when adult children need to know what’s what and know our wishes. Although, I have most of my funeral plans written out so it should be rather easy. If my husband is still living, there is strict instructions, he is NOT to put yellow roses on my casket. While I like yellow roses, they are not my favorite but apparently, he always thought they were because that is what I got whenever I did get flowers, early in our marriage. I still think it was an old girlfriend’s favorite that got stuck in his mind. I want pink roses!
Today, as I was with my adult children going to a family wedding, we were talking about some old paintball guns that I still have of theirs, which brought back their own young days in life. I laughed as I told them that I still have them. Then, stating you all will have fun when you go through all the stuff. Organized but stored away to hopefully bring them together to talk and laugh of all the fun they had and remember their old mom in the midst.
For now, I am enjoying my adult children and it is awesome to have a relationship with them in the present. I have truly been blessed with these boys and a daughter-in-law. Maybe another daughter-in-law to follow with built-in grandchildren. Now that will be an interesting twist, but I am looking forward to spoiling them.
Life sure has been interesting. I have been blessed and even in the midst of all my blessings, I have had some hard times and times of wanting to just throw my hands up and quit. I am so glad that I did not just give up but I pushed through. The Lord has truly been my strength in my weakness. He said He would never leave me nor forsake me, and He hasn’t. My time is running out but for now I am running with what gusto that I have left within this body.
Look forward, not backward and know that even though our time is running out, we still have time to live.
Today, as I listened to Reba McIntyre talk about her dad and how she never heard him tell her that he loved her growing up, laughing and brushing it off, I felt sad. What was it about that generation that did not say they loved their children? I know it must have hurt her even though she understood him. All children need to hear I Love You. I try to grasp what that generation was thinking, perhaps how they were raised. Did they not hear I Love You and figured that was the right way to raise their children or were they told too much and definitely did not want to repeat the same, which I really doubt. Maybe they were never told I Love You, so they lived a life of figuring they were loved, or also doubting of their parent’s love.
Had I heard those three words growing up, it sure would have saved me a lot of time and money in counseling. While that was not the main purpose of counseling, it played a big part of my life, a missing part. I discovered that I felt unlovable and not knowing even that until the counselor helped me see the dots connected. Something was just missing. Thank God she picked up on what I said and expressed of my childhood and adulthood.
While I, too, understood, I missed that part of truly knowing. Of course, they loved me, I am their child. RIght? Then again, I was an oopsie and did they regret me more than love me, which was a thought I often had. No, they loved me. It was just not part of them to express, and I have to remember that was just the way it was for them back then. How sad though that a child has to wonder such facts that should be an important part of growth.
Some will immediately state, of course, you were loved, as you had a roof over your head, shoes on your feet and food on the table. True! Is it that hard to say I Love You though to your own flesh and blood?
One thing, I learned of never hearing I Love You was to always tell my children that I love them. They never leave or hang up the phone call without their mom saying, I Love You. In turn, they tell me that they love me, which means the world to me. Maybe I run it in the ground too much whenever we leave one another, as I have thought, but how can one not enjoy hearing those three words. If I was to leave this world or they would, I want them to never have to guess or wonder if I loved them, vice versa. My heart beats for them, more than they will ever know. The last words, no matter when, I Love You!
I am sure in my parent’s heart, it beat for me, but my heart was broken many times when growing up, playing the guessing game if I truly was loved. Sadly, growing up never hearing, I never said those words to them either. Even though, they cared for me and at the end of their lives, I cared for them. That’s love!
It is understanding but yet forgiving them and myself of what did not happen in order to go on and know deep within that they loved me, and I loved them.
Never miss the opportunity to reassure those in your life of your appreciation, pay a compliment and put a positive word in their life and the most important is, I Love You.
Just Pondering... 