I look forward to sleep, as my dreams become almost real. I cannot imagine my life without dreams, seeing and understanding things and especially those I love. A brief instance of a conversation maybe, a few words or the embrace of a hug. I smile, I cry when I remember my dream and when so powerful, I write them down Today, I have done all that and to share. I don’t want to forget. I needed this visit, even if just in a dream.
“Hello. You look beautiful.” I said this to you. Your white hair and white blouse, you just glowed, as I saw you in my dream and we talked briefly. You leaned in to touch my arm with a smile, as in you missed me, too, and soon we hugged. It’s been such a long time. I do miss you.
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.
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... 