Livin' Small

I sit here in the early morning of the midpoint of Libby’s and my vacation.  We’re calling for a bit of down time today.  So I sitting here looking at my Facebook page and realize I have 588 “friends”.  I remember when I started this silly social thing asking myself how could anyone amass these large “friend” lists?

Several years later now and looking back I can see how it’s done.  Everyone we meet in life we leave an impression from some aspect of our life on someone else.  There are family and friends of a personal level.  There are co-workers, church family.  There are friends that spring up from our mutual likes, such as cars or music.  There are so many ways to develop friends of whatever we encounter.

Life tends to change as well.  Who we once were and who we are now folds over pages in our lives that covers up friends from our past and reveals friends of out present.

I sit and think of probably the most enduring friendships were made while in school.  I didn’t realize that years later I would reconnect with so many of them.  When you’re from a school that contained all twelve grades in one building you tend to get to know everyone no matter what grade.  Although age at the time may be a deciding factor as to whether you are “buddies” or not, later in life age becomes a backseat partner in the ride of life.  We grew up together.

Church.  I spent the large part of my adult life in a church where people came and went like water under a bridge.  Thirty years I sat under a ministry that taught me a lot about God, others and myself.  From that I’ve learned in Bibilical principles has changed me most of all.  From a young man with self in the forefront to one who cares more for people than I ever figured I could achieve.  The people from this time have been kept in my heart because I saw the highs and lows of many who found freedom or found their disdain for the same.  I defeated my biggest fear of standing before people to speak.  I fear no man when I stand to speak the Word of God.  It is He who speaks through me.  What I allow through my mouth is not my own, so I learned the consequences of what I say, as long as my heart is pure in it, are heard and either accepted or rejected.  It’s not me the people react to.  It’s God they react to.  But I’m rambling.

Work.  I’ve worked many jobs and connected with far more people than likely any other avenue.  From construction to where I am now sends my mind through a plethora of faces and names.  This includes my military time as well.  I’m sure anyone with military in their past can say there are a lot of people we made some degree of contact with, even if briefly.  Where I work has had a cosmic effect on me.  I’ve been at the Naval Hospital going on thirty years in the same building.  I’ve seen most everyone I worked with back then leave into retirement, go to another place of work or unfortunately die.  The ones who have died leave me with a much more sober look at life.  A handful of them had become close friends.

What can I say?  Well.  I’m trying to reconnect and connect with people from my past who mean or should mean a lot to me.  Some of them are “fringe” friends.  Some I’ve never met personally, yet I feel, as my wife does as well, are as close to me as if I’d known them from just down the street.  Here’s just a couple that come to mind, so don’t be offended if you read this and didn’t get mentioned.  You have to pardon my “old man” memory.  Chad and Nicole and their son Cash.  They live in Minnesota and we’ve never met in person, but they feel to us (Libby and me) as close as friends can be.  Trish Brooke, with whom Libby and I met through blogging as well seems like someone who shares our own likes and dislikes.

Libby and I have developed our own set of friends since our divorces.  When we married finally I had no idea we could draw a crowd of eighty people.  But we did.  That was amazing to me that that many people would take time out of their busy schedules to come and enjoy Libby’s and my marriage.  God bless ’em.

I can’t do justice to what my thoughts are on this subject.  My mind is too full.

One thing I thank God for is my relationship with my younger son.  I just wish my older son could give up on the bitterness he hordes against me.  I’m sure back then I hurt people, but I was diagnosed back then with anxiety attacks and severe depression.  I no longer have these issues and feel solidly on my feet as I enter the last years of life.  God has allowed me to lay a solid foundation under me with people who care about me and would help in times of need.  I have no fear of growing old.  I have Libby to count as my biggest blessing in life.  If I may be so crude she’s the closest most loving woman I’ve ever known who has vowed to wipe my butt when I can’t for myself if it comes to that.

That may sound like I’ve lost my mind, but I remember when my step-grandfather was in the final stages of Alzheimer’s I stopped in one day to see him and my grandmother of 78 years old.  She asked me to help her change his diaper.  Such dedication to someone you love is hard to find sometimes.  I think you get the picture.  She lived to serve him.  She was hospitalized a couple of weeks or so after his death and she died not long after in the hospital.  She told me she was tired, but I knew she was not going to leave Jamie without someone who cared for him as long as he was alive.

Friends.  I have many in all the stages of knowing who they are and what they mean to me, but I care for them all the same.  Except for Libby, of course.  Here I go.  She’s my number one.  No one can or will hold a light to her and darken her image to me.  I count her as being sent from God to preserve my life to a longer life so that I can serve Him still.

God bless all my friends no matter who you are.

Physically we grow old. Period. Think about that for a minute.

Okay. You’re minute is up.

What else did you think about when you were contemplating that statement above? Perhaps you thought I may be growing physically old, but mentally I’m still quite capable of committing teenage acts of craziness.

I’m to be sixty-five years old next month. Don’t let me ever hear you say I’m sixty-five years young. That’s BS, plain and simple. I’m 65 years OLD physically and this old body ain’t what it used to be. My wife, Libby, has repeatedly told me that growing old sucks. Yes it does. The “Golden Years” to me only means I might need Depends.

But I don’t intend to go down without enjoying the years she and I have left. We laugh, we cry, we do things together and we talk about everything. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is hid from each other. She is the only person that I have told everything I have done that is life-altering or eventful. Libby is the one person with whom I have shared even my deepest, darkest secrets. I trust her.

With that said, we intend to grow old together. We share each other’s lives. When one is down the other is there to lift up the spirit. We pray for each other. That’s something that I admittedly didn’t do in my previous marriage. I won’t go into why I think that’s the case. It’s my statement of fact. It just did not happen.

Libby and I are mentally very much younger than we appear. We still hold hands everywhere we go. People have even complimented us or commented that people should still do that more often. To me, touch is an important function between two people. We kiss each other before we get out of the car. Don’t ask why, we just do. I have been known to pat her on the butt in Wal-Mart or any other public place if I feel like it. She gives me that big smile and says, did you just touch my butt? I’ll say yes, what are you going to do about it? Then she’ll smile real big. HA!  Sometimes we just stop and look each other in the eyes to see what’s inside.  The windows of the soul do say a lot.

In our heart and soul we’re still young. That’s what we are. That’s what we do. It’s us thumbing our nose at the grim reaper and pushing him off to the distant future.

One of my cousin’s husband posted a picture that so aptly applies to Libby and me. I had to pull that picture into my album. It makes me think of Libby and me. I’m thinking this is something we ought to do. I don’t care how old you are; maybe you ought to consider it. How young do you feel? How young at heart do you want to be?

I haven’t written much lately. Life has been a challenge when you have to make changes that aren’t necessarily things you want to do.

I’ve been separated from my ex for over six years and due to a large amount of obstacles to overcome it’s been impossible to make the goals I set down as reachable. But considering the nature of life I’ve adopted many years ago I’ve learned to work even harder to get there.

I was mixed up in my mind for several years in my mid to late fifties and whether anyone wants to admit it or not I felt totally out of control. I do admit to making several mistakes and I’ve paid for them in full. Depression and anxiety attacks are not recommended for the faint-of-heart. Some of you may even know what I’m talking about.

My marriage was dissolving before my very eyes and although I played my part badly, I was left with several thousand dollars of debt I didn’t create. I still do not have an answer as to how or why it happened. In fact, I had no idea it was happening. It was kept from me by my ex. In all honesty I can’t blame her entirely for it. I had maintained a set of blinders to the situation, not wanting to know what my financial situation was. I would ask was all in order and was told yes. I took her word on it and turned a blind eye.

After we separated I fought hard to get my head back together and found myself in a relationship with another woman that was probably not the best thing to do in some ways only by when it happened more than how it happened.

I had started studying divorce at least a year before I actually left. I just couldn’t see the feasibility of leaving at the time. Libby was more of a catalyst in helping me realize I had to follow through with it. She didn’t steal me, coerce me or anything. Our talks led us to a conclusive agreement that we should both go to our respective places and try to make that work, but over time we found that we could not deal with going back to our spouses.

I knew after counseling I was in need of long-term help and I sought it as much as possible and with medication I have found with time I’m more of a sound individual than I’ve ever been in my entire life. Trying to live with my ex would not have done any good for either of us. I could spend a good while writing about why I know this, but let’s just leave it at that for another time.

Libby came back into my life on a full time basis. I have cried many times on her shoulder and she has always been a comfort to me. Always. Never has she turned me away and is always there when I need her. I have found it very easy for me to love her and be there for her. I can read her like a book. She can say something that reminds me of the lyrics of a song and I’ll sing a bit of it and she’ll join in. Seems she knows all the songs I know. Over time I found I cannot be a day without her. She is my constant companion. If you see me, you see her.

It’s been six years and this past Friday the marriage came to an end in court. It was a simple, procedural function where I swore on the stand that I was agreeing to the terms. In just a minute at most I heard the gavel come down as the judge said “Divorce granted” as I stepped down from the witness stand. I am now a free man again.

It’s my hope my ex can move on with her life and find whatever or who she can lean on for support. In short, she’ll deserve whatever she makes of her life from here on.

The past is just that. The past. Now for a future.

I called Libby and told her all was said and done. When I said I was a free man, I meant it. I freely have taken on the responsibility of Libby. She’s my friend first, then companion, my confidant. Most of all the fore things mentioned equals the sum of what our love for each other is. She is truly my lover.

Instead of all the juicy details of a love life I place here the less intimate things. I enjoy cooking for her. I help her clean house. We have been remodeling the house together. She helps keep the garden cleaned up and I make sure the plants are healthy as possible. I do keep the yard mown and trimmed. She plants flowers and such and “decorates” the yard as well.

Then there are the evenings where we have recorded programs we like from TV. We’ll eat our dinner together and many times she’ll finish and rest her head on my shoulder and lightly snore while I keep tabs on the programs we watch so I can catch her up if need be.
A very, very important thing between us is that we communicate. We talk. We talk all the time. We have early mornings to go to work, so we try to go to bed early, usually by eight or so, but we end up talking some evenings till ten or so. She’s very smart and inquisitive about all aspects of life. She hears God speak and she’ll ask me what I think or can I explain something. I listen to her carefully. I learn from her as well. This aspect of our relationship is a testament of how we’ve come so far and still love each other as it were the first time we met. She has dove into my life wanting to know every detail. She really wants to know how I tick. I can read her like a book. She thinks about everything in depth, yet she can be impulsive. I thought people who analyze things are slower to make a decision, but she’s different this way. It’s not a dig on her. It’s just who she is. I love her just the way she is. I hope she never changes.

So. Why this writing? On the 24th of July 2015, she and I will get married. I’ve learned from past experience that marriage isn’t something to take lightly. It’s not something to jump right into. Come on. We’ve been together for a long time now and I know we’re meant to be together. If I could have changed the past, I would have, but God knows what I needed and all the water under the bridge has gone forever. Today is a new day. Libby. I can’t describe her with words. She just is.

She is to me everything I have ever wanted in a companion. My life event? To marry my partner.

I laid down on my bed last night and just soaked in all the new freshness of a completely redone room. It felt so good. I just wish the rest of the house was the same. It will happen.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror last evening as I thought. . . I have a few good years left on this earth. I want to make it a better time to enjoy the fruits of my labors. I don’t know how much longer before I start having issues that will take away freedom to enjoy life to the fullest. I’ve lost three of my brothers. All younger than me. I don’t question why I’m still here and in decent health. The matters of the world can go to hell. Just leave me alone and let me be. I don’t feel like today, tomorrow, next week, month or year will be “that” time. I just know I want to enjoy life a little more than the work-a-day world.

The politics of the world, the struggles of the few to be leaders for whatever reason, the power hungry can all do whatever they want, but their own devices will sooner or later catch up to them and they’ll pay for whatever it is they do, no matter if it be good or bad. I can worry myself into a corner, but why should I? I have to live to my best and make my own way to peace for myself.

I just plain feel it’s time to slow down from the faster pace of “doing” all the time.  I’m reminded of a verse in the Bible that says:

. . .For bodily exercise profiteth little: but godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come.  – I Tim 4:8

Peace comes from within the spirit and soul.  Taking care of the body is of little value compared to obtaining that peace.

Walking up from my garage this morning elicited new thoughts. I haven’t moved for 27 years until a month ago. I have known for years the voice of God and also the open door principle.

I felt the urging some time ago to look at this house Lib and I are now in. I played with the thought for some time, but placed it off the table. Then mid-November the prodding came afresh. I told Lib to let’s take a closer look at this house. I called the agent and set up a showing. We found it had been built in 1973. It is brick and is solid. It had been mildly updated, but much updating is still needed in the kitchen, dining and hallway. The doors needed new knobs, but really the whole set of inside doors should be replaced. The flooring was done with a very cheap grade of laminate wood grain flooring. The baseboards, quarter round and door facings had been replaced by someone with just enough experience to cut a piece of wood. They didn’t know much about a measuring tape, though. The bathroom had been completely overhauled with a new tub and it was very fresh and with functional tub, toilet, cabinet and vanity. But the walls are not very likeable. The trim was amateurish. The flooring was not level and upon inspection we found sometime joists had been attacked by termites, but had been repaired and treated. There were other floor joists that needed new supports, which I had the owner repair before purchase. The previous owner had had new double pane windows installed, but two already had that foggy look and I had them fix those as well.

Sounds like I should have walked away from the needs this house has, but here’s what happened. Lib wanted the house and I did as well for the fact that it has a half-acre yard with a huge unattached garage and paved driveway. I later found the garage was once a welding shop business by the previous owner. He and his wife had passed on and the children were selling it as sort of an estate sale. They, being the owners then, were willing to sell at a giveaway price. It had been reduced by ten thousand dollars. All I will say is when I heard the selling price I was astounded to find it well under $100 grand.

Looking at the state of the house and the state of my previous home didn’t take much for Lib and I to agree to offer whatever the owners were asking. Problem was the day we looked at it we found there was another interested party. Problem one. Yet I felt to go ahead with the offer.

Later that day I was told to secure the offer I would need to get approved for the loan. That was not a problem. The next morning after church Lib and I went to a mortgage loan representative and were approved on the spot. We stopped by on the way back home to look at the inside of the garage and the realty agent told me then that the other prospective party had declined to place a bid. Now it was up to Lib and me.

Monday morning was a holiday from work, so I had gone out to get something to eat at the local Piggly Wiggly and decided to stop at my neighbor’s business across the street. When I asked him was he interested he looked at me like I was pulling his leg and it took several acknowledgements to get him to believe I wasn’t. He asked me how much and I told him. On the spot he offered to buy at the price I asked. Deal. I’d made an offer, gotten approved and sold my house in a span of three days. On the fourth day I was moving out of my house into this house.  I had told Libby when God moves He can move quickly so she should be prepared.

The provocation to look at this house again was God speaking to me. Once I looked and spoke what I was hearing, things happened so quickly Libby could not believe it. Doors opened left and right. We’ve been in this house paying rent to live here from the middle of November until closing and now for almost a month since closing.

Surprisingly I do not miss my two acres down the road seven tenths of a mile. I feel very much at home here. I’m sitting in my living room tapping this out on my laptop while the Contemporary Christian music channel plays on Pandora, feeling the blessing of God upon this house.

It’s the little things that count as well, which to some would seem not important and

Veteran’s Day Parade in Morehead City NC

material. I gave up a 1955 BelAir Chevy when I gave my heart to God in 1977 because I felt Him tell me it was my god. It was a true statement. Now all those years later I feel that owning the car I’d always wanted was a gift and now I have a garage to put it in and cover it up so I can take it out and drive it and enjoy it. And Libby and I do enjoy it with the top down breezing down the highway.

Still Libby has a nice car and I have yet an old beater of an S10 for hauling stuff around in. We both have wonderful jobs and I hope to retire the end of this year.

I know there are people who think they hurt me because I hurt them, but in reality I can’t be hurt. The love of God is strong on and in me. I have forgiven them. I release them to God. Libby and I are recognized for our love for each other in our church and we’ve developed new friends and we have become a part of the community of Richlands. In all the years I’ve lived here I’ve not felt that till we moved into this house just a month ago. Strange as it may seem, I’d never felt this way.

Yes, I admit my decisions hurt some people close to me, but I’ve found from other friends and family that their viewpoint was I was not a well man then. To me I was in a fight for my life. I knew I was dying and I had to get out of it. I made only one mistake. Not having done it sooner.

So my thought as I walked up from the garage this morning? It is that I’m “home” for the first time in a long time and I have the love of a woman who truly knows unconditional love and demands nothing of me, but to be myself. I ask nothing of her other than to not change who she is. She’s everything I pictured in my early teens when I asked God what my wife would be like. I can’t marry her as yet because of the liberality with which the judge meted out “punishment” on me in alimony to my previous relationship. Under the laws of the state of NC I am bound to that, but my heart is unbound in the realm of the spirit and I have all I ever wanted in life and cannot be brought down, not because of me, but by the help and blessings of God am I standing. That’s my thoughts this morning.

Christmas is a holiday that for years I have not celebrated. What?? I did a lot of research in history, Biblically and historically. I settled on one fact. If we cannot celebrate His birth everyday, we missed the need for his life. . . to die as a sacrifice for each one of us individually.

Libby has a problem with me on that. Of course He was born. It was well recorded in all aspects except one. When. Only by supposition do we get an idea of when. I chose to thank Him each day for His birth. I do enjoy the Christmas themes and such. I will even give gifts and enjoy family, such as it is this time of year. We have a blow-up snowman in our yard, wreath on the door. There’s a tree in one room with gifts under it.

My beliefs are mine. Yours are yours and I respect all who do celebrate Christmas. I’m coming around to some degree.

To the retail world though it’s their bread and butter so advertising starts now before Halloween and there’s Black Friday and now the Black Saturday, the week before Christmas. People fighting over gifts, news reports on sales and all for what? It’s all in the name of Christ’s birth. I feel alone sometimes in this belief of mine, but still I hold onto the need for people to know EVERY day is a fresh new day to know of His birth. . .and death.