I happened upon them innocently.
I visited my grandparents back in October and I admit that I was probably slightly-more-than-half-motivated to make the trip by the promise of Ranger merchandise at the local Arlington Academy Sports.
(I was not disappointed)
You may have learned by now, though, that for me, half the fun of life in general is the stuff out of left field. (that was an intended pun). Often, then, what motivates me takes back seat to what I stumble upon and while this principle sometimes leads to an above average amount of stubbed toes in a lifetime, the good news is that whatever I was headed towards in a rush rarely compares to that treasure I find under the couch as I writhe in pain on the floor. (In today's case, that was a $20 bill... that belonged to the 8 year old... that will belong to me if I find it again... he's been warned).
(he's taking this warning very seriously, rest assured).
That was a metaphor, I think. Kind of hard to tell.
Oh, yes.
I stumbled upon these letters (see what's confusing is that I used a physical metaphor to parallel a figure of speech, so they're running together a bit). And while the Ranger gear was nice and put to good use* I came away with a much better, more meaningful reward for time well-invested.
*by this I mean we wore it a lot, not that wearing it achieved the good outcome for which we hoped, meaning a series win.
There I was by my lonesome on the second floor of my grandparents home, which is usually swirling with the activity of at least 3 other people during any given stay. Turns out, one of the unanticipated rewards for making a solo mission trip to Meme and J.D.'s is deep sleep on the fluffy queen bed ALL TO YOURSELF.
(recommended).
Being me I thought, "I bet she has some pictures in that there closet!" and, being me, I proceeded to search out all things sentimental.
(as an aside, this is the coolest closet ever! [keep in mind it doesn't really take much with me.] it has one of those bookshelf doors commonly used to hide Anastasia or Jews in WWII or for beasting at hide and seek. The last intended purpose cited is the reason Meme gives for not telling Luke, Emily and I about it until our late teenage years, fearing we'd get stuck or scared or fall through the attic space or something. Whatever her reason, it apparently wasn't important enough to maintain secrecy from our younger cousins as I found out in a recent visit with said younger cousins that they've known about it all their lives. So that's probably where they were when I gave up at seeking and popped in an old Columbo VHS, assuming I shouldn't check the forbidden closet space since it was presented to me as a black hole for children that was sworn to secrecy. Whatever, I'm over it.)
In this quest, I found the hundreds of handwritten letters between my grandfather and his first wife, who died of cancer many years ago. I didn't read much of the content, as that felt intrusive, even to this girl, single-minded with regards to sentiment seeking. But I admired the penmanship, regularity, regard, and encouragement put into those letters.
This truly was their texting. (as in, it's actually not something they say to sound older and cooler. go figure).
I flipped through the first box quickly, enchanted by this great aunt of mine I never got to know. She had a no-nonsense approach that you might not expect of that stereotypical girls-only-college Mississippi girl. But she was also sweet. And just when the sheer number of the letters had me thinking she might have been on the verge of, dare I say, clingy, I opened the second box.
There lay a sea of familiar handwriting.
"His handwriting is the same," I thought to myself. Then came that thought, the one that connects the past with the present, the one that's always inclined me towards history. He is the same.
He's different, of course. Different than that man working the Texas oil business in the 1950s, going steady with the Mississippi girl he met at the orphanage. He's different, a lot is different and all that in between is intriguing, too. But what sticks with me is how this man who will serve me breakfast in the morning with a blessing that includes a request for the Lord to forgive us where we fail, who'll pull out a paper he's saved about a story he knows will interest me, who'll joke about Meme's cooking and sub-par ability to back out of the garage, who'll sigh and gasp at the Ranger game, who'll count the money at church and rush back to say goodbye and insist it was his pleasure to have me for the weekend; this man was my age once.
Writing letters and figuring out the future and finding his way in faith.
I see this box and think of the commitment he and Joan put into the present. All the hours in 1951 hunched by the lamp before the dorm mistress called lights out, time spent scrawling promises and musings after a night out with all the other company men making a living in West Texas.
And then I see myself and how sometimes I keep from making commitments or scrawling promptings at present because a lot of the time I feel like I have an elementary grasp on life. Like my 80 year old self will just look back and laugh at these pursuits anyway, because isn't that what young, single 20 year olds do? Take it for granted, their youth and they dream grandiose dreams and live it up with little regard for consequence or impending personal responsibilities, much less societal impact?
I know I have some stumbling yet to do in life that will leave me looking back at my scribbles and engagements thinking, "what she didn't know was..." Some stumbling I can maybe avoid, some that's out of my hands, and some that'll just be the result of carelessness. It's coming and I don't fear it. Because the thing is that stumbling in life isn't for stumbling's sake, it's usually a grand opportunity to come upon something new, yet unlearned. No, I don't fear the stumbling. I fear speaking boldly now, putting pen to paper because of how juvenile it will seem in light of future wisdom gleaned from the stumbling.
That might not make sense. I guess it's just intimidating to think of confidently expressing the metaphorical place I'd like to hurry off to because what I truly desire is to find the $20 bills-under-the-couches of life. That probably didn't actually help, seeing as how the point of this paragraph was to clarify. I'll start a new one!
In stumbling upon J.D.'s letters I realized something: that man, the one in the letters with the future to look forward to, he makes me respect the one I sat next to in the pew on an October Sunday in 2011 so much more. They are the same man, and the integrity is intriguing. He couldn't have known the future of oil or Joan's health or baseball in Texas. And I am so glad he didn't punish himself for an ignorance he could not help by keeping pen and paper shelved. He wrote confidently about what he knew and faithfully about what he didn't.
I believe in the power of the written word. There is much to be said about seeing sentiments spelled out. And so I begin my quest to do so more often, this practice of writing confidently what I know and faithfully what I don't. Not so much in terms of blogging, but in sharing words on paper with friends and family, in cards and letters and jotted notes of what they mean to me and how they help me learn life. And even sometimes I write for myself-- I've gotten started with this on my desk, jotting down quotes of friends and verses that remind me not to be intimidated by future, wiser me.
I'm not even promised her.
Just today me.
It's all I can be.
God knows that.
It's all He asks for.
"for attaining wisdom and discipline; for understanding words of insight;
for acquiring a disciplined and prudent life, doing what is right and just and fair;
for giving prudence to the simple, knowledge and discretion to the young--
let the wise listen and add to their learning.,
and let the discerning get guidance--
for understanding proverbs and parables,
the sayings and riddles of the wise. The fear of the Lord is the beginning
of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and discipline."
-Proverbs 1:2-7
"you have given all so we give all...
... thank you for daily bread...
...all is grace...
...and grace enough."
"stand in awe,
and sin not,
and be still.
Selah"
-Psalm 4:4
"i am so blessed. I should really chill out."
"it will be brilliant. or it will totally fail and crash and burn.
either way it will be an experience."
"because kind words are like honey,
sweet to the soul and healthy for the body."
-Proverbs 16:24
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