Gues Who's Coming To Dinner

I love that my adults like to invite friends to spend time with us. That's one of the qualities I enjoy most about my son-in-law Dave. From the very beginning of their marriage they've always welcomed friends (or as Wendy calls them--"her boys")into their home. In the beginning it was single Marines that they'd invite to share a meal, a weekend, or a holiday. "The boys" were always welcome because Wendy & Dave would open their home as a refuge from "the barracks".  Now it's any number of friends who are invited to be here with us.

Tonight is one of the nights when Dave has invited friends for dinner. I am cooking, but I don't have a definite number of guests and I don't know for certain who is coming. In the past this would have driven me completely crazy because I was just that person who had to be in control of the situation at all times. I wanted the house to look perfectly spotless. The food to be served had to be something out of the ordinary. The children three girls) had to be scrubbed clean and dressed impeccably with not a hair out of place! Today I have cleaned a little, but the house isn't Marine Barracks perfect. The children are now adults and are in charge of their own attire and cleanliness. The food on the menu is a little out of the ordinary, but it's nothing stupendously special (slow cooker smothered pork chops, mashed potatoes, tomato, zucchini, summer squash "casserole <i left out the potatoes>, and 4-layer cream cheese, pudding dessert). There is no panic over how many or who is coming for dinner. It will be fun just to have friends here who enjoy being in our home. That's something I've learned from my friend Crissy. I don't have to be in control! So, who's coming for dinner? I don't know and it's not a big deal!

Here's the postcard:

Dear Friend,

Guests coming for dinner. Can't wait to see who arrives to share the evening with us! Can you imagine Brenda being ok with not knowing every single detail? She's learned from her Southern friends to just open the door and let folks into her home...and heart. It's relationships that make life special!
Always,

Tilly

What If It's Not About You?

Difficult circumstances brought me to Alabama. After neglecting to treat my diabetes for nearly ten years, I paid the price by having a health crisis that left me unable to care for myself for a period of time. My youngest daughter was still living with me at the time, however; she was ill-equipped to handle me on her own. The three girls plus my son-in-law decided that I should move to live with my oldest daughter and son- in-law until I was able to be on my own again. That was June, 2010; it's now May, 2013. I am still living with them here in Alabama. The circumstances have changed a little, but they're still not easy.

I arrived here angry and depressed and only thinking of the situation as to how it affected me! I was angry with God about my circumstances and angry with Him because of many hurts in the past. I was depressed because I just knew  I was brought here to die and no one wanted to tell me. I was depressed because I had left two of my daughters in Ohio. Depressed and angry barely covers it. I was catatonic. One friend now readily admits to asking someone what was wrong with me meaning more like "Is she mentally challenged or handicapped?"I had lost quite a bit of weight, had  very low blood pressure, a catheter and was having problems eating and drinking. I was unable to see to drive and even if I could I was out in the middle of nowhere with even more nowhere to go! All I could see was that it was all about poor Brenda once again.
 
My life since then has changed drastically and there is a reason for those changes. My life and health have improved in many ways. Gone is the anger with God about where I am now. I have a new relationship with Him that I never knew was possible. There is a freedom in that relationship. I have been taught and am learning the gift of grace. The depression over my health is gone for the most part; I still have times when a small pity party takes place in my head. I have friends and a church where I feel loved and useful. I was floored when my friend (and dear neighbor) Crissy said I have a "dynamic" ministry because I just feel so much more ministered to than I could ever feel as though I've ministered to others. The changes have been so radical that my mom was in tears on the phone one day as she said that she hears the difference in my voice when we talk on the telephone. I didn't make those radical changes on my own; Christ & the gospel are the reasons for the changes.

I read a book recently titled "The Wedding Dress" which is coincidentally set in the Birmingham area. The story follows a young woman who owns a bridal store; she finds a vintage wedding dress and begins to track down the previous wearers of the dress. She finds one bride who wore the dress to marry her about to be sent to VietNam groom. The young bride's groom would never return alive from the war and his body was never able to be recovered, so she felt as if she never had a chance to touch his face and say good-bye. She's very angry with God even years later. They have a conversation in which the now older woman says that God  knew her beloved was going to die and He let her marry him anyway. The heroine replies with "What if marrying Joel wasn't about you?...What if marrying Joel was about sending a young man off to war, loved, happy, comforted by the ideas of warm fires and a beautiful wife waiting for him at home?...What if it was all about Joel? Only for Joel? What if God loved him so much that He gave him a bride before he died? Would that be ok with you?" What a concept! What happens to us may not be just about us, but other people, too?? If I had to put this lesson on a postcard it would read:

Dear Friend, 

I realize now that the past 3 years have not been all about me. My illness and depression have brought me to a place of PURPOSE! A place of service, ministry, joy, friendship, love, value, faith, and forgiveness.  A place that wasn't all about me.
Always,

Tilly

Grey's Anatomy Addison's Elevator mystery!

I've been swirling the idea of a blog around my head for quite awhile, but I always want to "wait until I have something great to say" to begin it. I finally decided to just jump in and, as the Nike catch phrase says, "Just do it." So, here I go!

I'll start with how I got the name "Tilly" and go from there. I have three daughters who for years have harassed me with what I'll be called when I'm a grandmother since I really dislike and can't fathom the idea of any grandmotherly names being attached to me. No Grandma, Granny, Nana, Meemaw, Mimi, or some other elder female title for me! I pondered the dilemma for quite some time when I happened upon the first episode of the "Grey's Anatomy" spin-off of "Private Practice". Addison is having personal issues and is seen several times in an elevator talking to herself when a female voice answers her; the voice turns out to be a not-so-sane woman who does security for the building and her name is Tilly. I had an AHA moment and informed my daughters I wanted to be called...Tilly. Fast forward about 5 years and I end up in Alabama where I am now called Tilly.

Tilly's life is much different than she thought it would be in Alabama. She often refers to herself in the third person and is able to compartmentalize the things Tilly does as being a little crazy and not part of Brenda's life. But, oh the life Tilly has now! I'm glad I'm along for the multi-layered and rich life she has! She.is.blessed.beyond.belief. I'll share some postcard images of that life with you as the days go by. Some of them may be brief "wish you were here" and some may be a longer "can you believe this one"

As I close my eyes and hit "Publish Post"  I'll leave you with this quote about postcards!

 “In those years before mobile phones, email and Skype, travelers depended on the rudimentary communications system known as the postcard. Other methods--the long-distance phone call, the telegram--were marked "For Emergency Use Only." So my parents waved me off into the unknown, and their news bulletins about me would have been restricted to "Yes, he's arrived safely,"and "Last time we heard he was in Oregon," and "We expect him back in a few weeks." I'm not saying this was necessarily better, let alone more character-forming; just that in my case it probably helped not to have my parents a button's touch away, spilling out anxieties and long-range weather forecasts, warning me against floods, epidemics and psychos who preyed on backpackers.”
― Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending