A BENEVOLENT QUAKERESS.*

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How few, like thee, inquire the wretched out,
And court the offices of soft humanity!
                                                            Rowe

Charity Rodman was born in Newport, Rhode Island in the year 1765. Her father was a sea-captain, and died at Honduras while she was in infancy. She married Thomas Rotch, of Nantucket, Massachusetts, on the sixth of June, 1790. Soon afterwards the Rotch family removed to New Bedford, where they have since distinguished themselves by their energy and uprightness of character, and their success in the mercantile business, being extensively engaged in the whale-fishery. Of some of them, as traffickers, it may be said, as it was of the merchants of Tyre in the days of her glory: “they are among the honorable of the earth.”

About the year 1801, Mrs. Rotch removed with her husband to Hartford, Connecticut, where she remained till 1811. She then, in a feeble state of health, and for its improvement, accompanied her husband on a journey through Ohio, and other parts of the West. The mildness of the winter was favorable to her constitution, and, restored to comfortable health, she returned to Hartford in the early part of the next summer. The following November she removed to Kendol, in Stark county, Ohio, near the site of the present village of Massillon.

There the mind of Mrs. Rotch, coöperating with the long cherished wishes of her heart, originated and matured plans for the establishment of a “school for orphan and destitute children.” Having traveled much, she had made extensive observations; and with an eye always open to the condition and wants of human kind, she early and often felt the force of a remark once made to her by an English friend: “That there were a great many children wasted in this country” -a painful truth, but no less applicable to Great Britain than to the United States.

Her husband died in 1823, and bequeathed to her, during life, his large and entire estate. His personal property was left in her hands to be disposed of as her philanthropic heart might dictate. This formed the basis of the school-fund which she left, and which, four or five years after her death, which occurred on the sixth of August, 1824, amounted to twenty thousand dollars. The interest of this sum has since purchased a farm of one hundred and eighty-five acres, one and a half miles from the village of Massillon, and erected, at a cost of five thousand dollars, a large brick edifice for educational and dwelling purposes which has been open seven years and which sustains forty pupils. The real and personal estate of the institution, is now estimated at thirty-five thousand dollars.

A class of ten pupils enter annually and remain four years. The school is established on the manual labor plan; and the boys are thoroughly instructed in the art of husbandry, and the girls in culinary duties and the manufacture of their own wearing apparel. Children enter between the ages of ten and fourteen, hence the youngest leave as advanced in life as their fifteenth year, a period when their habits of industry and their moral principles usually become too well established to be easily changed.

This school, founded by the benevolence of a single individual – a devout, yet modest and quiet member of the Society of Friends – is destined to become a source of inestimable blessings. Every half century, five hundred otherwise neglected plants in the garden of humanity, will there be pruned and nurtured, and strengthened for the storms of life; and many of them will doubtless be fitted to bear fruit here to the glory of God, and be finally transplanted to bloom in eternal youth in the gardens above.

The offspring of Christian philanthropy, the school will stand as a lasting memorial of woman’s worth. The highest ambition of its founder was to be a blessing to those who should come after her; and it may be said that while she did not live in vain, neither did she die in vain. Her death threw a legacy into the lap of orphanage, the benignant influence of which will long be felt.

The grave of Mrs. Rotch is overlooked by the monument of her munificence, but no marble nor enduring object marks the spot. Virtues like hers neither crave nor need chiseled words of praise; they are engraved on the hearts of the succored, to be remembered while those hearts continue to beat; and the feet of befriended children will keep a path open to the grave of their foster-mother, for ages.

* Some of the facts embodied in this article were gathered by the author while on a visit to Massillon, Ohio, in the summer of 1847, and were communicated to the public at that time through the columns of the Western Literary Messenger; others were lately and very obligingly furnished by Dr. William Bowen, of that place.

______

Excerpted from Noble Deeds of American Women
(Patriotic Series for Boys and Girls)
Edited by J. Clement
——
With an Introduction by Mrs. L. H. Sigourney
Illustrated
BOSTON: Lee and Shepard, Publishers
Entered by Act of Congress, in the year of 1851,
by E. H. Derby and Co., in the Clerk’s Office of the Northern District of New York
______

Yes, It IS Abuse

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In talking to others who have lived with abusive narcissists, I’ve learned that I was not alone in one area – failing to acknowledge the abuse. Pretty much everyone is familiar with physical abuse, recognizing it for what it is. Of course, many stay with their physically abusive narcissists even so for various reasons, often simply as a result of the abusers’ “gift” for convincing their victims they brought the abuse on themselves.

Gaslighting. It’s a terrible thing. And yes, I fell for that too. There’s one area in particular…one very uncomfortable area, I feel I need to talk about even though I’d rather avoid the topic entirely. Frankly, it’s too common to ignore.

Not surprisingly, his “having” to find other women was my fault because I wasn’t “taking care of him” sexually. Women deal with this one a lot. As is true in most cases, anything that goes wrong, or anything he or she does wrong, is NOT the fault of the narcissist. But the sex thing? Seriously, how did I not…?

This is going to sound ridiculous; I know it is.
Just, if you have no experience with narcissism, please
understand these people are good at what they do.
They’re incredibly skilled at making wrong seem right.

I tried to be the good wife. I tried to satisfy his needs. But he stacked the deck against me.

He was a night owl our whole marriage, living on maybe three hours of sleep for years. When we got married, I was an “in bed by 8:00” girl, but he “cured” me of that and eventually my bedtime, such as it was, moved back to 10PM. When I was ready to go to bed I’d let him know I was heading that way.

You know what I mean: I was saying, without saying it, “If you want any attention, now’s the time.” Then I would make my way to the bedroom knowing full well I couldn’t go to sleep right away because he wasn’t about to follow me. Most nights, no matter how hard I tried not to, I would fall asleep before he came to bed and then, sometimes an hour later, sometimes four hours later, he would either wake me up or attempt to wake me, fail, and get ticked off.

THAT is how I “wasn’t taking care of him.” And it wasn’t until after he passed away that it dawned on me this was intentional. It wasn’t him being so involved in what he was doing that he lost track of time. It was that he wanted what he wanted on his terms. He wanted to call the shots – always. He also wanted to solidify the fact that I was refusing to meet his needs like a godly wife should. Even though I knew in my heart of hearts that his attitude was way wrong, I spent years feeling like a terrible wife because I wasn’t able to stay awake until he was ready.

You’re shaking your head at the idiocy. Yep, I get it.

But, again, that’s the way it is with narcissism and gaslighting. Everything is someone else’s fault, and that someone else is usually convinced of this untruth with disgusting ease. I honestly wonder if there’s not something spiritual, like demonic, going on even beyond the unnatural ability these people possess.

When I say he abused me pretty much every way but physically, I really do mean it. For instance, financially. He would go out and blow all of our money on things like baseball cards, comic books, and eating expensive lunches every day at work. At the same time, he would leave bills unpaid (or hit up his mother for money to pay them – he worked her too), buy snacks instead of real food (because he did the grocery shopping instead of me doing it and being yelled at), and have to be talked into important purchases like new clothes for the kids or myself. 

This is slightly off topic for this particular post, but I want to say it anyway. While Jack was a stinking, rotten, lousy provider, God wasn’t. Through me, as I was doing my best to walk close to Him, God brought in many utility payments, groceries, etc. He also arranged for me to work, every summer, to earn the homeschool curriculum Jack insisted he had no money for. Too, God provided me with a part time job that paid in clothing, so while I was in a highly visible ministry at church I was well dressed regardless of my husband’s refusal to clothe me. Through everything, God was always faithful!

I could keep going, but hopefully you get the point. Some things aren’t really abuse, but when it comes to narcissists… Yeah, if you think it might be abuse, it probably is. Recognizing the fact, and refusing to accept blame that doesn’t belong on your shoulders, will help you keep your head above water.

Again (I’ll probably say this in every post.), if you’re a child of God and you need out of a narcissistic relationship, God can make a way of escape. I am totally responsible for the fact that my boys and I didn’t exit stage left decades ago. God offered me more than one opportunity to leave, and I didn’t take them; that’s on me.

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

“THE LITTLE BLACK-EYED REBEL”

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Some there are
By their good deeds exalted
                                                Wordsworth

Mary Redmond, the daughter of a patriot of Philadelphia of some local distinction, had many relatives who were loyalists. These were accustomed to call her “the little black-eyed rebel,” so ready was she to assist women whose husbands were fighting for free-dom, in procuring intelligence. “The dispatches were usually sent from their friends by a boy who carried them stitched in the back of his coat. He came into the city bringing provisions to market. One morning when there was some reason to fear he was suspected, and his movements were watched by the enemy, Mary undertook to get the papers from him in safety. She went, as usual, to the market, and in a pretended game of romps, threw her shawl over the boy’s head and secured the prize. She hastened with the papers to her anxious friends, who read them by stealth, after the windows had been carefully closed.”

When the whig women in her neighborhood heard of Burgoyne’s surrender, and were exulting in secret, the cunning little “rebel,” prudently refraining from any open demonstration of joy, “put her head up the chimney and gave a shout for Gates!”

______

Excerpted from Noble Deeds of American Women
(Patriotic Series for Boys and Girls)
Edited by J. Clement
——
With an Introduction by Mrs. L. H. Sigourney
Illustrated
BOSTON: Lee and Shepard, Publishers
Entered by Act of Congress, in the year of 1851,
by E. H. Derby and Co., in the Clerk’s Office of the Northern District of New York
______

The Power of Refusing to Care

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The last lesson I learned in the decades of living with my narcissistic husband is one of the most powerful. Oh, how I wish I’d learned it sooner!

He spent most of our marriage manipulating me in a variety of ways. Anger was one of his most useful weapons. Because of childhood trauma, I avoided confrontation at all cost, and couldn’t handle shouting or outbursts of rage. I did my best to keep such events from occurring, swallowing my hurt, my fear, and pretty much every other emotion. In truth, even before I met Jack, Star Trek’s Mr. Spock was my hero and I strove for the safety of that type of emotional mastery.

This hindered me in more ways than I can list, especially in relationships – even in my relationship with God. Honestly, it’s only been in the last ten years or so that God and I have managed to break open the door I’d so firmly kept my emotions locked behind. Until then, they only appeared when they completely overwhelmed me.

None of this means Jack couldn’t hurt me emotionally. It means, rather, that I fought a continual battle to keep the pain locked away in a vault. And if you’ve done any study on the topic at all, you know how toxic and dangerous such actions can be.

As those emotions were loosed, as they began coming out, Jack discovered a greater weapon. Due to his poor health, he had lost much of the power he’d previously held, but now that I dared “feel” again he took advantage, making ridiculous accusations, threats of self-harm, and more that were like finely sharpened knives.

Until THAT day.

Some days, some moments, are so pivotal that you never forget them. One of those moments changed things almost instantly in an incredible way. I had a sudden revelation that he only had the power to hurt me if I let him. Intellectually, I’d known this, but like I said – revelation. In that moment of epiphany, I decided it was high time I stopped caring about what he said.

I literally stood there in our living room, as I was about to walk out the door, and whispered to myself (My apologies; this is a direct quote.), “I don’t give a shit.”

Crass? Yes, but it’s what I said, and I meant it. I was free! I actively chose not to care about anything destructive that he said. I shut down the “victim” response like flipping a switch, and it was astounding! It also shocked me in a very real way. Anyone watching would have seen my eyes go wide in amaze. And then I smiled, and I walked out the door.

Things changed after that. He grew increasingly confused as his primary weapon proved less and less effective. Every once in a while, something he would say would start to get to me and I’d have to remind myself, “Tammy, you don’t give a shit.” (I feel uncomfortable typing that, but I promised myself that I would strive for transparency in this place.)

He still did other things, like intentionally trash the house to punish me, but as frustrating as that was the worst was over. The last several months of his life were much easier on me, first because he’d lost that hold on my emotions and then because, as he came to understand his new reality, he put less effort into those attacks.

I really do wish I’d learned this lesson years ago.

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

Tiny House Part 23: Headboard Wall

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I’ve held off showing you my “bedroom” for a couple of reasons, the biggest being that I’ve not been able to get the bedding I want and I’ve decided I need a new nightstand. At this point the bedding is still just whatever I already had tossed onto the bed, and it doesn’t look great. However, now that I have all my art, and since I gave you a peek at it two weeks ago anyway, I do want to show off the headboard wall.

A couple weeks back, I shared about my mini Monet switch plate cover and how excited I was that it fit in with the art print I already had. If you missed that post, including the creator’s discount offer, you might want to back up to Tiny House Part 21.

This week I have a picture that includes the addition that completes my wall. Check it out!

Please forgive the reflections in the glass!

I was at a women’s conference recently and there was a terrific artist there. As I wandered her booth, drooling, I was sharing with a friend how disappointed I was that I had literally no space at all for any of her art. And then I saw The Lion!: The title is “None Should Perish.” It’s the lion of the tribe of Judah, of course, and it’s not only beautiful, but at first glance the colors looked perfect. Fortunately, this well-prepared aphant (Yeah, not always so well-prepared) had a photo in her phone showing the other two pieces, and I could tell right away that I was right!

It was officially mine!

There were several great vendors at this conference, but this is literally the only thing I purchased. It is from Journey Canvas Company and they’re well worth checking out. Not only do they carry art in a variety of formats, but they also offer books, gifts of all kinds, clothing… a lot. Too, if you’re local, you can check out their gift shop, coffee shop, and bakery in person. Right now, I’m wishing Webb City, MO weren’t so far away.

So, taking a step back, here’s the “headboard wall.”

That large blue piece was a gift from the same friend who helped me decorate. She bought a plushy blanket, cut it up, and covered a canvas with it. (AND gave me the leftovers in case I want to do a complimentary project!) The various shades of blue you see are from me running my hands over it. Like those sequined pillows the kids love, it changes color when you brush it in different directions. It’s very tactile and soothing.

And that’s it for now. It’s not the end of the tour, but I won’t be able to pick it back up until I can either go shopping again or make drastic changes in other areas. And yes, I’m still absolutely loving tiny house living!

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

Relief to the Texas Panhandle

Tammy M CardwellLeave a comment

If you’ve been watching the fires in the Texas panhandle, you know our state has lost 1.2 million acres, and that’s just the land. Ranchers have lost everything. Businesses and homes are completely gone. People have died. Even for a state the size of Texas, the devastation is hard to comprehend.

I have an option for you in case you are looking for a way to help. Operation BAM is a 501(c)3 and one facet of the ministry is sending out a disaster response truck. Our team is shopping and loading up right now, and the truck heads out tomorrow morning. Anything you give to Operation BAM today will help offset the cost of this delivery. (The last time I checked, it took between $10,000 and $20,000 to send the truck out, depending on its load and destination.)

You can give online by going here and choosing “Operation BAM/Missions” from the drop-down menu.

You are also welcome to send a check to: Operation BAM, PO Box 865, Mont Belvieu, TX 77580

Praying for Texas and
Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

A PATRIOTIC DONATION.

Tammy M CardwellLeave a comment

Large charity doth never soil,
But only whitens soft white hands – Lowell.

When General Greene was retreating through the Carolinas, after the battle of the Cowpens, and while at Salisbury, North Carolina, he put up at a hotel, the landlady of which was Mrs. Elizabeth Steele. A detachment of Americans had just had a skirmish with the British under Cornwallis at the Catawba ford, and were defeated and dispersed; and when the wounded were brought to the hotel, the General no doubt felt somewhat discouraged, for the fate of the south and perhaps of the country seemed to hang on the result of this memorable retreat. Added to his other troubles was that of being penniless; and Mrs. Steele, learning this fact by accident, and ready to do anything in her power to further the cause of freedom, took him aside and drew from under her apron two bags of specie. Presenting them to him she gonerously said, “Take these, for you will want them, and I can do without them.”*

* Never did relief come at a more propitious moment; nor would it be straining conjecture to suppose that he resumed his journey with his spirits cheered and brightened by this touching proof of woman’s devotion to the cause of her country. [Greene’s Life of Nathaniel Greene.

______

Excerpted from Noble Deeds of American Women
(Patriotic Series for Boys and Girls)
Edited by J. Clement
——
With an Introduction by Mrs. L. H. Sigourney
Illustrated
BOSTON: Lee and Shepard, Publishers
Entered by Act of Congress, in the year of 1851,
by E. H. Derby and Co., in the Clerk’s Office of the Northern District of New York
______

Surviving Narcissism: Introduction to the Series

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This is the start of a new series that,
while extremely uncomfortable, I feel compelled to write.

If you’ve been following my blog for the last year or so, you know my husband of 41 years was an abusive narcissist. He wasn’t physically abusive (He was too smart for that), but anyone who has been in my situation knows there are myriad ways one person can abuse another. He did. The sad thing is I didn’t even recognize a lot of what he did AS abuse until after he passed away.

Before I go any further, let me say that I realize some readers may find it upsetting that I would write about my deceased husband in such a negative light, because yes, we are going there. In this culture, we are taught to never speak ill of the dead, so I am aware that my posts may offend some of you. Please understand that I have chosen to write this series not to hurt anyone or to bash the man who gave me two awesome sons.

As hard as it may be to believe, I loved Jack Cardwell and supported him as best I could while he lived. However, I have this unique opportunity to give voice to all the women who have been silenced by fear—whether they remain in an unhealthy relationship or are simply trying to stay safe in a world where their ex is still a threat. I’ve wrestled with the pros and cons of sharing my story, for all the reasons you can imagine. But I’m choosing to follow John 8:32, believing the truth will help set others free the way it has done for me.

I’m not ready to address the whole issue of why I stayed with him all those years. The answers are so complicated I don’t understand them even after more than a year of freedom and trying to comprehend my own actions. What I am ready to share, however, is some of the lessons I learned the hard way. 

I believe, am almost positive, I shared fairly recently that I truly see this as me having gone through the school of hard knocks and received my degree. I am who I am today not in spite of the twisted life I’ve lived, but because of it. I am strong. I am unafraid. I am uniquely qualified to step up and support others who are walking the road I’ve walked. While most spend many financially expensive years locked away in college training to work in their chosen fields, I spent decades in a marriage training for the field that chose me.

My goal with this series, at least right now, is to release one post a week, and I have a sketchy idea of the topics I’ll cover. The first lesson I’ll share will, sadly, be the last lesson I learned. This one revelation, and implementing it, triggered an overnight change. It cut down on my stress level in an astounding way and left him reeling over the amount of control he had lost. It was so simple it’s stupid that it took me so long to grasp the concept.

As hard as it is to believe, it is entirely possible to not only survive your relationship with a narcissist, but to thrive in it, to use the experience to become a stronger Christian and a stronger person. Having said that, I am not encouraging anyone to stay in a destructive relationship they should walk out on. I just know from personal experience how hard it can be to make that move, to walk away and not turn back.

Yes, I turned back. We were separated for six months, but he was like a leech that wouldn’t let go. Eventually, he talked me into working on getting back together and then, a month into those talks, he had the heart attack that led to a triple bypass and then a stroke. At that point I felt I had no choice. I knew he couldn’t survive without me; honestly, there wasn’t a soul left alive who would have taken care of him. So, we started over with me hoping for better and not getting it.

Again, follow this series not as encouragement to stay in a bad situation. You do have a choice, to stay or to go, even if you don’t see an out right now. Do follow along for encouragement that there is hope for you even if you do feel permanently trapped.

Life can get better, and you can become someone you never dared dream you could be.

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

Do the Small Things

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Do you remember those stories from the Bible where God asked people to do something relatively simple and then He all-out went supernatural on them?

He’s still in the same business today, and this blog is a great example of Him at work.

You are probably well aware that authors write not only because we are compelled to, but because we want to reach people, share our excitement about new things we’re learning, offer suggestions for life…whatever. In my case in particular, you get a true hodge podge of American History, living with a narcissist, aphantasia, my tiny house, a lot of Jesus, and we – even I – never know what randomness to expect.

But it’s not really totally random. I try to be led by God in all things. I have dreams, and for the most part they’re dreams He has given me. Psalm 37:4 says, “Delight yourself also in the LORD, And He shall give you the desires of your heart.” I firmly believe that He gives us those desires, meaning He plants them in our hearts, and then He fulfills them. He does that with me on a regular basis. Knowing this is how He operates, I really do consciously go to Him for direction, especially for this blog He has called me to maintain.

So, when he asks me to do the small things, I try to be faithful to do them, and in recent months He’s gone supernatural on – in a huge way.

First, He had me write Understanding Your Aphant. Then, right after I posted it, He had me share it in an aphantasia support group on Facebook to see if there were any ways in which I could improve it. There were some excellent suggestions, and I implemented a few.

I was unaware that someone in that group had contact with Aphantasia.com, and that person brought my blog post to their attention. The result was that they published it as an article on the website and started pushing traffic toward tammycardwell.com. I was blown away by the response. As I said, I write with a heart that desires to help people. And the more people you have reading what you write, the more people you can help!

But that was just a taste of what was to come. I still can’t get over this next one.

I recently joined a Small Spaces group on Facebook to get more ideas for my tiny house. After I’d been there a day or so, at His prompting, I shared about my home and what I’m doing in it. It was a simple post with a few photos, nothing great.

It was a small thing.

The simple post exploded with comments and questions. In answering, I shared the link to this blog, pointing out my Tiny House series, so that anyone who was interested could come read those posts and get far more details than I could offer up in post comments.

Again, I just shared a link. A small thing.

Within a very few minutes, I was getting notifications that I was experiencing “unprecedented traffic.” On that day this blog, which generally gets less than 100 views a day, got almost 9,000 views from nearly 4,000 visitors all over the world. That’s thousands of people seeing my website for the first time, visiting for one topic and hopefully getting some Jesus while they were here. (If you know me at all, you know where my true priorities lie.)

And, vitally important, because of one seemingly insignificant comment I made, I had the opportunity to encourage some women who are dealing with serious issues I’ve dealt with personally. This was a huge honor; one I cannot overemphasize. After all, the greatest thing about coming through trials is being able to help others see hope while they walk that same path.

So yes, I have recently had more reminders that God is our dream keeper, and have seen once again that all I have to do is what He tells me to. He didn’t tell me to do big things. He told me to do small things.

Do the small things.

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

Tiny House Part 22: Get Ready & Go

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We’re nearing the end of the official tour with only this, the headboard wall, and then my bedroom area. I will continue to make occasional posts as I change things or implement new storage solutions I want to share. 

This area, my “get ready & go” space, is by the door. So, for perspective, here is a shot I took while standing in my open front door.

The teal blue curtain covers the closet, and the four hanging photos are on the closet’s end wall. This blue lingerie chest, which I’ve had for years, was kept firmly in mind when determining the size of the closet. There is just enough space between it and my open door. Truly, we made every inch count.

Every time someone sees a photo of it, I’m asked about this lingerie chest, which is obviously a great solution for small spaces. This lovely thing is a relic of the 70s. I picked it up at auction and had a talented friend repaint it from its original ivory and gold. The drawers seem small, but it holds an amazing amount of my clothing. An amazing amount! This is where I put sweaters and other knits I don’t want to hang, shirts that don’t have to be hung, shorts, pajamas, lingerie, socks…even my electric razor simply because it fits. This is one of the most important pieces in my little home; if you can find one, you’ll love it!

As you look at this picture, it becomes quickly obvious why I call it my get ready and go corner. Getting dressed, putting on makeup, and even tossing on what little jewelry I wear and a spritz of cologne all pretty much happens right here. There are three pegs under the yellow shelf. Two of them always hold these two bags; well, they’re there unless I’m using one, which happens a lot. The third, middle peg, generally holds my little crossbody purse so I can snatch it up on my way out the door.

The lighting, which is the same inset LED fixture you find throughout the apartment, is perfect for makeup application. This is such an “obvious” solution for my makeup that it seems ridiculous how long it took me to come up with it. If you remember the bathroom tour, you might recall that I started out doing my makeup in there.

Here you get a better understanding of my makeup storage, as well as a glimpse at the front door and wall. The little colored basket things you see are rubber. I picked them up on clearance at Hobby Lobby years ago, and they have served in a variety of ways ever since. They fit perfectly here, leaving just enough space for me to slip eye shadow palettes around the edges.

The mirror is a heavy brass piece that I picked up cheap at an auction and spray painted one of my favorite colors. The yellow shelf is yet another offering from my decorator friend. It is a wonderful thing, having friends with gifts like hers!

I only recently “finished” the top of this chest. In fact, it was knowing I would soon be writing this post that pushed me to get on the ball. (Motivation is a good thing!) It needed that final “something,” which ended up being this burned wood tray. I wanted unpainted wood, because one of the beautiful things about this apartment is that they finished it with a lovely variety of woods, and I felt this vignette lacked that touch.

I found the Phirkcraft 12″ Round Wooden Serving Tray with Handle on Amazon. Of course.

I’ve mentioned before that it’s important, especially in small spaces, to surround yourself with things that have meaning for you. This corner does that in spades. The large print on the wall is a photo I took (with my iPhone 5, believe it or not) of an old bridge right down from the family cemetery. It has meaning on so many levels!

First, I have a thing for pathways. To me, they represent the unanticipated adventures that lie ahead. You never know what’s around the corner. Even if you can safely guess, you don’t know for sure until you get there. I see pictures of pathways and I dream of what they’re not revealing.

But there’s a lot more going on with me and this particular photo. 

Two of the greatest people I ever knew were my mother’s parents. Their home, on their 76-acre farm/ranch, was my absolute favorite place in the whole world. Over the years of visiting and staying with them in the summer, and even one year spent living right up the road from them, we traveled a lot of country backroads and went over many of these scary bridges. Yes, I said scary. I was a cautious child, and driving over those one-car bridges without safety rails made me nervous every time.

But the memories are still good, because any time I expressed concern Grandaddy would lovingly reassure me that we were perfectly safe, and he was always proven right. (He was proven right when he assured us the dogs would keep the howling wolves away from the house too.) So, in a kind of twisted way, this bridge also represents security and a grandfather’s love.

And then, there is the fact that this exact bridge was right down from where he and so many other members of my family are buried; it should be no surprise I have it on my wall. That old wooden bridge is gone now. I found out from relatives in the area that it was replaced with a modern construct shortly after I took this photo. I’m so glad I didn’t miss that opportunity!

The four photos on the other wall (Surprise surprise…2 are pathways) are from the El Yunque National Rainforest in Puerto Rico. These are from one of the trips I took with my sister, and I have to say that, in all the places we’ve stopped on cruises, Puerto Rico is by far my favorite. I would really like to go back and stay there a while, preferably exploring it with locals, as opposed to only having a few hours while on a cruise. I cannot express the beauty, on all levels, of Puerto Rico!

Finally, we have a bucket list item represented in the shadow box that sits on the chest.

I’m not a huge exercise fan, but I do enjoy walking, and for years I told myself that I was going to one day walk a 5K. That day came when wanting to support a friend who ran our local half marathon/5K, combined with the knowledge that both my nephew and son were going to be involved, pushed me into making the commitment. I didn’t get to train as much as I wanted to, but I was in pretty good shape and knew I could do it, if slowly.

My son competed in the half marathon with my granddaughter, who had trained a bit with him, but who also had to be carried part of the way. Consequently, their time wasn’t what he would have liked, but it was a great daddy/daughter experience, and I was proud of them both. (Random note, she now runs cross country in school.) My nephew walked with me, and since he had been training more than I had, it was he who set the pace. Where I might have lagged, he kept pushing, and we made it through the course in under an hour. Great time? No. But I was extremely glad I’d done it and am still proud of myself for following through on something I’d always wanted to do.

Having a bucket list or just dreams is a good thing.
Following through and doing the thing; that’s the best.
So if you do, keep reminders of your accomplishment.

Be blessed, my friends!

Celebrating Jesus,
Tammy C