In praise of ordinary days

Here's Adam's guest post.  It made me laugh and cry a little and no, he wasn't supposed to write about me, but I still love that guy.

Thelma announced to the world on her blog that each of us would write a guest post, then she announced to each of us on Monday evening what kind of punishments would await if we let her down. So, right now every one is asleep and I’m fearfully typing out this post at the kitchen table. Only I’m sitting in Thelma’s chair and there is nothing she can do about it.

Every once in a while an alert pops up on my phone telling me that the Photos app has created a memory for me. I’m not sure that’s how memories are supposed to work, but I’m cool with technology. I decided to open my phone and see what memories it had in store for me.

Gatherings in Pleasant Grove. Based on the picture, that’s a memory I should try to forget. Based on the picture, it’s not much of a gathering if I’m by myself. Based on the picture, it’s no wonder I’m by myself.

Bay Lake. The problem with this memory is that I have no idea where Bay Lake is. I don’t remember going to Bay Lake. The way Braeden’s head is warped in the picture, it may have been in an alternate dimension.

Best of Last Month. That sounds promising but, apparently, it’s been since 2017 that I’ve had a month worth noting. And it’s kind of sad that the cover image for the best of that month (whatever month it was) was a barren landscape.

Las Vegas & Boulder City. Now we’re getting somewhere. I remember those days. There is nothing better than spending time with Thelma. In this particular picture we are spending time in a diner in Boulder City where, as I recall, they had a dish simply named “those potatoes.” That was also the day Thelma must have looked like an antiques thief because the shop proprietor came after her with a loaded gun.

Thankfully, cooler heads prevailed. But you can’t blame the shop owner for being on the lookout when you stock your shelves with choice treasures like this:

I want to know the story with guy in the back right corner.

That little lady has a face that says, "Please buy me. Then put me out of my misery."

Problem: I’m supposed to write about one particular day, not a road trip.

I scrolled further through my phone and saw a picture taken from inside Costco on our birthday. Problem: Thelma has already documented that day (using my pictures and all). Still, that was a pretty good day. It was good because the only plan we had was to spend the day together. Two things I love are not making plans and spending the day alone with Thelma. In fact, the best days of my life for the past 27 years almost universally involve being with her. I’ve heard her say that she could be happy with me in a Turkish prison. As long as she’s my cellmate, the feeling is mutual. (Also, I call the bottom bunk.)

One way to avoid writing about a day Thelma has already documented would be to write about a day I was alone. The older I get, the more I enjoy solitary adventures. Last month I took most of a day to meander from Nashville to Louisville. I drove the backroads. I ate by myself at a roadside McDonalds. I stood silently in the mouth of a cave.

Not for the first time, I hurriedly filled up my rental car’s gas tank at this same dive of a convenience store while nearly missing my flight:

(As an aside, I took a personality test the other day and passed. It told me I’m an introvert. I’ve never thought of myself as an introvert. But it also told me I’m not very self aware. Since I’m the one who answered the questions about myself, who knows if I can trust the results.)

The other way to avoid writing about a day Thelma has already documented is to beat her to the punch. So, I’ll write about today. I’ll write about today because it reminds me of so many reasons I love her.

Thelma texted me midmorning to say that the city had shut off the water to our neighborhood without warning just as she was in the middle of a load of laundry and cleaning one of the bathrooms. The amount of effort she puts into making our home beautiful and peaceful astounds me. A few hours later, still without water, I received this. “Things aren’t so dismal though.  We have electricity and I pulled some ice out of the freezer to make myself some water to drink.  Hopefully it won’t last long.” Then, if the challenge of being without water wasn’t enough, she decided to bake a cake. Watching The Great British Baking Show the night before had put her in the mood, but the intended recipient was a couple in our neighborhood who just had a son pass away. She thinks of Things. The big things. The important things. She thinks about them and remembers. I wish I was more like that. Then maybe my prayers would be as full as hers are with pleadings for peace and comfort and restoration to make their way to people who are suffering and separated. Then maybe my days would be as full as hers are with helping others and being the answer to those same prayers.

Back to the cake. Now that I think about it, I’m not exactly sure where she ultimately got the water to bake the cake. But she did. It took a few attempts before we found our friends at home. Thelma gave them the cake and we visited. As we were leaving their doorstep, I heard this dear woman tell Thelma that she loved her. And I knew it wasn’t because of the cake. It was because of the hours these women had already invested in serving together and strengthening one another.

Thelma doesn’t like being out front. She doesn’t like attention. And she probably won’t be happy that I made this post about her. But she means everything to me. If you ask me to think of something good, I can’t help but think of her. Any ordinary day is a good day and the world is a good place when I’m with her.