Speak to Me Sunday: What if ...

In life, we are always presented with what if scenarios. What if I do this, instead of that? What if I go here, instead of there? What if I study this, instead of that?

Sometimes we have time to ponder and consider the what if; other times we must decide on the spot.

Last week I was in Publix (the one in Evans, not the one where Timothy works) when a middle-aged woman approached and asked to speak with me. She was wearing a mask, and because she was speaking very, very softly I had to lean in to hear her. I didn’t catch every word, but I got the gist: she was out of work, she was embarrassed to ask for help, but could I help her out with a few dollars.

This scenario has happened before, except last time it was in the parking lot of Hobby Lobby where family approached me for lunch money. I wrote a guest column about the incident for the Columbia County News Times, and it generated some angry responses. People wrote me and said I was gullible and that I had perpetuated a societal problem of people asking for handouts instead of getting a job. At the time, I was a little surprised at the vehemence of these letters.

If I am being honest, my first reaction that day in Publix was one of annoyance. Seriously? Again? For some reason strangers come up to me all the time, and while the requests are usually simple—asking for directions, help in reaching an item on the top shelf, needing help to get out of a seated scooter—others, like this instance, are a little more complicated.

It was a classic what if scenario.

What if this woman used the money to buy a loaf of bread for her children? OR, what if she bought a bottle of cheap wine instead?

What if she really needed the money? OR, what if I was being conned.

What if she thanks me? OR, what if she laughs behind my back?

All these things were running through my mind as the woman quietly spoke. Then I looked at her shopping cart (which contained two items) and mine (which was filled). And just like that my what ifs changed.

What if God saw her need and guided her in my direction?

What if God was giving me an opportunity to do His will?

What if I was being called to be the face of Christ to this unknown woman in, of all places, a grocery store?

I did not know this woman’s history; I did not know her story. I was simply faced with the fact that, for some reason, we crossed paths and maybe this meant something. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. once said that faith was taking the first step when you don’t see the whole staircase, and so I reached in my wallet and quietly handed her some money.

Because what if ...

What if I was being asked to act on faith?

Watching Them Go

Jonathan arrived home right at lunchtime, and as we were sitting around the kitchen table eating street tacos I realized how much I love watching our sons chatting and smiling and talking a language that Joe and I do not comprehend—a language of video game battles and board game strategies and YouTube personalities. 

After lunch they were driving to Folly Beach where they will join six other groomsmen in celebrating Nicholas' bachelor weekend. As we watched them drive away I felt things shift, just a little bit. We are parents of two grown sons, and one almost grown son, and every day the three of them walk (or drive, or fly) taller and stronger and faster into this thing we call LIFE.

As parents, our role is changing. Joe and I used to be in front leading the way. Like a lighthouse on a rocky shore we offered foundation, faith, and guidance. We illuminated the darkness so they could see possibilities and pathways. Then came the day we gave each of our sons a flashlight and stepped back, allowing them to explore on their own. We no longer walked in front, but alongside them, even as they explored further and further.

And now they have pulled ahead, and we stay behind, which is a little sad but also all kinds of wonderful. From our vantage point we see them forge pathways and explore hidden lands and see and do things we have never done. Now it is their turn to shine. And so we watch. 

It is hard, scary, sad.

It is beautiful, inspiring, exciting.

It is as it should be.

But we will always be that lighthouse, illuminated on the rocky shore, beckoning them home again. 

News from CasaNova

~1~

Last weekend, Nicholas (from Little Rock) and Jonathan (from Atlanta) flew to Williamsburg, Virginia to attend their older cousin's bachelor weekend in which the highlight was a day at Busch Gardens. A good time was had by all. 

This weekend, it's Nicholas' turn. His bachelor weekend will be at an undisclosed Charleston beach and eight groomsmen, including the cousin above, will be in attendance.

the Novajosky cousins

Nicholas, with three of his groomsmen 

(and fellow Clemson grads).

~2~

On the way to Nicholas' bachelor weekend, Jonathan (the best man) is picking up Timothy (a groomsman) who, despite being the youngest, has been included in the festivities. They are already under orders to take care of their baby brother :-)

Timothy, the youngest Novajosky cousin. 

Forever the baby brother.

~3~

The above means that Joe and I will have a long weekend to ourselves. I've always wanted to fly to Paris, France for a weekend. Do-able? I have my Brigitte Bardot/ Jackie O/ Elton John sunglasses ready to go. 

My Brigitte Bardot/ Jackie O/ Elton John sunglasses

A weekend in Paris. How about it Joey?

~4~

Jonathan has been on the go with back-to-back-to-back trips. He joined us in Hilton Head, he flew to Williamsburg, and this weekend he will drive to Charleston. Planes, cars, golf carts, roller coasters, and Ubers ... he's got it covered. 

the traveling man

~5~

Finally, my future daughter-in-law is taking the Bar Exam today. Sending prayers your way, Lauren!

Lost in the (Math) Translation

When I was in the sixth grade, I had a traumatic math class which ruined math for me. Forever.

Oh, I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide; I am very, very good with geometry proofs, and I can balance an algebraic equation like nobody's business. But when numbers start creeping into trigonometry or, heaven forbid, WORD PROBLEMS with train schedules and miles per hour ... well, my mind shuts down. Literally. 

Everyone knows this about me -- my family, my friends, the entire blogosphere. I am not good in math,  which is why the fact that Joe is SUPER in math made the Top Five list of reasons why I married him. He is my Knight in Shining Math Armor and repeatedly saves the day when the Math Dragon breathes its deadly fire. 

(And if something happens to my Knight in Shining Armor, Son #2 is an accountant and will take over duties.)

Most of the time I live in a happy cloud of math ignorance, but sometimes reality rears its ugly head.

This evening Timothy came home from a 7-hour shift at Publix and told us how someone tried to pull a fast one on him with a $100 bill. It was a complicated con, and while Joe immediately got it, I had no clue.

"The problem is you are too nice," said Timothy helpfully. "You would give the person the benefit of the doubt."

So they explained it again and looked at me expectantly. I still did not get; in fact, I was thoroughly confused, but I nonetheless nodded my head like I understood.

This is called Self Preservation. It's a survival tool. 

But my guys were on to me, so after dinner Timothy pulled out the Monopoly money and reconstructed events. He was the cashier, I was the bad guy with the $100 bill. The first time through I still did not understand, and Timothy and I were laughing so hard I had to leave our pretend Publix and run to the bathroom. Joe was exasperated. 

Okay. Time to get serious. We reconstructed events for the fifth time (or maybe the sixth, but who is counting?) (remember, math issues).

This time, Timothy and I switched roles. He was now the bad guy and I was the cashier. 

And ALLELUIA ... I saw the light.

While I was astounded that a person could think of such a complicated con, mostly I was proud that my guy caught him in the act. 

Of course,  when I sat down to write this post I had every intention of describing each and every step of this diabolical con, but the minute I started putting it into words it got lost in the translation. 

Math. It's just not my thing. 

It started with 71

It started with 71.

Dollars, that is.

That was the amount of Timothy's first paycheck from Publix.

When he got the job last spring, the pandemic had changed the world as we knew it. Schools were closed and, as a result, students finished the rest of the academic year virtually. Travel to Europe was banned and travel at home was discouraged. People were advised to stay put, and when venturing outside there were mandates for social distancing and masks. Not the best time to start work.

As a family we discussed the wisdom of Timothy even working during that time. It was a difficult decision. News about the virus changed on an hourly basis, but we worked with what we knew: Timothy was in great health, he did not fall into any of the at-risk categories, and Publix was doing an excellent job of making the store safe (masks, cart sanitization, hand sanitizers, and one-way aisles). Then, of course, there was the fact that Timothy WANTED to work because he had a goal: to save enough money to buy a car the summer before his senior year in high school.

Finally, we talked about fear. We could see, even during those early days, how it would be so easy to withdraw from life and allow fear of the unknown to prevent us from truly living it. 

So on May 16, 2020, Timothy reported to work wearing a Publix green shirt, black work pants, a black apron, and a coordinating black mask. He worked all during the Pandemic summer of 2020, when school resumed in early August, and all through soccer season this past spring. He saved his money.

And just today, the summer before his senior year of high school and a little over a year from when he first started to work, he bought a car ... a peppy Mitsubishi Eclipse. 

Went in for an interview. Came out hired.

Somewhere in the Middle

Have you ever watched The Middle? As a family we love the Hecks, and we were happy when the show's final episode resolved some lingering questions that had carried over several seasons: Will Axl take the job in Denver? Will Sue and Sean get together already? And, most pressing of all, where will that snow globe end up next? 

At one point in the episode, Frankie demands that Mike stop the car, and there in the middle of nowhere she has a crying fit about all the changes happening in their family. 

She cries because the changes herald the sobering reality that things will now different than what they used to be. 

But as much as we would like time to stand still, the reality is that life is a progression of changes--in big, sweeping ways, or little ones that sneak up on you; in ways that bring tears of joy, or depths of despair.  Minute to minute we experience change because, between the bookends of birth and death, changes are the stepping stones for this journey we call Life. 

At the end of that final episode my son asked why the show was called The Middle, so we went through some possibilities: the Hecks are a middle class family, they live in the middle of America, they have three children and the odd number means someone is always caught in the middle.

Or maybe it's because in life we're always in the middle, living in the present but sandwiched between the past and the future. Then, the minute we step into the future we are in the middle again.

I might need a Frankie moment. I'm not sure if this will call for a hug, a tissue, a cookie, or some alone time, but maybe I'll start with a cappuccino.

That's always a good place to start. 

All Who Wander (with a Map) are Not Lost

 Once upon a time we signed Timothy up for a little league flag football team specifically for 1st and 2nd graders. Let me begin by saying it was a complete and total disaster. The kids were rough, the coach was tough, and the parents were absolutely insane (during the first game a woman had to be escorted off the field for yelling like a maniac at the kids).

I knew it was a mistake when, after the first practice, the coach passed out a sheet of paper entitled The Undertaker -- a football play the players were told to memorize.

On the ride home from practice, Timothy looked at the x's and o's and thought it was a treasure map.

I loved the fact that a map sparked Timothy's imagination, that he saw the x's and o's and thought of treasures, and pirate ships, and high seas adventure.  It was something I understood completely because maps have the same effect on me.

In this age of Google Maps and GPS, which admittedly I do use, I still like a good old fashioned map. One I can spread out on the kitchen table in order to take notes in the margin; a map with cities and towns I can circle or star; a map upon which I can make x's and o's and use a bright yellow highlighter to mark our route.

That's my idea of a treasure map.