My Plastic Career

The auditorium was full of ambitious women in a selling mood.  My endeavor was to become a representative for home sales in a plastics company. My manager and I took a seat in one of the rows of folding chairs in preparation for the presentation.  Nothing could have prepared me.

The meeting started off with the introduction of a new product line. Demonstrations took place on how to convince my hostess and her friends that the new item was essential to their kitchen.  

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“To the homemaker, storage and organization is key.  Remember to encourage the guests to invite you into their home.  Don’t listen to the first three ‘No’s.’ That’s how we stay in business girls, by continuous demonstrations.”

This reminded me of my high school pep rallies.

Then came a testimonial.  A manager stood before us heralding one of her newest recruits.

“Her husband is currently in the hospital and she has three children under five years of age. Her car broke down last week but still Veronica made it to her hostess’ home keeping her commitment.”  One could almost hear the violin playing.  Yes, I’m being sarcastic and I’m sorry. I find it distasteful to put a person on a pedestal.

No doubt my face reflected that deer in the headlights expression.  This was more than information overload. This was sell, sell, and sell.

Trying to take in all this pomp and circumstance was over the top.  My thoughts turned to Christians that have this same drive for sharing their love for Jesus.  This was a turning point in my life.  Passing on hope to someone for their benefit, not for my profit, deeply impacts me.

At one of my own demonstrations a guest challenged whether a container was water proof. Oh no, onfrontation!  I held my breath as we put a camera into the container; trying to submerge it in a sink full of water.  Thankfully it floated, but that was more stress than I needed.

Mine was a short-term business venture.  We took that experience as a business loss at income tax time.  I prefer not to force myself on others. Even the husband of my manager gave encouragement, but not in the sales realm. She didn’t care what he did as long as he didn’t bother her.

This was not for me. But it did a world of good for my spiritual growth.

It Just So Happens…

Who would have considered a trip to the grocery store as a divine encounter?

My purchases were made and I was in the process of loading them in the car. Likewise for the shopper parked next to me. I was oblivious of her until she spoke.

“Why is my car moving?”

 First she panicked, then leapt into action to stop the car. The young mother had put her daughter into the back of their SUV, then proceeded to load her groceries.  Apparently her little one clamored about the car, hitting the gear shift that set the car in motion.

The Memory Came Flooding In

thVE2CGGDEIt took me back to Clyde Smith, a local produce market that is now defunct. In its heyday, it was a thriving business, set far off the road with a huge parking lot in front. I let my toddler in the back hatch of our Chevrolet Vega and proceeded to load my purchases.

Just as I slammed the hatch down I became aware of the car moving in reverse. The keys were in my hand but I couldn’t side step fast enough to get them in the lock to open the door.

My daughter had climbed into the back seat, her eyes wide, as I watched her through the window passing by. The car getting ever nearer the heavily traveled main street.

I was screaming for help, but no one could hear me. Having to think fast, I darted behind the car and let it bump into me, not thinking of the dangerous consequences.  Eventually it stopped.

But here is the main thing. From where I was parked, the car came to a halt about fifty feet from the road.

No other cars were parked behind me that could have been in the path of mine.

Now is that a God thing, or what?

Back to the Present

Because of my experience, I was able to share with this mom how God had made himself known to me.

The Point is

In thinking back,  I hope she sees God in her experience as well, because he was most assuredly there.

Then She’s Gone

Do you know what your purpose in life is?

For the longest time I didn’t give it a thought. Not even wondering if there was a reason for my existence. Today I have a better grasp on it. But I find it changes with time.

Or maybe it’s just me changing, realizing there is more involved to living than just existing.

I’ve mentioned my cousin Diane in a previous post. We spent a lifetime separated. Not deliberately. The circumstances of our lives were worlds apart.

During those separated years, Diane made the family she never knew as a child.

“I made a good life. I have wonderful children and we are happy.”

Diane & Julie

Except she always wondered.

Through all those sixty plus years, she never stopped thinking of me or my brother. We did share the same grandmother, after all. We had that much in common.

Doing volunteer work in the library gave Diane access to a computer. My guess is that is where she conducted her search. Obviously my brother and I were found.

What I hadn’t realized when I met Diane, was this completed her life. Finally. She had extended family of which she also belonged. That brought her satisfaction and closure.

That dreaded C word

Soon after I learned she had cancer. This was not her first go round with it. Mentally she was prepared that this would take her. And that was okay. With her, but not me. To my way of thinking, we were just getting started.

We agreed about life after death. Only she was at peace with wherever she went. I hadn’t known her long enough to share her peace. Because I wanted her with our Creator. Life is better knowing he is by our side at all times. Whether we are on planet earth or face to face.

Lessons Learned

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Family has handed me a fistful of mysteries. Grandma’s anger at her sister-in-law went unexplained.

Curiosity made me wonder why Aunt Jane refused marriage proposals from three men. In time she became comfortable with her singleness. How did she know marriage would be a mistake for her?

Learning has no age barrier, the longer I live the more I learn. Soon I expect to know everything.

Too Late Now

A neighber insisted her children spend equal time between the TV and reading. Likewise, learning a musical instrument to listening to the latest rock songs. Why didn’t I think of that in my child-raising years?

I wish I had seized the opportunity to teach my granddaughters to sew when they lived nearby. Regardless of my busyness, I realized too late that children don’t stay little.

How Can This Be?

Is this (practically) an instant replay? I was dragged into grandparenthood before my time. Now great-grandparenthood too. How can this be? My daughter a grandmother at thirty-eight years of age. Is she old enough to qualify for this? Doesn’t anyone get married and have children after the wedding?

I have made too many blunders to point fingers at anyone. 

My Circle

My circle of family and friends have taught me much, but I am a slow learner. Patience was won by raising forgetful, rebellious, talkative children. The bloodline has become my launching pad. Kin has been a priceless experience bringing me where I am today.

Tolerance came when I realized others with a different background than my own; their words and actions made sense…if only to themselves.

I’ve found forgiveness is best learned on the receiving end. Then pay it forward to another undeserving soul.

God is patient with me. Past events have shown I’m no longer the person I used to be. That’s a good thing,

Friendships can move on, but family should never be cast away. There is too much to be learned from them. I wonder what my family has learned from me.

I may not want to know.

Many Octobers Ago

Fifty two Octobers ago I met my husband. It was a high school field trip to the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan. In the automotive section, some of the students climbed over the barriers to clamor about in the antique cars. Security was on us in no time.

Henry Ford Museum

“Ok, that’s it. You were warned. Consider your tour over, exit immediately.”

We were shoved out a side door into a cramped courtyard. Some guy and I were shoved through the door, his broad shoulders crushing me.

Getting To Know You

We struck up a conversation. Both of us bummed at leaving such a neat place. A date came soon after, that grew into going steady. I can’t recall what we talked about, but spent hours on the phone with each other.

Often I stayed after school as he worked on a drafting assignment. I learned he couldn’t doodle without a straight edge. In turn, he learned I considered my sewing class as recess to play.

During football season, we attended every game. Completely ignoring it, as we were wrapped up in each other. Grandma called it puppy love.

A Questionable Proposal

Our recollections of his proposal don’t agree. I say we were on the phone, he says in the car. I just hope it’s acceptable, now that our children are grown, with their own kids. Us being great grandparents is no time to learn it wasn’t legit.

Take note though, the proposal came after his purchasing a radial arm saw. That should have waved a red flag, had I not had stars in my eyes. Today we continue to support and encourage the interests of each other.

The Best Part

The best part is we still like each other. Not that life has always been peachy keen. We’ve had our ups and downs, but we never outgrew that puppy love. It was what glued us together. Both of us are convinced that God brought us together and carries us through wherever life takes us.

Commercial Break

If you are a history buff, consider traveling to this wonderful museum. Next door is Greenfield Village. Both are owned by the Ford Motor Co. and well worth the trip. Give yourself several days, both are huge and you don’t want to miss a thing.

It Is Finished

How can I blithely spend a few minutes jotting down an accomplishment that has taken me years to complete? I am the only quilter I know that can make a brand new antique. But it is finished.

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This cathedral window quilt began in a workshop many years ago. My goal was three-fold, learn something new, use up scrap fabric piling up everywhere, and follow in our foremothers example of using the fabric on hand.

But Then…

For the mostpart I stayed true to my intent. But then I used up all my blue scraps and was far from done. So I begged scraps off fellow quilters. Eventually I used all my white fabric too. So I used off white colors. But then I was reduced to going out and purchasing more.

Life has interruptions. In the course of this project, I took on quilting for a lady that had inherited an unfinished quilt. She had everthing needed to complete it, all I had to do was put it together.

“You can keep all the white fabric left over, I’ll never use it.”

What a blessing! I was back at it, able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Just The Stats M’am

 

If you’re not already sitting down, feel free to do so.

Keeping in mind one yard is 36 inches. Three forths of a yard will make one block. One row consists of 8 blocks, bringing the yardage up to 6 yards. To cover a queen size bed required 11 rows. All total, 66 yards of went into this. It weighs in at 9lbs.

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A Work Of Love

This helped fill my evenings with handwork to keep myself busy. I’m not good at sitting and doing nothing.  Things worth having are worth working for. This work of love filled my heart as I imagined my family enjoying the warmth it provides.

Jesus comes to my mind, as I consider his lifetime of love, example, provision for mankind, and his sacrificial death so that we might spend eternity with our Creator. He finished His task too.

I included an up close picture of the quilt to see what can’t be seen from a distance. If you keep too much distance from God, your going to miss knowing Him and what He has to offer. Its woth the time investment to see Him better.

 

Minimalist In The Making

Family pictures are precious, and displaying them made conversation when visitors came. The down side is dusting them. I generally save housework to make it worth all the effort. Memories have a way of accumulating like dust bunnies under the bed.

I needed to sort through them, and enlisted my husband to help in this decision-making nightmare. He was no help.

“Why are you asking me, I’m not the decorator here?”

Determination Spilled In

A memory came over me of my childhood closet. My parents home was circa 1920’s when storage was wanting. My closet doubled as a pint-size attic. It’s contents were listing into my clothes.

A fit of determination spilled over me as I proceeded to clean it out. How can a young girl determine to save or pitch what took her folks a lifetime to accumulate? It can’t be done. So it all went back.

This Stuff Was Our Stuff

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I was determined to flush something out.

“What should we do with this picture Aunt Vic painted, whom we have never met?”

One thing in my favor was our open floor plan that gave us few walls to work with. Did I love this picture enough to dust it forever? Nope.

One decision seems to hinge on another though. Is this the way I’m going to keep my furniture arrangement? Where is the dart board going to hang downstairs?

“I’d like a mantle size shelf over the bed so I can ….” You get the idea.

“I’d like to put my wood hanger collection in the bathroom. Where are they anyway? I wish we could locate the box they got packed in. What would be helpful is to have a large case on wheels that would house the keeper pictures that aren’t on display. Where could we keep that?”

Round and round she goes, where she ends, nobody knows.