Jim, my husband of 32 years and I are about to start an adventure.
Along with our two dogs, and about half of 28 years’ worth of accumulated crap, we’re moving to Jonesboro, Arkansas at the end of July.
We’ve rented a small house — and when I say small, it’s half the size of the four-bedroom, two-and-a-half bath home in which we raised our girls. It’s small, but it will be plenty. To be honest, we currently only use about three or four rooms in our house anyway. So downsizing here we come. Goodbye four bedrooms, hello storage unit.
Not the best pic of the dogs. This was taken in our downstairs bathroom during a tornado warning.
When we moved into our current house in a suburb of Memphis, we thought it was a good thing to have two attic areas. Friends, it is not. Trust me, accumulated crap grows to fit the space it lives in.
Our next few weeks will be filled with decluttering and designating about half for storage and half for the house.
As most of our family lives here in Jonesboro, we have no need for huge entertaining areas. It’s easier for us to just come to Jonesboro than to have all of the Jonesboro folks come all the way to Memphis.
Jim is starting a brand-new career in real estate. He’s ready to ditch corporate IT and real estate is perfect for him. He’s a fantastic networker and the most detail-obsessed person I’ve ever known.
I’ve lived in Memphis since 1981, when I moved here to get a masters degree at University of Memphis’ fine graduate program in audiology. I stayed here because I love this city. It’s a great place to live, with a lot of great places to eat (eat local!) and a thriving tech community. Our Sunday School class, the Messengers from Christ Methodist, have been a close community for us. This community has seen us through several deaths in the family, major surgeries and the countless joys and challenges of this life.
If you think Memphis is a nasty, filthy, dangerous place, you haven’t been to Memphis lately. Get out and visit the Crosstown Concourse, ride the Greenline, go to Cooper-Young and enjoy Memphis’ best local restaurants, go downtown (Yes, downtown! ) and check out the South Main District. Go to Summer Avenue and experience real Mexican food, and indulge in fine dining at Erling Jensen. I’ve lived in this city for 38 years, and have only had ONE brush with crime.
It’s only the past couple of weeks that I’ve started to really think about the idea these are some of my last weeks in this beloved city. Memphis, I’ll miss you, but I’ll be back to visit. Often.
Here are some of the things and places I’ll miss about Memphis. Click on one of the photos to see the rest. Downtown shots; things you might not see if you don’t live here.
I hope my snapshots of Memphis have helped you appreciate my town. I’m sad to leave, but change is always hard. It’s often the catalyst for new blessings and I’m ready.
The season could not have come at a better time — especially now, when we’re not going out much anywhere, due to the unemployment thing. One of our simple pleasures is putting our feet up and ending the day with the Cardinals on TV, win or lose.
Last weekend, my sister gave us tickets to see the Redbirds. We’re big fans, as we’ve watched many current Cardinals members play at AutoZone Park. This night was especially exciting, as Cardinal third baseman and 2011 World Series MVP David Freese was playing in Memphis on a rehab assignment.
Cardinal third baseman David Freese on deck
Yeah, these seats are good.
Freese at bat just before whacking an RBI double
So as we’re enjoying the game, I glance over to our right, in the area behind home plate. I notice two young guys with a clipboard, apparently keeping pitching statistics. I recognize one of them as Michael Wacha, top pitching prospect for the Cardinals. This guy will most likely be on the mound at Busch Stadium by the end of the season. I didn’t immediately recognize the other guy, but realized he was Tyler Lyons, also a pitcher.
Wacha (left) and Tyler Lyons signing autographs for us
They were very nice and seemed genuinely happy to be recognized. We chatted with them a bit, and wished Wacha good luck pitching on Sunday.
So, a beautiful night for baseball, a chance to see a Cardinal hit a double and two autographs to add to our collection.
We’re perfectly happy hanging out and eating at home and living a simpler life. But a gift like baseball tickets gave us a tremendous boost; a chance to enjoy a night out and feel normal for just a short while. We looked forward to it all week and relished it all evening.
Do you know someone going through a rough time? Think about a gift of something they really like to do.
Yesterday was an epic day in my baseball world. We went to AutoZone Park to enjoy a Redbirds baseball game, some postgame fireworks and the main attraction, the World Series trophy. The same trophy former manager Tony LaRussa held proudly after the historic 2011 series; that was displayed on the field at Busch Stadium on Opening Day, next to Lou Brock, Bob Gibson and other Cardinal greats.
Trophy close-up
It represents an incredible comeback triumph, the thrill of watching it unfold and an evening that has come to be known simply as Game Six.
My sister and her family joined us for the game and fireworks, but the real goodness was standing inches from the trophy and reliving those moments together.
This morning as my husband, Jim, and I got ready to leave for church, I put on my coat, scarf and gloves to stay warm in the 20-degree weather and single-digit windchill. I had to decide between brown gloves to go with my pants or black gloves to go with my coat; cloth or leather, solid or pattern …
I thought of those who have no warm home to turn on the heat, no hot water to make a cup of tea, no hat, gloves, scarves or coat against this bitter cold. So on a whim, I threw an extra pair of gloves in the car. We had bought them last year and they still had the tags. As we left for church, I said a prayer that I’d find someone who needs those gloves.
We go to church in a wealthy neighborhood in east Memphis and we live in Germantown, an affluent suburb. So the likelihood of seeing a needy or homeless person between our home and our church … almost nil. In fact, I’m not sure I ever have.
Until this morning. As we drove home from church, a man was walking down the street wrapped up in a blanket. There was no place to pull over, so we had to circle a block or two, then come back around and find him again. As we turned back onto a major street, there was a homeless man at the intersection holding a sign. Jim and I gave the man what cash we had in our wallets. He already had gloves, so we kept going and found the first man in a parking lot, wrapped up in that ratty blanket — with no gloves and very cold hands. It occurred to me that if the first man had been at any other point on our route, we’d have been able to easily pull over and would never have seen the second man. Coincidence? I’m going with no.
Beginning with the rest of Advent, I’ll commit to pray this prayer every day: Help me to keep my eyes open for those in need. To go looking instead of just waiting for them to come to me. I’m going out today to buy some gloves, hats, scarves and maybe a blanket or two to keep in my car. I’ll pray that God will show me someone in need, that I will not just give and serve when it’s convenient, but that I’ll go looking for opportunities.
Because if He can place two needy persons in our path between Laurelwood and Germantown at that moment in time … what greater impact can we have if we actively seek to serve?
I’m not waiting for opportunity — I’m going knocking. Come with me.
I reported to the federal courthouse building on a snowy morning when I’d rather have stayed in bed. My hope was that I’d be quickly excused, but as the process unfolded, I became intrigued. My name was called, the judge questioned me and the next thing I knew I was a juror.
The defendant, a convicted felon, was charged with possession of ammunition, specifically 13 bullets, which is a violation of federal law. The defendant had signed a form on which he had admitted he possessed the bullets. It was our job to decide whether or not he possessed the ammunition, which police had found in his room. Nothing more, nothing less. Simple, right?
Shane Claiborne doesn’t look — or live — like an average preacher. This author, Christian activist and sought-after speaker wears no tie, not even a blazer and jeans, but casual, comfortable clothes and has dreadlocks that hang past his shoulders. Raised in east Tennessee, he now lives and serves among the homeless in inner-city Philadelphia in community with others who share resources and live frugally on about $150 per person per month. He ministered in Iraq during the bombing of Baghdad in 2003 and spent one summer among the poor in Calcutta with Mother Theresa.
