Happy Tuesday, My Friend!
Excuse me, but has anyone seen June? I swear she was just here, but I feel her slipping away.
I was thinking the other day about how my “little” son Sean, now about 6’4″, loved to “get something at the end” of our trips to the grocery store. When you’re a very busy four or five-year-old boy, accompanying your mother to the grocery store is not exactly on your list of “super fun things to do today.” But when you’re four and five years old, you can’t boss your mom around (oh, believe me, he tried), so off you go.
The question that came to me from this little tike every time we walked through the grocery store entrance was this: “Can I get something at the end?” “Something at the end” consisted of a trinket from one of those machines that accepted quarters and spit out a treasure. Some prizes were 50 cents, but those were off-limits. Knowing that if he cooperated through the aisles of produce, cereal, and Spagettios and cleared the frozen foods, he’d get his something at the end made the shopping experience tolerable.
It reminded me that I did something similar with my mom. In my little hometown grocery store (where my mom could say, “Put this on my tab”), there was a freezer right before the checkout lane. In that freezer were ice cream bars and ice cream sandwiches. I must have been a pretty cooperative shopper because I often remember getting “something at the end” when I shopped with my mom.
And then there’s my other son, Teddy. When he was a kid, he took guitar lessons. When he started, I told him I’d buy him a frozen drink from Burger King on the way home if his lesson went well. That was his “something at the end.” I did not sit in on his lesson, so I had to ask him how it went each week. You know, he said, “It went great” every single week. And I believed him! (Would my child ever lie to me? Never!)
We went through that Burger King drive-thru every week.
What do all these stories have in common besides bribery and poor snack choices?
Looking forward to something good coming.
I don’t know about you, but I sure need a carrot to reach for out there in the world. Or a gold ring. Or an ice cream sandwich. I want to know that something better is coming.
Have you ever heard of the Legend of the Fork? I first heard it from my friend, John (who got a fork tattooed on his wrist to remind him of its message). It goes like this:
There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So, as she was getting her things in order, she contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.
She told him which songs she wanted to be sung at the service, which Scriptures she would like to read, and which outfit she wanted to be buried in. Everything was in order, and the pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important. “There’s one more thing,” she said excitedly.
“What’s that?” came the pastor’s reply.
“This is very important,” the young woman continued. “I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand.”
The pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.
“That surprises you, doesn’t it?” the young woman asked.
“Well, to be honest, I’m puzzled by the request,” said the pastor.
The young woman explained. “My grandmother once told me this story, and from that time on, I have always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement. In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, ‘Keep your fork.’ It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming…like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful and with substance!
“So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand, and I want them to wonder, ‘What’s with the fork?’ Then I want you to tell them:
‘Keep your fork…the best is yet to come.'”
Even though this story might initially seem sad because it’s about the death of a young woman, to me, it is hope-filled. She knew she was headed somewhere better, and I love the visual of the fork. Anticipation of what was coming:
A 25-cent trinket. An ice cream bar. A frozen cherry icee.
Heaven.
I hope you have something you can look forward to. Something to keep you plugging away on days when you don’t feel like plugging. I know I need regular visits with my family to be on my calendar to act as carrots. Meeting a friend for lunch can also be a carrot for me, even if I don’t actually eat carrots at that lunch. Planning a dinner out with Kevin is another excellent carrot. Ultimately, I know that when I’m done eating all my meals here, I have a heavenly banquet to attend, for which I’m eternally grateful.
Speaking of seeing my family, I’m headed to Wisconsin in a few days and will be there for the whole month of July. I still plan to send you “a little something” every Tuesday morning. It might just be a photo or two of Lake Superior or my gang, but I wanted to take you along! You’ll love my hometown! I can taste the fresh strawberry shortcake already!
Better keep your fork!
Written with love – – – Patti XOXO 
“. . .Looking forward to things is half the pleasure of them.”
― Anne of Green Gables