Happy 10 Days Until Thanksgiving, Friend!
Not that I’m counting or anything. Actually, I’ve been counting the days since January 1. Who am I kidding?
I just completed a lengthy drive from the other side of the state and am a bit sleepy as I write this. It was one of my fun “college roommate” weekends in Clearwater Beach. It was great fun, but I was up past my bedtime most evenings, and no matter how late I stay up, my body automatically awakens with the chickens.
Now, you may or may not know this, but dang! There are a lot of bridges in Florida! And especially in the area I was just in. Big ones, bigger ones, biggest ones—they are around the Tampa area. If you’ve known me for a while, you probably know I have a particular aversion to bridges. “Particular aversion” is another way of saying they scare the be-jeebies out of me.
Last Friday, I drove over and met my other galpals at a mall in Tampa. One lives on Clearwater Beach, and the other two were flying down from Wisconsin. I had already put on my puppy dog eyes (via email) and asked Janet if she’d drive my car from Tampa to the beach since it involved more than one bridge. “Sure!” was her ready reply. Fabulous! Fantastic! Marvelous! So, there was just one problem . . .
At the end of our time together, I was leaving before they were to get back home. I’d need to get my scaredy-cat rear-end back over those bridges all by my phobic little self.
So, this morning, I arose with the chickens once again—I may have beat the chickens to the punch this morning—got myself ready and got my car going in the right direction. As I saw it, I had three scary things to get through. Bridge #1, Bridge #2, and then the entanglement of highways that is Tampa. I set my sights on a gas station I knew in Bartow, Florida. Once I was there, I was free and clear.
I started driving, and I started praying. I’m not talking little “in my head” prayers that no one could hear. No, this was out-loud talking to my Heavenly Father. (I’m grateful that now people can have “hands-free” conversations in their vehicles because perhaps that’s what I looked like to passersby.)
Here it came. Pretty quickly in my trip, Bridge #1. Funny, I felt a little anxious, but the anticipation of it was much worse than the real deal. Up and over, I went. First bridge—check.
I said, “Thank You, God.”
On I went for a good bit. Nothing bad. Through Clearwater, I hit lots of green lights. Bonus. Then came the long, skinny causeway to get over to Tampa. In the midst of that was Bridge #2. Bigger than Bridge #1. Still talking to God and conjuring up as many memorized Bible verses as possible, I made it over relatively easily.
“Thank You, God.”
And now the crazy Tampa highways that look like a pile of cooked spaghetti dumped out on a plate. I knew God would not fail me, but I was not as trusting of my GPS, but lo and behold, I made it! 60 East to I-275 North to I-4 East. (Wow, that looks incredibly easy when written out like that. It was much more complicated when behind the wheel.) But I made all the correct turns, no problem.
“Thank You, God.”
Once I cleared the big city, it was an easy drive the rest of the way home.
And now, Thanksgiving week is just around the corner. Again, if you’ve known me for a while, you know that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It’s when our whole family comes home and is together. There’s something we do when our whole gang is together that we don’t do any other time of year.
I plug in the outside fridge.
Oh, the joy of plugging in that empty refrigerator, knowing it won’t be empty for long. For 358 days during the year, all that fridge contains is balled-up newspaper. The cord hangs down the back and lies still on the garage floor, unconnected to its source of life. But, oh baby, when we take out that newspaper and plug that sucker in and start loading it up with a variety of beverages, hope springs eternal!
Back in the days when our kids were in high school, that fridge was filled with sodas and Gatorade, water and . . . pizza . . . the stuff kids like. The inside fridge was more for the more mature members of the family. And then, one by one, the kids left for college and then left college for adult life. The outside fridge got unplugged and stuffed with newspaper.
But not this week. This week, the newspaper came out, and the plug went in. I put “home” into my GPS, but it was that fridge I was thinking about, knowing that the outside fridge coming to life lay at the end of my day’s journey.
And I said, “Thank You, God.”
In these days leading up to Thanksgiving, I hope you will find more “fridges” than “bridges.” But take heart: even in the going-over-bridge moments, God is there to see you to the other side and beyond. Maybe you don’t know what’s on the other side, but He’s there too.
I hope you have many “outside fridge” moments as we anticipate the upcoming holidays.
I’ll have a houseful next week, so I will take the week off from writing to you. I’ll send another email on November 28.
Wishing you and your family a Happy Thanksgiving!
Written with love – – – Patti XOXO
“We should just be thankful for being together.
I think that’s what they mean by Thanksgiving, Charlie Brown.”
Marcie, A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving