December 24, 2010

Finding My Way Home

I was six, maybe seven, and you loaded me up in the pick up truck with you and made sure my seatbelt was fastened tight. My feet didn’t touch the floorboard, so I swung them back and forth and looked down at my Lady Hiker boots with the red shoe strings. Size small.

I stared out at a pale blue blanket of snow, as the first stars of Christmas Eve blinked in and out of twilight. You started the engine and the grease still covering your hands left smudges on the steering wheel. You turned up the heat and pointed your vent toward me. And as we drove away down the driveway, big clumps of mud still stuck to the tires from your going to work that day fell off and left tracks in the snow.

In case we needed help finding our way home.

You drove us to Angler’s Roost and parked near the door, tailgate first. We went in, and you held my hand while you talked to people much taller than me. They tried to help you, but you…,you already knew exactly what you wanted. Seven burnished brown cherry gun cabinets, with the etching on the glass and the curio display. To go please. The man behind the counter had to pick his jaw up off the cash register before he could ring you out, and the whole store stopped to watch as they loaded those cherry cabinets in the back of a muddy pick up truck.

You fastened my seatbelt tight again, and we spent the rest of the night driving to seven different houses with seven different sets of Christmas lights, the home of the seven different winter-worn and weary loggers that worked for you. We knocked on doors and gave fruit baskets to the wives and brown teddy bears with red and green scarves to the kids. And then I watched you help unload seven burnished brown cherry gun cabinets, and stand in the doorways of seven men’s homes as you thanked them in front of their families. Thanked them for putting it all out on the line. For working from sun up to sun down, day in and day out. Even when they were hurt, even when they were sick, even when it was freezing outside. You told them it was a job they should be proud of. And you told them how proud of them you were.

And do you wanna know what? All the while you were doing this, I wasn’t watching their faces. I wasn’t even watching yours. I was watching the faces of their kids. At how they stood a little taller. Looked at their dads a little differently. How they felt that pride inside of them too.

I was six, maybe seven and even I knew that you had probably spent your very last dollar buying those cherry gun cabinets, with the etching on the glass and the curio display. But I also knew that that night it didn’t matter, because that night we were the richest people on the planet. That was night you taught me what it really means to build someone up, to be grateful and humble and say the things that need to be said, to make room at the table for everyone, and to maybe work a little miracle somewhere in there too.

Sometimes in this old world, it’s easy to get lost and forget what really matters. But then I remember nights like this, and I’m so grateful that I’ll always have your example to remind me.

In case I need help finding my way home.

  1. Lara

    Beautiful!!! Tears.

  2. Emily Crall

    Wow, this is beautiful. I got goosebumps…and maybe a few tears. Merry Christmas.

  3. Kathryn

    Tears for sure! This is a beautiful, well-told story of what it truly means to be generous, that kindness is all it takes to turn our ordinary lives into transcendent moments, that we are all capable of creating good in the world by giving just a little of ourselves. Whether it’s gifts at Christmas, a smile to a stranger, or a great Christmas story–it all matters. Thanks for sharing of yourself, Mary! -Kathryn

  4. Shannon

    That was AWESOME!!! Thank you!

  5. Kristin

    That is a beautiful story. :)

  6. Kristin H.

    Mary… that was amazing.

  7. Amy Clifton

    Beautiful memory. Crying now. Merry Christmas!

  8. Nicole

    Beautifully written and a great reminder. Merry Christmas!

  9. Teresa K

    Such a touching story…I feel totally moved by it. Thank-you for sharing. There is still so much good in this world…truly

  10. Tira J

    What a beautiful story and forever memories. Thank you again for sharing your heart and soul. Merry Christmas to you both. xoxo

  11. Joe Don Richardson

    Thank you so much.

  12. Heather Corporan

    Some life lessons are truly priceless! Thank you for sharing so much of YOU!

  13. Jennelle

    Now I’m crying at my desk at work and my makeup is all streaky. Seriously, though, AWESOME post.

  14. talia

    beautiful story. so touching. merry christmas j&m

  15. Eileen Broderick

    Love this, Mary. One of my favorite bits from all of your many, lovely posts. Just wonderful.

  16. Debbie

    Beautiful – makes me think of my own dad’s soft heart inside his hard shell :-)

  17. Jennifer

    What a beautiful story! And such a reminder or waht’s really important in this world. Thank you for sharing!!

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