I came across this on Oris George’s facebook page tonight, and had to share it:
The following comes from the heart.
So a few of my friends and family know of a very special person in my life, a friend I’ve had since I was literally Knee high to him. He’s always been that extra Grampa, Uncle, partner in crime, advisor, confidant, accomplice whatever I needed at the time. We today apparently he knew just how much I needed to ground myself.
Oris Reed (or as I lovingly refer to him as “Old Fart” forwarded an amazingly well written tribute to his angle saint of a wife written by his daughter Luanna Reed Rodham. Lovely tribute, made me all nostalgic reminding of days gone back.
It’s amazing how memories can ground you, how your entire outlook of the here and now can change with a memory. It’s also funny how my memories come with their own soundtrack. As I soaked in the memories next thing I knew I was belting out Randy Travis, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Diamond Rio etc with tears rolling down my cheeks.
I miss you Old Fart, thanks for thinking of me and sharing today… I really really needed that. For me you’ll still always Walk on Water .
Now back to blasting old country music before my appointments get here…..
The tribute from Luanna —
I remember you, mom! I know that the Alzheimer’s/dementia has taken away those memories from you. But, I remember. I remember when we were little kids driving from Albuquerque to Colorado Springs and the sun would be shining in our eyes and you would put a blanket up in the window to keep the sun out. I remember when you made sugar cookies for my whole second grade class and wrote every single kids name on them. I remember when you would stay up to the wee hours of the morning on Easter Sunday finishing our homemade gorgeous Easter dresses. I remember you teaching me how to cook. I remember you watching me ride my bike and cheering me on. I remember you teaching me how to garden. I remember you came to every single basketball game and cheered me on no matter how bad I was. I remember you teaching me the gospel of Jesus Christ. I remember when you made my wedding dress. I remember when you came and helped with all three of my kids. I remember all the sacrifices you made for me. Don’t worry mom, I remember!
One young lad carting eggs to town for his mother, driving a team of one stubborn mule and a buckboard. The mule stopped suddenly, eggs flew everywhere and the lad, covered in processed mule feed, returned home a wee bit smarter than he’d been when he left.
A life lesson?
A fable is a lesson taught through a story. A story that may or may not have been true, but the lesson taught in the story reveals a side of reality that can be easily construed, or missed entirely.
We either learn from our mistakes or from the mistakes of others. But most will agree that life lessons are drawn from mistakes made.
Prayers change the prayer, not the prayee.
Whenever I struggle to deal with a person, I put them on my prayer list. Over the years, I’ve learned that if I pray consistently for a person, they become easier for me to understand. They often even become friends, and occasionally, I get over the anger I’ve felt toward them, and accept their human failures by finding more about them to like than dislike.
My prayers for those people whom I struggle with don’t change them, they change me.
Such is the way of life lessons, we can’t teach them. We learn them.
Kenny, a city boy, moved to the country and purchased a donkey from an old farmer for $100. The farmer agreed to deliver the donkey the following day.
The next morning, the farmer drove up and said, “Sorry, son, but I have some bad news. The donkey died.”
“Well, just return my money to me,” Kenny said.
“Sorry, can’t do that,” said the farmer. “I already spent it.”
“OK then, just unload the donkey,” said Kenny.
“Whatcha gonna do with him?” asked the farmer.
“I’m going to raffle him off,” Kenny replied.
“You can’t raffle off a dead donkey!” the farmer exclaimed.
“Of course I can,” replied Kenny. “Watch me. I just won’t tell anybody he is dead.”
A few weeks later, the farmer met up with Kenny and asked, “So, what happened with the dead donkey?”
“I raffled him off. I sold 500 tickets at two dollars a piece and made a profit of $898.00,” explained Kenny.
“Didn’t anyone complain?” inquired the farmer.
“Just the guy who won. So, I gave him his two dollars back,” Kenny proudly replied.