We lived in the blank white spaces at the edge of the print. It gave us more freedom. We lived in the gaps between the stories.
Margaret Atwood, The Handmaids Tale
From a nutrient standpoint, no kid should start the day with a donut and a Coke. But, memorably speaking, every child should know what it is like to start their day with a donut and a Coke.
That’s just what she did. “Girls wake up! If you hurry, we can go by the donut shop before school starts.” Mom would get up and ensure we had our beds made, clothes on for school, and lunch boxes in hand. Off we would go to town. Some mornings it would still be dark as we pulled out of the drive and down the gravel road.
The donut shop sat downtown on Dakota Avenue in an old historic building. World of Donuts is no longer there. However, if I drove by the street, my imagination would start playing tricks on me, and I would see the donut shop come to life again. I could easily picture two young girls sitting inside with their donut selection and a Coke, enjoying the savory moment of a hot, airy donut that melted in our mouths. A beverage full of fizz to tickle the throat made chasing the sugar priceless.
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Across the street from the donut shop was the Coke-Cola bottle plant. Mom would give each of us a quarter, and we would head over to make our selection. Inside the garage was an old Coke machine that dispensed glass bottles. I don’t know if it is childhood memories or if more fizz really does live in glass bottles. Still, nothing can compare to hearing your quarter slip away from your fingertips as it lands in the metal change box behind the door, then reaching your hand inside the cool refrigerated box of beverages to grab the glass bottle. I had to pull hard to loosen the machine’s grip, but once the bottle was free, I could hear the sound of the bottles clanging together as they rolled down to their new position. On the outside of the machine was a bottle opener. Listening to the bottle top pop off and the air release from inside the glass bottle is a sound lost to a world of plastics and aluminum.
There was an honor system inside the Coca-Cola plant. Wooden crate boxes were left out so you could return your empty bottle for recycling and future reuse.
Old home scenes of my childhood, in fond memory, appear—precious memories, how they linger, how they ever flood my soul. In the stillness of the midnight, precious, sacred scenes unfold.
J.B.F. Wright
On Sundays, we have church on the way to church. Chuck will clap loudly, making the girls laugh, and I will raise my hands, calling down Heaven as the song plays. Chuck recanted, “Girls, this is how Nana praises. She always has two hands out and shoulder action, then three loud claps.” I laughed at the sweet picture. I asked him if she had always done that. He said, “As long as I can remember.” I commented, “My mom always lifted her hands like this.” As I raised my hands, I choked up. Chuck looked at me, and I smiled. My eyes glossed over. I realized; I worship just like I have watched my mother my entire life.
I couldn’t shake that image all through service; It held a powerful lesson, and I was determined to get to the bottom of it. As the altar filled that particular Sunday morning, I realized the value of what Chuck and I showed our girls. Life was not all roses for these women as they raised their families. There were times of sadness, heartache, struggles, doubt, and times of laughter and joy. I bet there were even “donut shop” moments that forever left a mark on their children. Yet through it all, they lived with their hands lifted each Sunday to praise the One who saw them through. And the only part the children remembered was not how their mother felt on Sunday morning- it was the direction of her praise.
When Eva is singing in the children’s choir, I can’t help but raise my hands and worship the Lord for His goodness to my family. For one, He is always worthy of our praise- when I feel like it and when I don’t. But also, and perhaps more subtle- Eva is watching me. Although Charlotte is not in the choir yet, she will be soon, and her eyes will be pinned on Mommy and Daddy too. I want to be sure of the direction of my praise.
I was preparing Charlotte’s new room, now down the hall across from Eva’s room. I had mixed emotions. Although it is a much larger room with a bathroom nearby, it is farther away from me. I turned off the light to look at my handy work and watched the lamps glow and the nightlight slip on. It all seemed to arrive too quickly. I was prepared for her arrival, but not for growing up. I told Chuck I wanted to keep her in the crib for as long as possible. And in his usual way, he showed me that if I kept her trapped in the crib, I would never hear her little feet patter down the hall calling for mommy in the night, nor would I hear the back door open when she came in from a night out with friends, and I would miss watching her find her way home and run up the steps of the front porch to kiss me hello. It all seemed a heavy price to keep her in her crib. God told us to create a place for Charlotte before she was born; now, it was time to give her space to grow.
Eva wasn’t feeling good. She was fighting off a slight cold, so I tucked her in on the couch for an afternoon nap. I gave Charlotte a sherbet ice cream to keep the noise down and took her to the back porch. There was more Sherbert on her shirt than in her mouth. Her little feet barely met the end of the wicker chair cushion as her questions varied from the chirp chirps to Samson (our male Golden Retriever). The wind would breeze through and blow her hair, leaving her big brown eyes and rainbow-stained face for me to gaze upon. It didn’t take me long to realize this was a scene I would not soon forget. I reminded her as I have Eva, “Charlotte, it’s ok to grow up, just don’t grow up too fast.”
Charlotte, only two, won’t remember the back porch with Sherbert ice cream. But I also know that, like the donut shop, I will remember that moment for the rest of my life.
Thanks, Mom; for teaching me the direction of my praise and for the donut shop.
For this child, I have prayed, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of Him…" 1 Samuel 1:27
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