Come and Sit a Spell

‘Sit a Spell’ is a Southern phrase meaning to enter a particular place and relax for a short period or ‘spell’.  It’s a time of fellowship, friendship, and (usually) gossip.  The front porch visits on hot summer days with lots of ‘bless her hearts’, sweet tea sippin’, and slowly rocking or swinging all your troubles away.  I don’t have any sweet tea to offer, but won’t you please join me for a little friendship and (just a tiny bit of) gossip?

Last week I mentioned my decision to be a kinder human being.  Just a few short days later while waiting for a pedicure, a young lady walked in with an ankle brace.  As I sat waiting to be called back, I scoffed to myself that this young lady walked inside without even a limp but held her leg up as if it were broken while she signed in for her own pedicure appointment.  Drama!  Meanwhile the woman sitting next to me got up and offered her a seat, thus reminding me that I’m failing quite nicely at being a kind person already.  And here I’d been mentally patting myself on the back at least an hour for not getting visibly annoyed at the lady standing too close to me at lunch.  Fail – 1  Crystal – 0

Over the weekend I attended the wedding of a friend’s son.  They are a young couple just beginning to make their way in life and it was a beautiful reminder of the joys, hope, and lack of cynicism of young love.  (It was also a lovely reminder that someone I met when they were four years old is now a grown, twenty-two years old and I’ll just leave that right there for now.)  It also stood as a reminder of the place I was in emotionally just around a year or so ago versus where I am now.  On Saturday, not once did I feel sorry for myself being single.  Not once did I wonder where “my guy” was.  Not once did I long for a husband or a boyfriend or a man at all.  And this, my friends, is the most fantastic thing for which I am grateful this week.

But back to feeling old….my mother was staring at my hair recently.  Then she leans in closer to get a better look.  To my (kind) request for her to tell me what in the devil she’s looking at, she states, “Do you know if you stopped coloring your hair it would be almost all white?”  And I was suddenly overcome with the light of clarity as I realized this is exactly how something like the Hatfields and McCoys are born.  Bless her heart.

A co-worker who has been off nearly a year returned to work one morning last week.  He has been off due to a car accident that almost killed him.  He began the conversation by describing how he (temporarily) died and Jesus spoke to him telling him to wake up, that it wasn’t yet his time to go.  This somehow segued right into him (tragically) only recently being able to catch the Alabama championship game from last season – which is being played back-to-back on cable here because ROLL TIDE!!  Meanwhile, no one here knows that hockey even exists.  And this, my friends, is what it means to live in Alabama.

In just a few more days I begin classes at my local community college.  That’s right!!  I will be returning to higher education learning after a short 15-year (give or take) sabbatical.  The near-panic only began this week, so I’ll take that as a positive.  In three days I need a volunteer to please remind me this is good and I am an adult who can do hard things.

And maybe be there to shove me through the classroom door.



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