When the ordinary is actually extraordinary

The other day I found myself looking at the ordinary and seeing the extraordinary.

The picture above appears pretty blank and perhaps meaningless.  This is the (former) fireplace at Mommy and Daddy's house.  This mantel is around 100 years old and is located in what would have been her old family's living room.

So what is extraordinary about this?

Well, years ago before electricity and lights, and stoves, and television, the fireplace was where families gathered.  It was the hub of the house.  Whereas richer families had sitting parlors, regular families often used this area to come together at the end of the day.  The fireplace was the source of heat for warmth and cooking.  It was a source of light.  Maybe Mama would be sewing while Daddy read from the Bible.  Perhaps the children were doing their schoolwork or playing a game.  Here sat extended family when they came for a visit. 

The flickering fire was comforting and an invitation for relaxation.  With this, the hearth became symbolic of the entire home; thus starting the saying "hearth and home".

But even more extraordinary but very appropriate was that such mantels would be elaborately decorated.  Of course, such a featured area of a home would deserve such attention.  The mantel in the picture above was pieced together ornately by Mommy's "Papa".  Her granddaddy, Addison Stephenson, designed this decor.  His hands placed all these pieces, especially impressive in a time of no power tools or such.  Mr. Add (as he was known to many) gave extra care to this family gathering spot.   How meaningful then and how meaningful now.  Still here through the century....pretty extraordinary to me.

Goodbye Red Bag....

Today I say goodbye to my red bag.  This ever present bag was also known as my "hospital bag".  It's spent far too much time by my side.  I bought it to hold anything and everything I might need during trips to the hospital with Mommy and/or Daddy.  I bought bright, shiny red on purpose.  I needed it to stand out and be easily seen or found in moments of need. 

When I think of red now, I realize it's the color of extremes: danger signs,  anger emojis, fire blazes, and blood.  It tells us in signs to "stop" and "do not enter".  In retrospect, maybe I should have chosen a different color.

This bag has held it all:  lots of med lists, doctor's notes, calendars and reminders, notebooks and pens.  It held phone chargers, magazines, books and a
book light.  It held change for vending machines and a multitude of snacks.  Mommy liked chocolate or nuts.  Many times it held a Boberry Biscuit for her.  Daddy liked circus peanuts, Boston beans candy, and orange slices.  (most of the time Laura always got them into the room for him before me).  And of course, nabs and Maple Nut Goodies (the official Baker family candy) were staples.  I used my red bag to bring extra underwear and to hold extra hearing aide batteries. 

The bag also held things from home...my Bible, bills to pay, christmas cards to address, Lib's scholarship or college applications to review, Pharmacy readings, and my list of things to do once home again.

I'd throw in a sweatshirt....hospitals (especially nights) can be cold...and lonely.

Looking back, I realize my bag held more than these things.  It held worry and concern and fear.  It was there for me but mostly in tough times.  Inside the bag is a small pocket.  I kept the pocket full of faith and hope and laughs and good times. 

I liked it most when the bag held good news and discharge papers.

So today, I say "goodbye red bag".  I'm moving on.  Maybe I'll get another red bag:  one that is the color of ladybugs or roses or cardinals or red hearts and ruby slippers.