...and there it was in the Salvation Army...

Thursday, longing to be out of the house for a bit,

I head to one of my favorite Thrift stores. Other people

may bar hop when lonely, I thrift store hop.

I am not looking for anything special, just a place

to spend an hour or two, finding enjoyment in digging 

trough others trash. I decide that day that I am going to tackle

all the old books. There are many there.

It's a smorgasbord of a store. 

I found many beauties that day.

Many to add to the library I will have.

The fact that two books for the price of one is

going on, adds to my excitement.

I pull books out, I read the titles, I smell them,

I look for those added treasures that only used books have,

the hand written dedications, the forgotten about book marks,

I find some pictures in one, another

with a handwritten note from a mother to her child

going away to college. 

Then I come across my "find of the day"

HEARTSTRINGS OF LAUGHTER AND LOVE

A TRIBUTE TO MOTHERS

There is a beautiful books full of vintage photo

pages, full of writings and poems all about Mothers.

Each one I read, I am pulled to a memory,

a time in my childhood.

This one book, along with about 30 more, come home with me.

It is comforting to me at a time when I miss my Mommy so much.

Last night this is what I read:

HOME IS MEANT TO BE A PLACE WHERE

HUMAN RELATIONSHIPS ARE TO BE UNDERSTOOD

FOR ALL THE SITUATIONS IN LATER LIFE,

AND WHERE A SHELTER IS TO BE FOUND

FOR ALL SORTS OF HURTS, PHYSICAL

AND EMOTIONAL 

-edith schaeffer

Ironically this reading has me going back to a time with

my daddy rather than my Mommy.

I speak of this time often when I am out doing 

motivational speaking.

Let me take you back there:

I am a little gilr once again, have

been teased by my peers about my unruly, curly hair,

my brown stained teeth. I do not tell any of them

that I earned those things by fighting for my life,

the aftermath of chemotherapy and radiation.

No, I speak nothing of this in second and third grade.

Instead, I laugh with them, when they call me 

"bird nest" I pass my hands in my hair.

When they ask why I didn't brush my teeth, 

I smile big. I have already learned that to fuss, get mad,

cry in front of them will only add fuel to the fire.

Instead, I make fun of myself.

Until the end of the day and I get off that bus,

I turn my back to a yellow bus full of those who tease,

and I walk the few feet to my house.

I know the tears are building up.

I think,

"Never let them see you cry"

I walk into my front door of this very large but

very run down home and there is my sweet daddy,

sitting in his chair, his face lights up when he sees me.
That man is not the one some of you may remember when
he was older and sick but the man who has watched his
little girl fight for her life, and won.

I begin to cry, I go to him, I spill all that has happened

to me on that day,

He is not a man who can show affection easily unless it 

comes to one of his little girls who is upset.

There, in his arms, he gives me the best gift a father

can ever give his little girl.

he says to me words that I use often, exactly what

I needed to hear to build the self esteem I have still today.

"LILLY, IT DOES NOT MATTER WHAT THE WORLD

OUT THERE THINKS OR SAYS ABOUT YOU,

THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS IS THAT

WHEN YOU COME THROUGH THESE DOORS

OF OUR HOME, YOU ARE LOVED."

A great man, he was, such a multifaceted man,

who rarely used heartfelt words, that day,

he gave me self confidence that has followed me

through my whole life.

I was  one lucky little girl.