Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Quiet goodbye

Picture this: 5:45 pm, I-285 rush-hour bumper-to-bumper evening traffic in Atlanta the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, Iowa-trained driver behind the wheel of a 17' U-Haul truck with a tow bar hauling an Acura Legend, and Ray Charles' "Georgia on my Mind" playing on the radio. That was me almost seven years ago when I arrived in the state for my very first "real" job. My departure will be much less dramatic. Lunch with friends, one more drive down the connector, and an evening flight to the west.
In the last few weeks, there has been much looking back, much reminiscing, and recalling pleasant memories of this home-away-from-home for all these years. When I make my quiet exit there will be trails of pictures scattered behind me like colored confetti thrown over my shoulder catching the breeze and slowly weaving downward. I will remember Eden-like springtime with dogwoods and azaleas. I will remember the magnolias and hydrangeas, the smell of gardenia after a summer evening rainstorm. I will remember whipped topping clouds that tell stories and cool autumn mornings. I will remember the daphne and camellias of winter. I will remember kudzu, and boiled peanuts, and peaches, and collard greens, and fried green tomatoes, and Vidalia onions. I will remember kayaking on the Chattahoochee River, climbing Stone Mountain, apple picking, and garden hopping. I will remember the rainstorms and the rainbows. I will remember my mornings with the cardinals and Moroni. I will remember all my travels with Tilly (may she rest in peace). I will remember the granola co-op and the Arab meze party. I will remember the farmer's market and planting season. I will remember the temple. I will remember creative writing and bike-ride commuting. I will remember institute and visiting teaching. I will remember tunnel and cutting cardboard. I will remember throwing out and bedding up. I will remember customers and shipments. I will remember finding myself and letting go of fear. I will remember Easter picnics and ASO concerts. I will remember bell choir and oil painting. I will remember live oaks and Spanish moss. I will remember tubing and ice cream at Bruster's. I will remember all the closet prayers. I will remember the tender mercies. I will remember my answers.
And I remember the people and the kindred sprits and the friendships. I will remember my Relief Society sisters. I will remember my temple sisters. I will remember so many faces and stories. Natalie. Jenni. Sarah. Tarryn. Amber. Nikki. Benjamin. Brooke. Christiana. Mia. Eryn. Stephen. Rreza. Hannah. Tamra. The Cheesman's. The Heaton's. Mollie. Roger. Germaine. Janet. Julia. Tim. Yvonne. Hitomi. Sprice. Ginger. Becky. Irikefe. Leslie. Dawan. Amy. Melanie.
Georgia has been good to me and I will remember her.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Reason no. 82




















Dear Dallin,
I love sharing an umbrella with you. Just thought you should know. That is all.
Love always, Liezel

Lost Keys, Lost Time, and Lost Shoes

Recent events have strengthened my testimony of my Father in Heaven's interest in the details of my life.
Case study one: Lost keys. I have a little peg that I always hang my keys on in my room--well, almost always. About a week ago I forgot to hang them up before going to bed, woke up the next morning and they were no where to be found. I had a bus to catch and so much to do. My room was kind of cluttered. I looked everywhere, but no keys. Feeling like I had done everything I knew how to do, I pled with Heavenly Father to help me find them--quickly. While I was praying a very gentle thought came to my mind that they were in the seat of my desk chair. For whatever reason I had looked EVERYWHERE but there. I finished my prayer and pulled out the chair, and plain as day, there they sat. What a merciful Father to hear such a simple prayer as, "Where are they keys?" But He does and I am so grateful.
Case study two: Lost time. Last weekend I went home for my sister's college graduation. My plane had a connection in Denver. I was to meet Dallin there and then we we continue on together flying to my parent's house. My plane from Atlanta was delayed for electrical problems and because of a major storm system in eastern Colorado. The entire plane flight I had a prayer in my heart that somehow I could make my connection. It was the last flight of the night. My sister's graduation was the next morning at 8:00 am. If I didn't make the Denver connection there was a good chance I would miss her ceremony too. My layover was just 35 minutes. The plane arrived at the time my flight out of Denver was scheduled to leave. I resigned myself to the fact that circumstances were out of my hands, and that I would have to make alternative arrangements. With just a bit of hope, though I rushed off the plane (amidst a lot of other passengers with my same dilemma) and found the agent at the head of the gate. "Has the flight to Salt Lake City already left?" I asked nervously. Her answer was truly a miracle. No it had not. The plane I had just deplaned was the same plane that would take us to Salt Lake City. My worry and stress over a circumstance out of my hands turned to gratitude and elation that the timing and orchestration was not in my hands. How perfect! How merciful! What a blessing! I made my flight, I found my Dallin, and the lost time did not affect our travel plans.
Case study three: Dallin bought a really fantastic pair of new Sunday shoes over the weekend in Salt Lake (along with a two-pant suit, belt, three shirts, and two ties--handsome, yes indeed!) When we went to the airport he carried the shoes as a carry-on in their original box. In Denver he set them down on a console near a restroom and because of the other things he was carrying, accidentally left them and several hours later discovered his mistake. He returned to the console, but the shoe box and shoes were gone. What are the chances of recovering a brand new pair of expensive leather shoes in an airport with thousands of people teeming to and fro in a constant flow? I thought it rather unlikely. But, we made it a matter of prayer. Wonder of wonders, some kind soul turned in the shoes to the lost-and-found and they were picked up from the airport just a couple of days later. Again, another miracle. Another tender answer to prayer. Another demonstration that Father in Heaven is anxious to bless and help and hear simple, everyday requests. I am so grateful.

So, so grateful.