Tag Archives: amtrak

Officer Matt

No matter where I travel, I always seem to return home with a story or two. Some have been quite interesting. Others downright show-stoppers. Last August’s girl trip had its moments as well. At first, we almost cancelled the whole shebang, because I am adamant about staying downtown near the Magnificent Mile. Because we dawdled a little too long, I wasn’t finding a hotel room for under $400. I love my girls, but that price was way over what I wanted to spend for a night’s lodging. I am in no way getting paid for this, but at the very last minute, I searched www.booking.com and (Shazam!) found a room for around a hundred dollars only a couple blocks from the American Girl store (which I failed to mention yesterday had moved locations since the last girls’ trip). I would be lying if I said I didn’t prance around the house saying, “Booking dot Yeah!” for a few hours.

When we arrived at the very upscale hotel, the concierge explained that if it was okay, we would be staying next door at their sister property. My elation at a good deal felt like the rug was just pulled out from under us. I am nothing if not a seasoned adventurer (Trust me people, I have slept in my van – not down by the river however – with three dogs while travelling back from North Dakota because there was no room in the inn for my four-legged buddies). My friends hate that I do that, but at least, I’m not like my one friend who used to camp out in cemeteries while bicycling across the country. I had no choice other than to agree to the relocation and hope for the best. The property really seemed more like an apartment building, but as long as we had a bed and bathroom we would be fine. We opened the door and nearly fell over laughing. We walked right into a one-bedroom townhouse complete with living room, dining room, kitchen, more closets than we could count, office, and lofted bedroom. We’re no dummies, and we thought we might be guests at the Roach Motel, but instead ended up feeling like we were real Chicagoans.

Union Depot, St. Paul, MN

Union Depot, St. Paul, MN

As unexpected as the accommodations were, my favorite travelling story happened before we even left the station back in St. Paul. Due to the oil boom in North Dakota, the Empire Builder is now historically late. In fact, we had been notified that we might be placed on a charter bus (which has happened to me before) to get to Chicago. Since we had a sleeper car and were not connecting with another train, we were part of the group that was left to wait for the train. The delay was only a couple hours; so, we did the best to occupy our time while waiting.

Sally and Kit can hardly wait for the train to arrive.

Sally and Kit can hardly wait for the train to arrive.

 

But we wait we did!

But we wait we did!

Eventually, the station master signaled the call for all travelers to line up for the platform.

Gate C to Chicago!

Gate C to Chicago!

After making it through the ticket gate, we descended the long escalator from the station to our assigned location. When you travel with little ones, you rarely get anywhere quickly. At the bottom was a smiling station security officer. As we were heading to our area, I heard a voice behind me.

Almost there!

Almost there!

Miss. Excuse me Miss. Do you have your ticket?

Sally and I both stopped and turned around, thinking the officer thought we were perhaps trying to sneak our way onto the VIP section of the train. I grabbed my boarding passes to show him.

No, I’m sorry, ma’am. I am speaking to this little girl here. Miss, does your friend (pointing to Kit, the doll Santa had given her a few years earlier) have her ticket?

A quick glance up at me told me she was asking if this guy was for real. Her glance was met with a shoulder shrug on my part.

Is he for real?

Is he for real?

Um. That would be tiny little ticket, wouldn’t it sir?

Indeed, it would be. Where are you two girls heading?

Chicago. We are going to the American Girl Doll Store.

Well, I see. This seems to be a pretty big occasion. I will trust that you have your papers in order, but that is such a tiny little suitcase for your friend. Do you think she has enough clothes packed for such a big day?

Well, we are only going to be there for two days. I packed her pajamas and a special dress for when we get to eat at the fancy restaurant.

Do you think you might need to buy her an outfit while you are there?

That was kind of the plan.

Okay, well that sounds good. Has your friend ever been to Chicago?

No sir, but I have once. I was a toddler, but this is a trip that my momma does with each girl in our family. Now it is my turn.

I would have to say that is about the most wonderful plan I’ve ever heard.

A loud whistle told us all the train was coming into the station. I quickly made sure that Clo (who still struggles to hear things approaching from behind) was far from the edge of the platform as we waited for Engine 27 to pull in. While we stood back, I spoke quickly to the officer.

Can I ask you your name? Officer Matt. Officer Matt, you just made my little girl’s day. Thank you! You’re welcome. I have a little girl about her age, and I think of my daughter whenever I see a little girl standing on this platform. I try to go out of my way to brighten her day, hoping somebody is doing the same for my little girl. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you!

It was all the conversation we could squeeze in, as the train was trying to make up time, and we needed to board quickly. When we returned home, I called the station and the security company and gave a glowing report of the magic of Officer Matt. The dispatcher was bawling when I got done with my story. She said that most of the calls they receive are complaints, but that no one ever takes the time to say thank you. It touched her so much that she decided to do the same and nominate Officer Matt for a commendation. Then it was me who was choking up on the phone.

That conversation on the platform probably took all of five minutes, but it left a mark on me and my mini-me which rippled out to the staff of an entire train station. The world needs a few more Officer Matt’s who aren’t afraid to use their hearts and their imaginations to brighten someone’s day!

The gift of reassurance

A lot can change in eleven years. Many of the very somber scars of my heart have occurred in the last decade. But I want today’s blog to be more upbeat. The most celebrated event of our lives was the birth of our baby (who despite all of our best efforts, at ten, is no longer anywhere close to being a baby).   Of course, there have been a few other changes, like our remodeling our home, gain a few pounds, lose a few pounds, trips to the hairdresser suddenly becoming more necessary, and instead of chasing toddlers, keeping up with teenagers.

Another difference compared to my life eleven years ago is the way I am able to interact with friends and family on a daily basis. Accepting the inherent dangers, the advent of social media has been a game changer for us. While definitely insignificant compared to the birth of our last child, keeping up with friends and family has revolutionized my world. While we do have cousins a little over an hour away, our parents live more than four hundred miles from our home. Sometimes, my best long-distance “connections” are no farther than a finger swipe away.

Last summer, I came to the realization that our baby girl hadn’t taken her trip to Chicago. Since our Boy Wonder is now a senior, I knew the clock was ticking on how much longer she would even be little. We checked the calendar, cashed in an Amtrak travel voucher, and packed our bags. A big send off by Sister and Sally Gal and I pulled out of the driveway. Sister’s parting words were, “Take lots of pictures and keep us updated.”

All Aboard!

All Aboard!

Throughout our travels, I posted snippets of our adventures. If it was a new and novel experience, a photo was snapped to document the memory. Don’t get me wrong! The point of the trip was to be with my little girl; so, I only shared highlights with my corner of the world.

Who knew that Kit dreamed of working as a valet at Union Station?

Who knew that Kit dreamed of working as a valet at Union Station?

 

Kit and Sally are ruthless card sharks! Ruthless I tell you!

Kit and Sally are ruthless card sharks! Ruthless I tell you!

Eating breakfast outdoors was nothing compared to eating in the middle of skyscrapers.

Eating breakfast outdoors was nothing compared to eating in the middle of skyscrapers.

I drew the line at bringing the stroller this time, but trust me walking like this takes a long time by any definition.

I drew the line at bringing the stroller this time, but trust me walking like this takes a long time by any definition.

Most of the comments were ones about my ridiculous ideas, but one comment completely caught me off guard. While not these exact words, I interpreted the message to be: I hope she appreciates all of this. Why is it that we can have hundreds of supporting comments and uplifting messages, but one small negative interjection can stop us in our tracks? Sucks the joy right out of you. Last year, I received my first hate mail on this blog, and believe me it was vile. At first, I was shocked, then saddened, then really saddened that someone could be hurting so badly to write hate mail about a blog in which I talked about the support we received when Reed died. In the end, I just wanted to find this person and give them a really big hug. I didn’t, but if you know me, that is exactly what I wanted to do.

My transformation didn’t happen instantaneously. The words ate at me for a long time. I actually talked to my pastor about it when our families were having supper one time. The same blog that elicited the vitriolic response was the one that opened the doors on my readership and in the end, tens of thousands of people read it. My sweet pastor gently explained how I would never please everyone and the positive comments far outweighed the one person who was clearly hurting. Just let it go, remembering I share my story to help people.

Which is exactly what I did with that comment on Sally’s gratefulness, I let it in and then I let it out. Or did I? God knows my thoughts, my doubts, my fears, and my hurts. As we were riding in the taxi to the station to head home, I snapped this picture.

The absolute best moment of the whole trip!

The absolute best moment of the whole trip!

Of course, this was after we were two blocks from the station, the first time, and realized I had left my phone sitting on the counter at the hotel. The AMAZING and MOST UNDERSTANDING driver ever let me use her phone to call the hotel, waited with my child on the street while I ran in, and still got us to the station on time. Can you say huge tip and a hug?

Anyways, after I snapped the picture, completely unscripted, my baby girl looked into my eyes and said, “Momma, I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough! This was the greatest trip of my life! Thank you, Momma, for buying me this baby, but mostly for taking me on this trip! I love you!”

God knew . . .  as I wiped away tears. God knew that the comment stung what I would like to think is my very tender heart wrapped in a tougher than I have ever expected it would need to be exterior. He also knew when he created this little (and grateful) girl the exact words of reassurance she would say that would forever melt my heart. I am abundantly thankful that he did!

Wherever you are today, may God use someone’s words to whisper into your heart!

 

 

The Magic of Chicago – the first girl’s trip

When the Girl Awesome was 4 years old, I stumbled across a great deal on travel. For $19 (that really was the cost), we could travel via train from Minneapolis to Chicago – ROUND TRIP. I called a friend and asked if she and her daughter, age 7 at the time, would like to join us on the journey. They did, and my friend found an incredible deal on a hotel. Both little girls were the only daughters in families with boys; thus, the whole point of the trip was to visit little girl mecca – The American Girl Doll flagship store.  Living vicariously through our daughters, I think we were more excited than they were.

So that August found us waiting for the beautiful cry of “All Aboard”. We packed extra snacks and lunches, lots of activities AND a huge sense of adventure to keep two little girls occupied on the eight hour trip. The first thing that caught their attention was the fact that the car directly behind ours was carrying the United States Postal Service mail. Eyes wide, they never realized trains might be one of the ways that letters made it to their house.

The trip was pretty uneventful (which I know is a huge disappointment to fans of this blog since EVENTS seem to have a way of finding me). Okay, there was the incident when we attended church on Sunday morning where the poor lady (who hadn’t seen God’s blessings in a while) came in screaming about how she needed help and the church wouldn’t help her. After a scuffle with the ushers, our little girls didn’t know what to think of all that. Truth be told, neither did we – other than to pray for her and the guy at Dunkin’ Donuts who kept asking for money.

We really wanted to stay on our budget; so, we planned to eat out once to indulge in Chicago-style pizza and once more at the American Girl Doll restaurant. We were hoping to find a little grocery store and luckily, there was a bodega across the street from the hotel. Immediately upon arriving, our girls were chomping at the bit ready to head down the Magnificent Mile (what divas!) to pick up their dollies. N was dreaming of purchasing a Molly doll, while Erin was planning to get the Bitty Twins. Having older brothers at this point in her life, she never wanted to be called by her given name and preferred to be called “Kyle” which is the name of one of her older cousins. I am fairly certain the allure of the Bitty Twins was that one was a boy.

me and erin chicago

We marched our way down that street, taking in all the sights and noises. Girl Awesome was enamored with the horse drawn carriages, mostly because the horses wore blinders. When we arrived at the store, we simply took time to soak it all in – it was everything we had dreamed it would be and more. Finally, we chose our dolls (and accoutrement) which let me tell you people could cost as much as your first semester of college tuition. My little girl chose the whole package (dolls, double stroller, and souvenir t-shirts for dolls and girl). I left looking like a bag lady, while shoulders back and head up with a beaming smile, my spunky four year old proudly sashayed with her babies down North Michigan Avenue. While waiting for the crosswalk, we all asked what the twins were going to be named. After a few thoughts, she narrowed it down to Daniel and Kandy (pretty proud momma moment there).

The Girl Awesome with our namesakes!

The Girl Awesome with our namesakes!

She, of course, wanted to push those babies everywhere the next two days. It was cute at first, but after schlepping that stroller which has absolutely no turn radius, the cuteness more than wore off on me – especially when I had to pick it up and carry it all.

Our little prairie raised girls got a whole education on interesting behavior on that trip. Our arranged AND reserved lunch (which if you ever are going to take your daughter to one of these stores is personally my favorite) had amazing food (think four stars), impeccable staff, and incredible attention to details (chairs and dishes for the dolls). We had an assigned time but arrived early as requested and then proceeded to try to make our way through all the people who did not have reservations. Eventually I had to cover Erin’s ears because mothers were shouting at the maître d’ words that I think would cause sailors to blush. Past that chaos, our time in the restaurant was amazing and magical and everything a little girl would dream.

chicago3

My family annually purchased memberships to zoos and science museums which we were able to use the reciprocity agreements while in Chicago, mostly for free. Using the free trolley for transportation also saved a ton of money; otherwise, we mostly walked and pushed babies. We attended the Museum of Natural History (long enough to see a dinosaur named Sue for our boys), Lincoln Park Zoo and the Chicago Children’s Museum. One afternoon, we stayed back at the hotel while my friend and her daughter (who was old enough) attended the play that was once a part of the American Girl Chicago experience. While they were gone, we went to the park and watched street performers and fed pigeons. In the evenings, we visited Navy Pier and took in the fireworks offered there, but from the amazing viewpoint of the former Hancock Tower.

On our final day, we voted on how to spend our time. The Shedd Aquarium won, even though it was a little more than our original budget. Eating sandwiches for supper was a worthy sacrifice, because the Shedd was worth every penny! But for this day, I decided that the dolls needed a break which was momma-ese for “I am not taking that ridiculous stroller or any baby I did not give birth to on that trolley one more time!” The room was in shambles, and we left “Molly”, who was clearly older, in charge of the sleeping Daniel and Kandy. Throughout the day, the older N kept teasing my little girl that she was going to be up all night if her babies slept the whole time we were away. This chiding continued off and on to the point, where the Girl Awesome was about to use up all her goodness and mercy.

Since this is something to fight over, it turned out it was N’s turn to use the key to unlock the door when we arrived back at the hotel room. I really wish that I captured her face when we walked in. The room was spotless, everything in its place, the babies were up and playing, and Molly was looking a little tired after a hard day of work. Astonished doesn’t even begin to describe it. N was  awed by her dolly, such an amazing babysitter who not only watched little ones, but also cleaned the whole room.

Even as early as preschool, our kiddos were pretty seasoned travelers. My little girl knew exactly who did all that work, but for the sake of her friend, she didn’t . . . spoil the magic of Chicago!

chicago2

May some little piece of childhood magic touch your heart today!

 

Riding the rails

After returning from Kentucky, one of my friends asked, “How was your trip?”.  I told her about the amazing trip God had planned for me.  I spoke about being awed and exhausted and about how the trip home was definitely an adventure.  She looked me square in the eye and said, “Traveling with you is ALWAYS an adventure.”

To say the station was packed was an understatement.  I have traveled the railways as far back as I can remember, and I knew from the looks of things we were going to have a full train.  I had really hoped to get a last minute sleeper car, because we were boarding at one in the morning.  However, I had no luck on that one.

railroad

After loading all the families and couples, only us single passengers remained.  There were four of us in a line – a college kid, an older woman, and elderly gentleman, and me.  Onboard, the lady was struggling to get her bags on the overhead storage rack, and the student helped her.  The older gentleman made a few loud, cantankerous remarks about wanting to sit down, and that was when it hit me.  He was holding the ticket to the seat next to mine!  Oh dear!

The other three were all seated while I stored my items above.  Like the roaring of a lion, his voice startled me.  “Well, at least, I get to ride next the prettiest girl in this car.”  A sheepish, flattered grin crossed my lips as my thoughts raced to, “Here we go” and “Who I am to argue with a septuagenarian?”!

Within the first five minutes, I knew this was going to be one interesting journey.  His response to my offer to place his portable oxygen tank above was met with, “I shot myself in the foot”. I am certain I had a look of horror in the dim light of the coach car.  A quick smile, followed a few seconds later with an honest assessment of “years of smoking”. Then he shared his whole life story – Korean War Veteran, married and divorced (twice), father of three, railroad worker for 43 years, and drummer in big bands his adult life.

Humbled, I shook hands with Mr. Jimmy S and thanked him for his service.   

Slowly the Cardinal (how fitting) rattled and rumbled as we headed on down the tracks to our ultimate destination  – Union Station: Chicago.  Any hopes of sleep were dashed as this old railroad man told me all about the intricacies of rail signals, troubles on the tracks, and engineers signaling off.  Mr. Jimmy  had me in giggles telling about his gigs over the years in the bands.  Quickly, I learned he lived a colorful life.  I discovered that we were both to be passengers on the Empire Builder later that day.  Eventually, exhaustion overtook me, and I fell asleep.

I rose to discover he was still awake and enjoying the ride.  He asked if I would accompany him to breakfast at the station because I had been a willing listener to all his old tales.  I accepted the offer on one condition: He must allow me to help him maneuver around the station.  It was a deal!

In Chicago, it became clear that Jimmy’s COPD was worse than I knew, and that walking was a challenge for him.  I learned these things because the redcap was not waiting for us on the platform as had been previously arranged.

Slowly, and I mean very slowly, we walked the entire way, pausing many times along the way, from the rail car to the VIP lounge.  I dropped him off with the promise I would come back as soon as I secured a sleeping car for the next train.

No sleepers were available, and I didn’t have the golden ticket of entrance to the VIP lounge.  I entered once and was turned back similar to the scene in “Titantic” where the passengers want to get out of steerage.  About twenty minutes later, I tried again.  I explained the situation which was exactly what I knew to be true and holy.  This man was from a different generation – where you didn’t leave a man (or female traveler) behind. 

I asked if they could page him so I could explain that I wouldn’t be able to travel or wait with him.  The desk clerk begrudgingly obliged.

Paging Mr. Jimmy S

Nothing

Mr. Jimmy S, please meet your party at the VIP lounge door.

Nothing

At this point, the agent began to question my integrity just as a gentle hand was placed on my shoulder.

Exasperated: Where have you been?

Looking for you.  I was worried.

Relief flooded every fiber of my being.  Somehow God put me with this older man to look out for him, and I knew it.

Then began the conversation I dreaded.

Did you get your ticket?

No, there weren’t any sleeper cars available; so I cannot stay here with you.

Well, why not?

Because this lounge is for first class passengers in sleeping cars.  I don’t have a sleeper; so I cannot wait in here with you.  I will be fine.  You stay here.  There are food, drinks, nicer chairs, television, and the newspaper.

I will not!  I want to stay where you are.  How far is it?

It’s not far, but that is beside the point.  This is where you should be.  You will be more comfortable here.  I will be fine.

No! I am going where you are!

Jimmy, I really feel like you should stay here.  Please just stay in this lounge.  It’s so much nicer, and you will be well taken care of.

I’m coming with you.

At this point the VIP lounge agent chimes in. Ma’am give me your ticket.  Do you have any problems riding in a sleeper car with this gentleman?

Um . . . no. (Knowing full well, I would be getting off the train before bedtime.)

Sir, do you have any concerns of this young lady riding with you in your sleeper car? 

Not at all.

Ma’am, I am giving you a free ticket upgrade. Enjoy dinner on us. 

You sir are a scholar and a gentleman.

What just happened here? This does NOT happen to my friends!

We went out for breakfast, and then waited the five hours until our train arrived for parts westward.  Of course, our waiting time was not restful, as more stories were shared.  During our wait my phone died; so, I wasn’t able to call or text home to explain what was going at the train station.

Finally, the time came for boarding.  This time, however, I insisted that the train company provided Mr. Jimmy a redcap.  We were driven basically from our lounge seats right up to our sleeper car.  Whew!

After a quick recharge, I sent a text to my husband to tell him, “ALL WELL.  SHARING A SLEEPER CAR WITH A GENTLEMAN.”

His response said it all, “What?  I am nervous.”

I explained that he was a 70+ year old Korean War Veteran with COPD.  I could outrun him. Trust me. God & I got this.

I don’t think he was convinced.

We rode for five hours, and again with no rest.  This time, I learned much more about his time in the war.  I almost lost it, when he teared up telling of an ill-fated night flying mission.  He was a flight gunner, and one simple mistake (not his) caused the loss of two whole planes and their entire crews.  He was on the only plane that safely made it back that night.

Finally, we were called for our dinner reservations. The jaunt to the dining car was a  journey in and of itself because our sleeper was eight cars away.  We had to pause twice in each car, just so he could catch his breath.  My heart was breaking because I would be getting off in an hour, but Mr. Jimmy would be traveling all the way to Idaho, arriving sometime late the next evening.  Who would take care of him?

At dinner, despite my protestations of being full, I was ordered dessert whether I wanted it or not.  This was a proper meal, and dessert must be ordered.  Stuffed to the gills, we made it back to sleeper as the engineer announced that the next stop was Red Wing.

I reminded Mr. Jimmy this was my stop and that we would be parting ways.  I needed to gather my things and get to the door platform.  I shook his hand and said, “Thank you for traveling with me today.”

I thought that was the end of our time.  I should have known better.  The ride into Red Wing is a little slower due to construction on the bridge there.  As I stood on the platform with the porter, I sensed a third presence.  Yep, there was Mr. Jimmy unsteadily waiting to make sure I safely got off the train.  In his words, no gentleman would allow a beautiful young lady to travel alone.  It was his duty to make sure I arrived safely.

When the train stopped, I showed him where my car was parked, and with a quick hug and a peck on a stubbly cheek, I disembarked with strict instructions to the porter to take care of my friend.

Walking exhaustedly down the brick platform, I begged God to not give me any more little old men for a while.

God obliged . . . for about a hundred feet.

There at the station, disembarking from another car, was a little old man who couldn’t get his walker over the tracks without it getting stuck.

I sighed, then threw down my bags and got him safely across.  On my final drive home, I thanked God for the time spent with one heck of a gentleman from a great generation.

So Mr. Jimmy S – Thank you for your service and for spending time with a girl on a train.

The long road home . . . Part 2

Photo courtesy of www.bmwmoa.org

Photo courtesy of www.bmwmoa.org

There were several things that I learned or realized about myself on my trip home.  One of the most sobering was, as the oldest grandchild (now without grandparents), I am one generation away from being the matriarch of a family.  That was a humbling and overwhelming epiphany.  Another affirmation was I will always be a Southern girl at heart, and there are just some things that only true Southerners appreciate.  A prime example is grits, which I savored every bite each morning on the train.  A third was something I have grappled with for a long time – not taking time for myself and something that my Nannie worried about.

As confessed yesterday, my aversion to flying played a factor in my decision to take the train to New Orleans and then drive from there.  But the reality of the having 31 hours of uninterrupted time was beyond appealing to this harried mom.  From the moment, we brought Reed into this world, I have put my own personal desires a distance fourth or fifth place (after Daniel’s, my kids, work, church/volunteering – you get the idea).  When it comes to making sacrifices, my heart’s desires are the first I throw out the window.

Another realization is that while I don’t remember my age half the time, my body certainly does which is why I inquired into the cost of a sleeper car accommodation for the longer train trip.  When I discovered how affordable it was, I took the plunge.  After I had paid the fare, the ticket agent explained all my meals were included, and my wait time would be in the First Class lounge (safe and seccure) where there are drinks, snacks, free internet, and cable for those waiting. Wow! I was just expecting a bed where I could stretch out.

Upon boarding my sleeper car, I learned that were other desirable perks.  Someone turns down my bed (complete with chocolates and water bottles), priority seating at meal times, fabulous meals rivaling some great restaurants, someone makes my bed in the morning, towel service with most toiletries available for the shower room, and my favorite: free beverage service with all the ice I could ever want is available the entire trip. I learned that I could sleep in and no one would care or ask me to make breakfast or find their lost shoes or backpack.  I could just sit in solitude and be peaceful without interruption or having to do the laundry.  I was amazed at how good it felt to be pampered. Manny, my porter, was sweet and compassionate when I explained the nature of my trip.  To be honest, he doted on me. I felt like the Belle of the South on the train.

After my first meal of amazing Cajun pasta, I retreated to my sleeper to ponder how I was feeling.  More importantly, why when I was travelling a grief journey did these small touches make me feel so special?  It didn’t take me long to come to the realization that it had been a very LONG time that I had done something just for me.  The only thing I regularly do for me is to visit my hair stylist.

My head swirled with thoughts of how did I get like this mixed in with memories of my Nannie who was all about pampering.  My Nannie took carpe diem to an altogether new level while I somehow live a life of self-imposed martyrdom.  What happened to me?  I don’t think I was always this worried, stressed or self-sacrificing.  I was not oblivious to the fact that I was impressed with pampering on the Amtrak and that I was not at the Ritz-Carlton.

This self-denial is a long and entrenched behavior, but on that southbound train, I made a promise to myself to start doing some things just for me.  Somehow I know that my Nannie would be saying, “Hallelujah! It’s about time!”  And who knows? I just might like it!

If you see glimpses of yourself in my blog today, please, please, please take time for you and write a response telling me what you chose to do for yourself.  I love to hear from my readers, and it would be an encouragement to me to keep my own promise.

 

The long road home . . . Part 1

22LVtrain1For the upcoming weeks, I am planning two series of writings about things near and dear to my heart.  This week will be about the adventure I took going back to Florida to help with the services for my Nannie (my maternal grandmother).  As a Christian, I did not go to say good-bye; I went to remember the amazing times and to say “I’ll see you soon”.  This travel blog will be about the things I learned about myself and the revelations that God had in store for me as well as remembrances of my Nannie.

Many know that I love a good bargain, and some know that I have a general aversion to flying solo.  So when the news of my Nannie’s passing arrived I wasn’t sure what to do.  I will be honest and say that my Nannie (whom I love and adore) had hoarding issues.  My quandary was to attend the services or to come at a later time to help with the clean-up (which I knew would be needed).  After hearing the sadness in my mom’s voice, I knew I needed to go for the services to support her.

Thus I found myself traveling by Amtrak (which I have always enjoyed) leaving my home at 4 AM in order to board on time. Right away in the depot, I met a delightful new friend who became my travelling partner on the first leg of the trip.  While awaiting the train’s arrival, we settled in on the vintage railroad benches in the original depot in Red Wing, MN, introducing ourselves.  It was an instantaneous liking that I am often blessed to find in my life.

She was travelling for business and was a first-time rail passenger with my journey more somber as a seasoned Amtrak customer.  We found seats near each other, and we watched each other’s items as one or the other of us walked about the train.  She settled in working on Christmas cards, and I settled in and slept (not having done so much for the week prior while fretting about my Nannie).  Later during one of our visits, we discovered our mutual love of our dogs – both being the proud mommas of goldens and our mutual love of all natural foods.

She was simply a gift as my long journey home had just begun.  We made plans to perhaps go out for dinner in Chicago, but due to a late arrival and my choice to upgrade to first class sleeping accommodations, it just didn’t work out.  We exchanged information and her Christmas card (so sweet), and we said our good-byes. It was a few moments later that God’s first revelation on this trip hit me.

A week before I left I had seen a sweet little story about childhood friends reconnecting over Facebook after many years. I spent a couple afternoons looking for my elementary best buddy, Teresa.  We were inseparable but lost contact when my family moved away.  My searches were fruitless, and that left me sad lamenting about the old saying that some people come into our lives for brief moment while others last a lifetime.  I am certain my enhanced melancholy had more to do with trying to keep my mind busy while my Nannie was lingering in the hospital.

As I watched my friend ride the escalator up out of the belly of Union Station, God revealed to me that He did answer my searches . . . just not the way I was expecting.  My new friend that He provided to usher me along the start of the journey was named –  Theresa!  With a few tears came the recognition of a reaped blessing through a prayer answered in God’s perfect way!