Grizzard Connections

 "You will never have to be more patient with someone than God is patient with you."

For 15 years, beginning in the late 1970's, Lewis Grizzard published a daily column in the Atlanta Journal. He was as Southern as they come, an avid GA Bulldawg fan, and apparently not super great at relationships (married 4 times). In addition to his column, in his career he published 26 books, performed stand up comedy and ate a lot of fried chicken.

Despite popular opinion in my house, I wasn't old enough to read Grizzard's column for much of the time it appeared in the paper.

Plus I was too busy transitioning from Sweet Valley High books to Flowers in the Attic series to read Grizzard.

The only books my dad ever read were Lewis Grizzard books. He owned a large stack of them purchased used of course.

Sometime in my college years, my dad loaned me this stack of books to read.

I read them all.

Not because they were particularly my style, though in parts the man is pretty funny, but because he trusted me with his books.

As an avid reader, I know what it means to loan a book that feels like a friend to you. While you could easily pick up another copy if something happens to your book, it won't be the copy of The Outsiders that you read in high school, that is traveled through all the years with you. It won't be yours.

Recently my brother, who is settling my dad's estate, and I were talking about the "things" in his home.

I mentioned that the only things I would like to have (if he didn't want them) was this stack of Grizzard books.

Last weekend they showed up in my garage (confession - teary moment when I found them because no one is more thoughtful and intentional than my brother).

I don't have fond memories of any of the furniture or decorations in my dad's house. When I see the table, I think of the fussing about us needing to sit up, be still, eat it all. When I see the couches I think of the awkward visits in my adult life when I tried to make conversation, attempt connection. When I see the fork and spoon on the wall (did you have one of those?), I remember focusing on those rather than my parents current fight.

I don't want to carry those things with me. Even though the "things are not the person."

But this stack of books represents the one time I remember my dad attempting to make a connection with me.

The one time he seemed to SEE something that mattered to me.

I see you like to read - this is what I like to read.

That's a memory I can honor and carry.

A connection.

In our own home, we are currently shifting our storage from a large area into a much smaller area.

It's forced me to touch every single item we've kept over the years.

This stack of books has taught me that what I save to pass on to our kids needs to represent a CONNECTION.

I need to take the time to write the story of the thing.

Because the thing won't ever be the person.

Mama Warriors, it's likely your kids won't remember the majority of things that you bought/gave to them.

They will remember the moments where you stepped into their world.

The connections.

So, as you bundle up today (drip those faucets) I remind you to take the time to play the Pokemon game even if it sounds like a foreign language.

Step into their world and find the connection.

The laundry will wait.