PARTY LINE

“The phone call is for you” said my husband as he opened the bathroom door.   I acknowledged by asking him to tell my mother I would call her back.  Of course she heard our entire conversation because he had the telephone in his hand when entering the room.  I can remember the days before portable phones when a person could be in the powder room and not announce your business, but alas, those moments of privacy in the privy seem no longer possible,

One such embarrassing encounter began in a public restroom when I was greeted by the lady in the stall next to me with a cheerful hello and then asked how I was feeling.  Well, having three sisters, a BDIL (beautiful daughter-in-law) and I work in a building full of women – all this supports the assumption that I am accustom to having conversations separated by a stall wall.  So I responded to her query by telling her I was fine.  The woman answered with “good” and inquired next with “what are you doing”.

Now that question caused me to pause because I was pretty sure we were both doing the same thing yet, ever the one to avoid the appearance of being rude, I continued the chat by responding with a pleasant “not much” and waited for her to continue the conversation she had initiated. She continued all right, by letting me know she was not talking to me and that she was on the phone!

Modern conveniences now help us be available all the time to everyone. Obviously, there are a few adjustments I can make to accommodate the telephone’s twenty-first century’s take on the “party line”. First, I should always lock the bathroom door even when just the two of us are at home and second, when there is a wall – don’t talk to strangers!

STARTER HOME

The newlyweds are thinking about purchasing a house.  Third floor apartment living is fine for them, but the lure of being a homeowner has taken hold so now they are in the market for a suitable home that accommodates their busy lifestyle and budget.

My husband and I are thinking about moving too.  Yes, we do a lot of thinking without doing anything about it.  We just can’t get motivated enough to tackle packing our twenty-six years of living in the same house into marked containers.  It all is so overwhelming when we look at the accumulation of “life” in the closets, shelves and garage to imagine all this stuff could actually live with us somewhere else.

However, there is another side to the story.  Although we resided in three locations before this house, this is the place in which our son grew up and calls home.  For over two decades we have had the same neighbors on the north, south, east, and west sides and my sister lives down the street.  It’s a bit of a pull to break away from this much history.

Passing the quarter century mark has made me nostalgic about our little piece of property.  I am looking at our home in a different way as I examine our living space by asking myself what makes a house a home and how do we represent who we are as a family to other people.  What will be remembered?  

When I was a little girl my Aunt Wanda had a lovely guest bedroom painted a subtle shade of lilac.  The room was filled with antique white furniture and the bedspread had tiny purple flowers on it.  It was my favorite room in her beautiful house and I loved to sleep in that room! She actually called it “Charlotte’s room” making a twelve year old feel secure in an insecure world.  She continued sheltering me with gentle kindness and understanding well into my adult years.  Wanda understood life was complicated and with southern hospitality her home became a respite to visitors as she shared Scripture, sang a hymn and ate a meal together. 

Aunt Wanda has a new address now and I can’t visit her any more.   She was born April 26^th and died eighty-one years later on April 26^th.  She lives in Heaven in one of the many mansions Jesus has prepared for those who want to live with Him for eternity.  It’s a nice “starter home” and she didn’t have to pack anything – because it is already perfectly equipped for a lifetime of living!