Rebecca H. Cooper's Blog, page 5

O Captain, my Captain

My cousin and best friend growing up was widowed suddenly several years ago. She and her sweethusband had been planning a cruise for the following year. After he died, she didn’t want to do onething that they had planned together – except for this trip. She asked if I’d like to go and of course I saidyes.It was a great adventure and included the opportunity to stand a few feet from – and gaze upon (as myDaddy would say) – Rembrandt’s “Return of the Prodigal Son,” hanging in the Hermitage Museum in St.Petersburg, Russia. Our itinerary included a stay in England, half a dozen other countries, countlesscities along the Baltic Sea, palaces, and other sights to make this Tennessee kid’s head spin.But seeingthis painting was the only thing I had put on the list. And viewing it was incredible – no question. I’llnever forget it. But you know what I remember more often from this voyage? It was a message thatcame out of the ceiling every morning.Our evenings were pretty consistent. Like our fellow travelers, she and I would socialize the night away,then find our stateroom and our pillows as our ship continued to steam through the darkness. Firstthing every morning, a bell would ring and the loudspeaker over the bed would activate. And then ourCaptain would say, with conviction, “Good morning! Today we are exactly where we ought to be.”I believed then – and I still believe – that, wherever we are in our journey, that reassurance is about themost comforting thing that any of us can hear. Today, I hope we are all exactly where we ought to be.Thanks Captain.

Captured moments

Our monthly “Out of the Box Book Club” meeting was this week. As usual, we had a rollicking good time with great food and fellowship. We never know what the host of the month will cook up both literally and culinar-ily (is that a word?), but anyway it’s always a treat. And the fact that it’s mostly church friends in no way limits the gloves off approach to candidly (kindly) sharing our thoughts and feelings about each month’s book choice. I picked one once they all HATED.This last one was pretty sweet though. We had read Fannie Flagg’s “Can’t Wait to Get to Heaven,” and it would be hard not to feel enriched and uplifted by that story. Someone had asked me last Sunday if I was enjoying the book, and I’m like, it’s about HEAVEN, you KNOW I am. It really is a great read and, if you don’t have it, a worthy addition to your bedside table.I often go home after any of our meetings still thinking about the evening and pondering some of the questions. Charles’s name came up this time which is extra sweet, but also one of the discussion questions really stayed in my head – “if you could relive a moment in time, what would it be?” You just instinctively know it would be hard to pick, but I immediately felt a smile as my mind went back to this picture from when the kids were little. I rooted around until I found it.Since, they were adopted at older ages, we probably hadn’t even had them that long. Halloween is obviously getting close, and Charles has them on the kitchen floor. He’s practicing butcher knife safety I’m sure (right, Charles, right??), and they are all digging down into that pumpkin to clean its little insides out.The photo I took says it all. While Charles helps them turn a pumpkin into a jack-o- lantern, our older daughter is going to maintain just a tad of pristine distance so that her little velvet romper stays clean. She wants to participate but maybe she can do it all with only one hand. The younger one, on the other hand, is practically wearing that bowl and has already unzipped her little sweater because you know, if you wind up wearing those pumpkins guts too, they might as well be on your belly.I doubt I get to actually relive any scene any time soon as a character in our book did. But, thanks to friends and Fannie Flagg, I’m reminded of this one - and that’s close enough today.

Your turn

Lost lamb. Rescue obviously begun. Someone propped this baby out in the open hoping for recovery. That was kind. Vulnerable there, but necessary if its real owner has a shot at finding it. Wearing some grass clippings, but that just means the mower guy knew it too and didn't mess things up. Sweet.OMGoodness. Talk about blog rich. But today...I think all I'm supposed to do is show you what I saw last week on my morning walk -- and let you compose your own thoughts.

Of unicorns and memories.

I have one grand who lives pretty far away and so I don’t get to see her as often as I like. But when I do,there’s almost always something special that goes down.She and I recently kept company and I hadsome things to give her when it was time for her long car ride home. I explained that her presents werein Papa’s car and, as we were walking to it, I asked if she had any memory of him at all. I couldn’timagine that she could; she was so young when he died.She stopped a second and then said, “I think he thought my little pony unicorn was a horse!”Now thatmight have been the last thing I expected her to say and I have no idea in the world if Charles everplayed that game, but it sure made me laugh. At the same time, a part of me had a bit of a gut grabbecause I thought there’s no way she could actually remember that  and it would be such a preciousmemory if she could. But then she looked up at me and said, “But you know, I’m not sure. Sometimes Ithink that maybe it’s my dreams that I think are memories.” She was clearly okay either way.Our family and friends made the decision almost from the beginning that we would never NOT talk aboutPapa. Over the years, the painful memories have gradually become smiley ones, for everybody. But shewas the one most deprived of time with him, and I’ve always hated that. Now it seems that somehowthose conversations have also transformed the memories of a baby. This sweet child is ten years oldnow and in that moment she handed a gift to me far greater than anything I could ever have in the carfor her.

Queen. For a day.

If you had a chance to read my birthday blog last week, you know how grateful I am to: (a) still be having them and (b) to have friends and family who never let one go by unnoticed.Today’s blog though is a reminder that attention comes with a price as I learned once again this weekend celebrating with the Steel Got It Girls.  Under the guise of we’ve done all this ancestry research and you must be a direct – DIRECT – descendant of the resplendent Queen Victoria – comes this portrait.Just let me say… a sincere thank you to all my friends and family who made my birthday weekend so special.  And to certain ones of you – payback is heaven.

Shall-Remain-Numberless Candles

Well, yikes, I have a birthday coming up and I am willing to tell you THAT, but we are NOT going to talkcandles.Dates of birth have always been special in my family. If you’ve read “Hey, God? Yes, Charles,"you know ways that family and friends stepped in that first year to fill the void for my first birthdaywithout Charles. They’ve been doing it ever since.It means a lot to be remembered on your birthday. My mother celebrated mine for 20 years (we couldcredit my daddy too but we all know, with her cooking, he was just happy that I had been born andthere was cake :) Then, one way or another, she and Charles did it for the next 38. But within fivemonths of my 58th birthday, they were both gone.I’m not going to say that my birthdays are just dandy. I miss the people who are no longer here. But,after 2007 and as long as he was alive, my dad never let one roll around without producing a cake and apresent. And he always gave me a precious card autographed the same way: “Love, Dad” - and then hewould sign his name - first and last. I get tickled now just thinking about it.Other family and friends kick in too. Birthdays can linger for days! I’ve hosted a Coop Troop slumberparty (that I didn’t know was going to happen in my condo which was so small we had sleepers on theporch AND at the neighbor’s next door.) I’ve been kidnapped by the Steel Got It Girls for relocation toChicago (everybody on board that Southwest flight joined in the roast which pretty much took the cake.)I’ve been chauffeured and enrolled in art class by the Daisies. I’ve been treated to more fun meals andflowers and entertainment than I can count.People are busy, this kindness is a big deal, and this blog is to thank all of you who never let birthdays –for anyone - pass unnoticed. Because the best gift of all is being remembered by the people we love.There are not enough candles to measure that.

A Piece of Change

Nine years later, I still hear Charles stories that are new to me. The latest gift came while catching upwith an old friend during a luncheon.I just love her, and Charles did too. Of course, we talked about himand especially the pleasure he took in learning new guitar music. She leaned over to me and said shehad wondered if he had time before he died to finish learning “If I Could Change the World.” Huh? Asfar as I knew, I was the only person who would connect Charles and this song and I didn’t even know todo that until after his death.We shared our mutual stories. Mine was shorter. The day after Charles died, I found this Eric Clapton musicin his briefcase. I had never seen it before. I even scribbled a note and the date in the corner. Butbefore that, I read the words, and I cried. Her story almost made me un-cry.What she shared was so perfectly Charles.We all originally met because she worked in a one womanoffice for a non-profit in which Charles and I were active. He served in many ways, and would go byoccasionally during lunch just to check in on her and the boss. She had a teenage son who was goingthrough teenage stuff with an extra helping of other things, and was sometimes at the office with her.The two boys had already struck up a friendship through their common love of music and so Charlesalways enjoyed catching up with this guy.Anyway, on this Friday, they were all there and I guess part ofwhat was going on was that her son was having a particularly hard day. He was in a separate room, lyingon the floor, staring at the ceiling. She said Charles found him, took off his suit jacket, and lay downbeside him. They just talked and one of the things they talked about was that Charles was trying tolearn how to play “If I Could Change the World.” Neither mother, nor son, ever forgot it.This kid is now a world class drummer, who travels nationally and internationally with some countryfolks you would probably recognize. Full credit goes to this fine young man and his wonderful family.But I’m betting Charles (and who knows how many others) contributed some small change to the cause.2016 is giving us some pretty shrill voices, all promising to change the world in big, big ways. I don’tpretend to know who, if any, of these big talkers can actually do that. But I do know that it wouldn’t bea bad start for every one of them to follow Charles’s simple beat - meet people where they are…find acommon bond…listen. You know, the small stuff.

Unplugged

“Louie Louie” and I sometimes cruise the highway together. It’s easy now to rock out to tunes from anyera and I might be that girl you pass who is dancing in her seat belt. Old hits make me smile and nonemore than when they transport me back to the days of high school and Charles.I moved to Nashville my senior year. I came kicking of course and screaming “it’s my life!” “Help!” But“mama said” “papa had a brand new bag,” so come I did. But then, Charles was in my new senior classand, miraculously, “I was into something good.” There were a bunch of other good kids in that class too,many of whom, thankfully, are still in my world today. We were pretty innocent in the 60’s, even in our“hanky panky,” but we still had “fun, fun, fun” “eight days a week.” School was good enough that“Monday, Monday” wasn’t dreaded. And while Charles and I didn’t actually start dating until after ourgraduation party, one that ran pretty much “all day and all of the night!,” I figured “time was on myside” because I “heard through the grapevine” that he thought he’s “got to get me into his life.” Andfrom that moment, Charles was “my guy.”No matter that for two years our dates seesawed between“happy together” and “the tracks of my tears” in the usual way of young couples. We even dated otherpeople as we attended different colleges (so mature), but it was half-hearted. We discovered that“breaking up is hard to do” and one way or another, managed to keep “hanging on.”Once when mycollege buds and I were cruising the local hot spot and had just pulled out, we met him heading in. Hehadn’t seen us so “with a little help from my friends” I whipped a u-turn, pulled in behind him,“stopped! in the name of love!” and acted like we’d just gotten there. I was “too proud to beg,” but nottoo proud to do that! It worked.Charles is rolling his eyes at this walk down melody lane. His music and his talent were way moresophisticated than mine, more Chicago than Tommy James & the Shondells, and he’ll think this blog issweetly lame with my bubblegum music taste. But he would “stand by me” because, three years afterwe met, “can’t help falling in love” married “respect” and ultimately, Charles was “back in my armsagain” for good. We found our lives would “get no satisfaction” without each other and we worked hardnot to “lose that lovin’ feeling.”Back in that day, I never thought about losing Charles himself. Once the unthinkable happened, Ilearned that the opportunity “to love somebody” is a gift. I did and do “believe in magic” and it happensevery time I hear our song.  "Unchained melody” reminds me “ain’t no mountain high enough.”Gosh. Lame or not, I hope you’re in a place where you can “second that emotion.”

Waiting out the tantrum

The son and daughter-in-law of dear friends are in China right now adopting their precious little girl,Willa. They've waited a long time and when the news came, this side of the world was just aboutdancing in our streets.They are sharing their entire story and all of it is worth reading, but today I wantyou to hear the tough part. There’s a lesson for us all and this young mother tells it far better than Iever could. Her words are accompanied by a photo of a wailing 16 month old and an almost equallydistraught new mama. I won’t share that, but I will share this. I quote:“Gut wrenching. That’s really the only way to describe the last 24 hours. Yesterday was a hard day forseveral of the families in our travel group. It was flat-out terrible for us. I would give anything to getinside all of these little minds, to know the root of each tear. Their dark eyes are such mysteries, sobeautiful and devastating. These babies are scared. I think yesterday their reality started to settle in.This isn’t a dream. This isn’t temporary. For us, the adults, it’s impossible to put ourselves in theirshoes. So many times, I have just tried to hold her and convey in any way I can that Mama’s sad too.But really, I can’t completely be 'in' her pain, because I know the end of the story. I know the smiles,the family vacations, the nursery, the friends, the beautiful life awaiting her on the other side of theworld. As I hold her scared and furious little body, writhing in pain she can’t convey, I see a glimpse ofhow my Heavenly Father must see me. Heartbroken and ever-knowing. I imagine all the times He’s heldme close, soothing me with truth as I push and kick...”One way or another, we all wake up one day and, whether it happened quick or slow, our life haschanged. It may be impossible to see ourselves on the other side of that change. It’s not a dream. It’snot temporary. We’re scared and we’re furious. We try every way to pick a fight with God. And justlike this baby’s new parents, who are patiently taking the hits and the screams and the sadness, Godwaits us out, giving our tantrums and our attitude a season, and a reason, to subside.Hold on, Willa. They’ve got this.

Team work

I’m headed out of town to a small wedding this week. I wouldn’t miss it for, as a friend of mine used tosay, all the tea in China. You don’t have to know the details to believe that this vow moment is a wowone.The ceremony will occur in the most unlikely of circumstances. Shakespeare would be perversely proud.The bride and groom have waited a long time to find each other, maybe wondering a little along the wayif they ever would. While their love is pure, their path has been muddied with complications not of theirown making. More than one thing has threatened to spin out of their control. They’ve had to makenew plans and redesign old ones. They’ve had to rely on strangers and friends in ways foreign. They’vehad to lean on each other before they’ve even had the time to build the deep trust that developsthrough years of marriage.And, yet, they have persevered by picking up whichever block became a boulder and, as a team, tossingit aside – sometimes just in time for the next boulder. Their challenges would give many couples pause,and maybe change minds. But not these two. They’re a team, and they will approach marriage as ateam – even before those vows officially bind.These two are important to me and I’ve hurt for them at times. But I’ve been inspired more. They’veenjoyed the giddiness of getting married. They’ve kept Jesus smack in the middle, without pretendingto always be happy with the moment. None of us know what life will throw our way or, frankly, how itwill end. Charles and I were married for years before we had to face some of life’s toughest challenges,while this couple is getting some of their take-downs early. But their reliance on faith - and each other –means something.When they look back on their life together, no matter how many years from nowthat is, they will be able to do it in the light and love of Jesus, and each other.