Spilled grits, ladders, and a writer’s dreams for the New Year

by Julie Lavender @JLavenderWrites
I stopped by the grocery store on my way home from work, as per my mom’s request. Just one item. If I could locate it, I’d be in and out quickly. Picking the wrong aisle, I encountered a ladder blocking the entire walkway.
Chuckling to myself, I defied Grandma’s silly superstition and ducked under the ladder rather than retrace my steps to go the long way.
On the next aisle over, unbeknownst to me, someone had spilled a bag of grits and tiny, unseen grains littered the floor. I promptly slid across the floor like an ice skater with no grace whatsoever, arms flailing. I might’ve even squealed a little just before I landed on my southern keister.
I was barely sixteen, but that worldly experience made me ponder the validity of Grandma’s superstition…at least that one.
I grew up with two grandmothers in mobile homes, just across the side yard from our old farmhouse. Both were women of God and had strong faiths, but my mother’s mom was also oddly superstitious.
We didn’t dare wash clothes on New Year’s Day or we might suffer the consequences of washing someone out of our life that year.
Dropping silverware meant someone was coming for dinner.
An itching palm meant money coming our way, and an itching foot meant we’d walk on new ground. Being the poor farmer’s daughter that I was, neither of those seemed to work in my favor because we were always low on cash and couldn’t afford to travel to new territory. In fact, the diagnosis for my ten-year-old, itching foot one year was a ringworm. Surely that could be blamed on a black cat ..
This same Bible-reading, hard-working, God-fearing woman who took superstitions seriously didn’t believe that God wanted women to wear pants. I never saw her in anything but a handmade dress, even when she went out to hoe the garden or pick peas. She also never watched anything on television except Little House on the Prairie, because she thought modern TV shows were the ruination of us all.
I couldn’t help but think of my grandmother this past New Year’s Day. I made sure not to wash clothes that day just in case, and I followed her directives at mealtime. I nibbled on a few greens, ate some black-eyed peas, and added ham to my plate. Coins in my pocket, good luck, and good health—hopefully my lucky lunch will provide all those things for me in 2023.
My grandmother reminded us each year that whatever we did on New Year’s Day, we would do the rest of the year—another superstition.
For fun, I made sure on January 1 to fit in as many of the activities I’d like to do this year as possible.
I spent time in prayer during my morning walk, exercising physical muscles and spiritual ones, too.
I spent time with four generations of extended family over lunch.
I baked homemade bread, using the sourdough starter recipe favored for years. I hope to enjoy cooking and baking often for my little small family still at home, and I’m hoping my adult children will visit me frequently and expect cookies and treats when they get here!
I made sure to read a couple of chapters in a book for pleasure, a nonfiction chapter about writing, and my Scripture reading for the day, but not necessarily in that order.
I worked on a newspaper column in hopes that writing assignments and projects would be plentiful during the year.
My husband and I drove to the next county over to enjoy an afternoon walk on a nature preserve. We talked about dreams and hopes for the upcoming year on the drive.
I talked to all four of my adult children and the favorite grandson.
Just in case there’s something to Grandma’s silly superstitions …
How about you? What did you do on January 1 this year that you hope you’ll do all year long? In my prayer time that day, I prayed for writers, in general and with specifics. I plan to pray for many of you this year, that your writing dreams and goals will find much success!
Oh, and by the way … I’m not superstitious at all, in case you’re wondering, because my faith lies with the One true God and Creator of the universe.
Except for that ladder thing … the jury’s still out on that one …
TWEETABLESpilled grits, ladders, and a writer’s dreams for the New Year, insight from @JLavenderWrites on @EdieMelson (Click to Tweet)

Published on January 11, 2023 22:00
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