If I Had a Nickel...
on anniversaries and the number five
Ever wonder why some numbers seem to stick out to you more than others? Some call them lucky numbers, and others refer to them as “angel numbers.” I don’t know about any of that, but what I do know is I’ve always been drawn to odd numbers. Maybe that’s why the number five’s been on my radar lately.
“Wow, if I had a nickel for every time I was doomed by a puppet, I'd have two nickels - which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.”
- Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz
You didn’t know you’d signed up for Phineas and Ferb quotes, did you?
It’s been five days since I returned from an impromptu girls trip to Naples. For months I’d been wondering and worrying how to best head towards my first Mother’s Day without Mom. I’d hunker down, keep to myself, and just ride the wave of all the feelings on my own. An overnight trip with friends was never a consideration, until it was. It came about in the way these sorts of things usually do: a random comment made in a random conversation among friends. And away we went, and I can no longer say that I’ve never been glamping.
It’s been almost five weeks since they started work around the house. A bathroom remodel, and new floor, baseboards, and paint in every room of our home. So much noise. So much dust. So much back and forth and upstairs and downstairs and not a single corner of this house feeling like home. Until now. They’re done, I love my new floor, my reading nook is back, and all is right with the world again.
It’s been just over five months since Mom died. I find myself scrolling through photos more often these days. Stumbling across videos I forgot existed. I actually shared one on Instagram from Mother’s Day 2019 (yep, five years ago). How can a number represent so short and so long a period of time at the same time? Five months isn’t that long ago, really. Yet it seems like a lifetime when I think about seeing her face (not in a photo), looking in her eyes, hearing her voice, holding her hand, reassuring her that everything would be okay. My first Mother’s Day without her included a visit to her grave. I never used to be a visit-my-loved-ones-at-the-cemetery kind of person. I am now, apparently. Her headstone still isn’t in, so it’s just that stupid little placeholding rectangle with her information shoved into the ground. It was as awful as I had imagined. No amount of planning ahead with how I’d deal with the feelings was going to change that. But it came and went, and I’m here on the other side of it. A tangible expression of the Lord’s strength shining through and sustaining me in weakness.
It’s been five years since my first blog post in what I was hoping would be the last blog I’d ever start. I’d had different topical blogs over the years before this, as well as writing in journals for a lifetime. This marked a new intention and vision for my writing and sharing my words publicly.
I had lots of plans for all the words I’d be writing here this year. Like written out in a very official looking monthly plan kind of plans. That Loving Others: Practically Impractical in So Many Ways series will still be a thing, at least for now. But lately I’ve been leaning towards incorporating a little more impromptu and spontaneous around here. This post is a good start - not part of any plan, just sat at my laptop and started typing.
I guess high fives all around are in order.
Until next time,
Becky
a few more words…
A look back at five years of favorite posts:
Garden of Gratitude
“'Thank you' is the best prayer that anyone could say. I say that one a lot. Thank you expresses extreme gratitude, humility, understanding.” Alice Walker When I was a teenager and would lay in my bed preparing to drift off to sleep, I used to thank God in my prayers for everything he had done for me that day. I wouldn’t really get into specifics, mind …
The Random Musings of a People-Pleasing Perfectionist
I've been thinking about some things lately. Specifically, I've been thinking about some words and what they mean. (Who am I kidding? This isn't breaking news: I've thought about what words mean before.) Do the words people-pleasing perfectionist mean anything to you?
What Is Love, Anyway?
The importance of love is pretty well established. My deep dive on the subject began with a question: What's love got to do with it? Well, the most excellent way of love has everything to do with it. In true Becky fashion, another question rises up to the surface: What is love, anyway?
Dearly Beloved: A State of Being, Not a Destination
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called 'life.'" Prince It's unstoppable. Without a doubt, that intro to Prince's song immediately plays in my head the moment I hear those words. Dearly beloved. It starts with a word.
Still Here
Words are clothes that thoughts wear. Samuel Butler I’m often inspired by the view just outside my writing desk window. It’s where I find myself writing most days, and today’s no exception. There’s a woodpecker hanging out on the tree outside that window. He’s there often. I’m assuming it’s the same bird, and I’m also assuming it’s a he. I’ll blame the la…
Love this, Becky, and so sorry for the loss of your mom. Grief is such a strange journey--similar in many ways to everyone else who's ever grieved but also uniquely different. Thinking of you as you continue on the path of healing.
Also, I had to share that my favorite number is five--I'm not sure why, I just like the way it looks and it seems to pop up a lot for me. I don't put any value in it, but I thought it was cool that it was woven throughout this post.
Happy to have found you here on Substack. Like you, I'm a serial blogger. If I'd stuck with one topic/theme, I'd probably have thousands of posts by now!
I loved this post. First, I'm truly sorry for your loss. I can only imagine how difficult it's been, but I'm glad you got to get away for Mother's day and hope it was beautiful.
I mostly always write without a plan. I mean, I have loose topics always floating around and I take notes about ideas throughout the week, but 98% of the time, I sit down not having any idea the direction my post is going to take until i start typing. It's a weird thing, I think, but it feels sort of freeing in a way and somehow, I think, we find ourselves coming back to the same themes in our writing.