Transposing Chords

My first retirement check is already in the bank, and it’s only 5am. I just checked my account online, and poof! There it was, nestled snugly into my checking account, just waiting for me. What a surreal moment this is. I can’t seem to wrap my head around money that I didn’t physically work for.

I have worked my entire life; I can’t even remember a time when I didn’t work. We weren’t exactly destitute growing up, and we never went hungry but there was not money for extras. Sometimes there was not even money for things that weren’t extra, so we learned to do without those things.

My mom made a lot of my clothes, either from fabric bought at the local "dime store," but many times made from feed sacks. My dad raised chickens, and the chicken feed came in patterned cloth sacks; sometimes my mom would go to the feed store with him, to pick out the sacks she wanted. Those sacks would get emptied, washed and ironed, then magically be turned into new dresses and shirts late at night, after we were all in bed. My mom could sew beautifully, but she hated sewing so she waited until all six of us were in bed before starting; she had an old treadle-type sewing machine, non-electric, powered by rocking the foot board back and forth underneath. Many times I remember waking in the night and hearing the peaceful sound of the sewing machine’s whirring, and I knew one of us would have a new outfit in the morning. It was truly a labor of love.

I longed for boots; it was the 60’s and short, white "go-go" boots were in style. I wanted a pair so badly that I could almost taste them, but I knew better than to ask. I knew there was no money for such frivolous things as white boots. I had watched too many times on Sunday night as my dad counted out lunch money for all six of us for the whole week. He would line it up across the top of the TV, and it would be waiting for us to grab on Monday morning as we headed out the door. There were no go-go boots, but there was always the lunch money.

As long as my home chores were done, I was free to work for ladies in the neighborhood, and so I did. After working for several hours on Saturday morning at home, I would then walk next door to JoAnn’s house many times to do her ironing. She paid me 10cents per item. Other days I would walk over to Barbara’s house and wash her dishes; she was a good housekeeper, but she hated washing dishes. She would literally use every single dish in her house before calling to me across the fence, and asking me to come over and wash them. The first time I walked into her kitchen and saw all the dirty dishes stacked in the sink, on the countertops, on the table and on the stove, and even on the floor, I was almost overwhelmed. But I just did what later became a pattern for me when I didn’t know where to start on a project so big: I just picked a place and jumped in. At the end of the day, every dish would be clean and dry and back in its place, and I would walk home $2.00 richer.

Every cent I earned was secreted away in an old pickle jar, and would eventually be spent on things like make up and jewelry, but just as often on underwear and pantyhose, and on pens and paper and binders for school.  Even then, I knew that education was the way out of poverty and I dreamed of the day when I would not have to scrape by; those white go-go boots became a symbol of things that I would someday have, of the life that I would someday live.

You know the end of the story; I was the first one in my family to graduate from college, and I did live out my dream of becoming a nurse. By then it was the 70’s and white boots were no longer in fashion, but I was able to buy the things that I wanted. Most importantly, I never forgot what it felt like to do without things, and God placed into me a spirit of generosity and a desire to help others. I am forever grateful that He did not allow me to become self-centered or selfish but instead opened my eyes to the needs around me, and opened doors of opportunity for me to extend a hand to others. I gave away as much as I spent.  I have lived a charmed life.

Which brings me to today, and the retirement check that miraculously appeared in my account. I’m not sure if I will ever get used to this idea or if it will continue to be my own little private miracle every month. Whichever it is, I am so thankful for this season in my life. Whichever it is, I look forward to new adventures and I am running full force toward the horizon; I am running like the gate is open, because I know it is.

College, circa 1972, wearing striped pants I made from feedsacks, sitting on cushions also made from feedsacks!