Greasy, scraped up, and left in a pile amidst all of my other belongings in the church hall I looked at my favorite George Foreman grill with disgust. There was no way in this world that I would even consider cooking a Spamsteak for my dog on the thing the way is was returned to me. There was no way I wanted to try to load it into the back of the Little Black Stallion, take it to the apartment complex I was fearfully calling “home” and try to clean off what reminded me of every painful memory instilled by the man who I thought had wrecked my life. I just looked at it, I’m sure with quivering lips and tearful eyes, trying to keep it all back with Maycee by my side and said, “Anyone who wants this can have it.”
The church hall was being used as a collection station for the annual May rummage sale. The church hall was also being used as a dumping ground for what were the pieces that had been left behind in a house that held nothing but remorse and humiliation and dwelled homestead to a man who predicated tornado upon tornado. Because I wouldn’t set foot in the house, he was told to deliver my personal belongings to the church, which he did, in no uncertain callous terms. Many items broken, with no care whatsoever taken to organize them or even a meager attempt to protect the fragility of mementos, he left boxes and clutter for all to see without warning. I got the call from a church friend early one morning before work asking me if I knew all of my “stuff” was there…in the church hall…blended nicely with items that were to be sold, proceeds to be used for various projects. Of course, I didn’t know.
That was then…this is now. Over three years later I eagerly anticipated his arrival last week. With birthday money received back in August, I had to give in to the notion that I could actually spend it on something frivelous, something I wanted and was easily surviving without, something that would signal to me yet again progress made, something that to me means staying put, believing in home. This time…I’m…not…letting…ANYONE…take…him… from…me.
George Foreman, WELCOME TO THE YELLOW SUBMARINE!
Sunday in between working myself to the tailbone in the yard and keeping tabs on my daughter and her little neighbor buddy while they played, I decided to invite George out of the box, finally! He’d sat in the patio room for about a week, and now, even though I was tired and felt like putting my feet in a large pan full of ice I decided to put him together. After all, the box would be put to good use (as you can see), and I was ready to enjoy a small pleasure I had left to others for the last few years whilst I sculpted my life back, declared myself NEW AND IMPROVED, and let Maycee blossom once again into a vibrant bouquet. I found the perfect spot for George on the corner of my deck, close to the patio outlet, and smiled a grin that I’m sure spanned earlobe to earlobe with total satisfaction. He was shiny, he was clean, he was perfect.
After the bags of yard clippings were taken to the trash, the little neighbor buddy went home, and our pumpkins (being the eve of Halloween) were on the table ready to carve, I plugged George in, popped off his lid, and threw some tri-tip steaks on the grill that I just happened to have in the fridge. Within minutes they were sizzling with seasoned salt, and as I watched them cook to just the right amount of faint pink, I felt my shoulders drop and a sense of accomplishment hit deep down into my belly-not only because I knew the meat was going to taste fabulous, but more so because christening George affirmed to me one more tiny step in the right direction. I’d cook a lovely Spamsteak for the dogs on this guy; pan-frying to the wayside, I plan to cook many things for many people for many years to come–all on my new George.
Readers, can you tell this was a momentous occasion? Why, I bet you can!
It takes time…everything takes time…from following the offthebeaten paths of experience to grilling the perfect tri-tip steak. But, when you actually get the grill (pun intended) to do it, LOOK OUT!
I’m happy to say that I will have a guest post this Friday featured on The Monster In Your Closet’s FTIAT (For This I Am Thankful) guest blog. I am humbled that I was asked to participate as Deborah has become one of my inspirations to continue sharing my lessons of strength and hope. I encourage you to visit her amazing site. Have a fantabulous rest of the week, be happy, and give a chuckle.