"Do it now" said the sign on my Daddy's workshop table. Nike has a logo that says "Just Do It!" One of my favorite writers/speakers, Elisabeth Elliot, had a memorable saying: "Do the next right thing" (referring to the ever-asked - What am I supposed to do?) All of this sage wisdom came to the top of my mind when Ken and I asked our annual question, usually pondered during our anniversary trip (somewhere in the Southeastern USA, once a year, could take place any time from late January to March). The question is: "If you had the power to change one thing about me, what would it be?" That is a loaded missive, having the potential to ruin a romantic weekend. But one that we all need to sincerely ask each other and be willing to take the truth of it. Ken's answer to me, for many years, has been the same: "I wish you could handle stress better." He has said that so many times, I told him he had to come up with a new one this year. I've been on a long mission to change my freak-out ways, but it might just be that I'll have to be dead before that happens. As Ken would say, "It is what it is." Since I've boxed that one up and put it on the shelf, though still having the label facing towards me, he came up with another one: "I wish you would finish what you start." A slight humming began to take over my ears and the tinnitus returned. Because this one truly hits where it hurts.
I love a new project. The vision, the dreaming, the fact-gathering, then the supply-gathering. What stings is the prep for anything worth doing. It might mean moving furniture, killing the dust bunnies lurking there, washing down walls, taping things up, pulling out a ladder or twelve. Then there's the euphoric first brush strokes or the new patterns emerging. It's going to be gorgeous! I'm in the zone, working like a Trojan. Then the phone rings. I put in my ear buds and get back at it. When the battery fails, I have to plug all manner of things in, and meanwhile I remember I haven't eaten in 10 hours. You would not know by looking at me that I ever forget to eat, but yes I do. And then I overeat because I'm starving. So there's the meal, putting up my sore feet for a bit, stopping for the new episode of Hometown, then my mojo stalls and Ken arrives from work with a messed-up house and a sleeping wife. He, the Marine-worthy guy who gladly does the same routine 500 days in a row, just to keep things on an even keel. Then God gives him the Queen of Chaos. I like chaos. The juggling is what makes the world go around. Or is it the Marines? Inquiring minds want to know.
In thinking about Ken's great wish for me, I remembered my DNA. His Mama, he and I were crafted from the same mold. MawMaw's house was ever in a state of half-finished jobs. Two-day-old dishwater in the sink, a washing machine with clothes molding from who-knows-how-long ago, and planting pots half-filled with soil and strewn through the house. She went to plant something in the garden and the phone rang. Then Jim and Tammy Faye came on the TV so she devolved into a nap. Her kitchen floor was always partially mopped and you could see where she stopped because the mop was still there. My own Mama is nothing like this. Don't tell me God doesn't have a sense of humor.
These kinds of people generally marry Marine-kind of people. At first, the Marine thinks the Scattered Ones are delightful. They are interesting, fun and passionate. The Scattered Ones think the Marines lack on the creative side, but they feel secure and begin to contemplate that maybe there is hope in the world instead of sheer mayhem all the time. Time goes by and the Marine's plans are constantly getting thwarted or ignored. The Scattered feels stifled. There's capacity for lots of conflict and then there is war. Many marriages don't make their way past this. I recall a few dishes flung and even a fist through a wall in our early years, all of them by me, not the Marine. Who'd have thunk? I have to say, if that hunk of beef starting throwing things and putting holes through walls, I'd have been calling his Daddy and mine too, while I swiftly departed the driveway. He's too big and hairy to not take seriously.
So even with all that, we made it through. I've learned to restrain my temper and do the talking early, before it escalates to stupidity. And he has learned how to show me love and to admit his own weaknesses. It's still a work in progress, with lots of God-grace showered all around.
Back to the sign: "Do It Now" -- I wrote that mantra on my calendar board in the office this morning. These are my word(s) of 2026. Daddy learned to do that pretty well. His yard and home were beautiful, along with Mama Marine's housekeeping skills. He had a long, successful real estate career after he retired from the Postal Service. I think it's because he reminded himself on the daily (and maybe hourly) to Do It Now. Plus, he truly cared about his clients and people, and that rarity made Doing It Now worth doing. May I be like Daddy...
And as for Ken asking me that loaded question, he didn't, but I told him anyhow. It had something to do with his qualifying round at NASCAR (in my 2018 Ford Explorer). Please tell me there's hope...
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