the Richeys' bricks

Keith and Dorothy Richey, a lovely retired couple, live down at the corner. They've lived there as long as I can remember. If they moved in after we did, I don't recall, as I was busy changing diapers and making dinner.

The Richeys' corner just so happens to be a bus stop for the public school kids. When my kids were in school, that corner resembled a school playground every morning. Girls giggling and generally behaving well, and boys, well, being boys. Smacking each other with book bags. Yelling and whooping as boys do. Pushing - and yes I witnessed this - each other into the street. The other thing the kids did was to hold onto the street sign pole and mindlessly run around and around like hamsters on a wheel. This activity effectively killed a circle of grass there on the Richeys' corner. I'd remind my own children to refrain from this, because it was someone's yard, but seeing as how most kids suffer from amnesia and/or hearing loss, the spinning continued.

One day I saw Keith and Dorothy out by the street sign. Oh, dear: they're trying to plant more grass on that sad spot. But no.

The Richeys had assembled a small pile of bricks and were fitting them together on the ground around the pole. They fashioned a neat miniature "patio" for the kids to pound their careless little feet upon.

No calling parents. No fist-shaking. No yelling. No threats. Just a simple solution that conveyed an understanding of kids and a love-your-neighbor attitude. And it told this parent "it's no big deal."

All these years later, the bricks remain. And every time I pass, I think of how some people have it right in life. The Richeys know what's important and what's not. They showed that getting on a high horse about little stuff like dead grass is a waste of time. They cared more about children and being a good neighbor than their lawn.

Thank you, Richeys. I want to be like you, off my high horse.

Note: as I was taking photos of their bricks, Dorothy stuck her head out the door. "Whatcha doing, Barb?" And so we chatted and I met their new puppy, Dawn.

encouragement in a fabric store

Encouragers appear in unlikely places ... like fabric stores.

This week I made, oh, a third trip to Joann's fabrics in my quest for a fabric to recover some cushions. No indecision this day, no sirree. I resolved not to leave that store empty-handed.

Though I try to shake it off, a funny feeling washes over me when I enter a fabric store. Melancholy. Slight anxiety. Sentimentality.

My mother and I spent considerable time together in fabric stores through my teen years. She hated to sew, but I'd grown to love it, and she loved that I loved it. So off we'd go. In my earliest sewing days, the nearest fabric store was housed in an old colonial house in downtown Avon, Connecticut. I mean old, like 200 years. The ceilings were so low that our eyes burned from the fabric fumes. Fabric fumes? Yes, mom and I were convinced of fabric fumes.

Saturday afternoons found us studying pattern books and strolling past fabric bolts. We let our fingers gently brush the ends of each fabric, as if testing for the right weight and texture. I still do this today.

All these years later, I often visit a fabric store alone and I feel, well, a bit lonesome. The girl inside me needs a woman who's willing to give opinions on colors, study pattern books ... and touch fabrics with me.

This week's visit: looking, touching, remembering. Right colors, wrong weight. Right weight, wrong colors. A woman older than me was busy selecting quilting fabric and I asked her, "excuse me, do you think any of these fabrics would work for covering cushions?"

I knew full well they would not, but she looked friendly and experienced.

"No, probably not. Too lightweight." She smiled. "And do you want all cotton, or a blend?"

"Oh, yeah. Probably a blend." I thanked her and moved on.

Thirty minutes later, checking out with my brightly colored floral piece, the clerk ran her hand across my selection and said, "ooooh, I love this!"

I answered, "oh, I'm so glad!" Then felt a little silly.

My unwitting encouragers had stepped up. It felt good. And I realized we all need encouragers, and to be encouragers. It's one reason we're all on this earth together.

So encourage each other with these words.

1 Thessalonians 4:18