The Junk Drawer

Most houses have a junk drawer. It’s usually somewhere close to the kitchen or laundry room. Maybe you have two junk drawers. It is the drawer that holds things that don’t seem to go anywhere else, or the things that we need and use a lot and we need them close and easily accessible. Here is a list of the things in a typical junk drawer.

Pencil, pen, ruler, tape, highlighter, stamps, chapstick, batteries, scissors, paperclips, a doohicky that holds an ace bandage on, screws, nails, letter opener, scratch paper, stapler, paper clip, little gold bell, screw driver: standard and Philips, red eraser. some random plastic something that may not be needed, but we are afraid to throw it away because what if it is, whistle, white out, etc.

In the junk drawer we had growing up the most useful and handy item was the ruler. Not for me, but for my Mama. She used it often for all kinds of projects, but on occasion she would need to get one of the brothers back in-line, when they were misbehaving. She could open the drawer and grab the ruler in one swoop and hit one of the brothers on the bottom end with it. They would usually laugh, as they ran from her, because she’d hit them on the pockets of their jeans which provided too much padding. I never worried about the ruler, because she never used it on me. Thank heavens!

Junk drawers are interesting and helpful, and a necessary part of a home.

Kindergarten Teacher/Nurse Dreams

As we go through our young lives, it’s not unusual to decide what you want to be when you grow up. I always wanted to be a Mama, and feel so grateful that I have had that blessing in my life. I thought I might need to have a job besides being a Mama. I thought for sure that being a teacher would be the best job! Think of it, crayons, glue, paper, all kinds of art projects and bulletin boards. I would dream of putting large Alphabet letters up all around the room and teaching the kids to sound out words, and to learn what 1 + 1= and all kinds of important things relevant in life. I would have twenty kids in my class and they would call me teacher. They would need a hug once in a while and pep talks like, “You can do it!” I would have a smily face stamp to stamp on their assignments, and stickers, too. I would tell their parents how much I love being their child’s teacher.

I would say, “That’s it! I’ve decided I want to be a kindergarten teacher!”

Then a little time would go by, and I’d think, maybe I want to be a nurse. They do so much good. They help people feel better. They get to check peoples blood pressure and heart rate and oxygen level. They can hold someones hand when they’re scared or upset about something that’s wrong with their body. Or I could help with important life saving surgery. Handing the doctor the instruments needed to complete the task. Of course we never think about the not pleasant stuff like blood, throw up or poo. But seriously I really wanted to be a nurse.

Then I graduated from high school.

I said, “I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up!”

Then an opportunity came available to go to cosmetology school. I love hair, and make up and finger nails that are painted. I will do this!

I graduated with a certificate in cosmetology, and got my license. I worked in a little shop for a bit while I was pregnant with my “First Born.” I have kept my license and even had a little shop in our home for about 8 years. I love doing hair.

Now that I’m older. I have to say, I’ve never been a kindergarten teacher, and I’ve never been a nurse. I still admire the people who do those jobs and sometime feel like I wish I could have done it all. Of all the jobs I’ve had, I love my Mama job the most. I got to teach them and nurse their wounds and hearts and cut their cute little hairs. I even got to teach, nurse and cut hairs on some adorable daycare kids through the years. In our family we have almost always needed income from me, so I’ve had a ton of jobs. Because of a sweet and amazing husband I’ve been able to move around as much as I’ve wanted. I am grateful for him and his steady income. I am also grateful for all the jobs I’ve had in my life. I’ve learned so much and hopefully I’ve blessed others along the way.

One “Stitches” At A Time-Pointy Finger

When I was in first grade I had the prettiest teacher. Her name was Miss Peacock. I loved her. The fact that I loved her and that she was pretty has nothing to do with my story except that this experience happened while she was my teacher.

All of the children would go to the restroom together, either after recess or just a restroom break. It was always busy with girls coming in and out of the stalls. As this was a routine and we did it everyday, one little girl had pinched her fingers more than once in the cracks on the side of the stalls. She would stand with her back to the stall and put her fingers in the cracks on either side of the stall. I thought why does she do that? What is the fascination with putting your fingers in the cracks. I made a grave decision to put my fingers in to see what was like. As I did the child inside the stall opened the stall door which pinched my fingers, but especially my index finger on my right hand. I cried out in pain, and pulled my hand from the door. My pointy finger was bleeding and the skin was torn. I didn’t go to my teacher, I went straight to the nurse’s office. All the schools at that time had nurses at the school full time. I remember holding my hand in front of my face and crying hard as I walked to the nurses office. I knew she would help me and call my mama.

I remember laying on the small cot that was set up in the nurses office with bandages and ice on my finger while I waited for my mama to come get me and take me to the hospital. The pain coming from my hand was immense. I kept going over in my mind what had happened and thinking why did you do it? Why did you put your hand in the crack? I must have had bigger fingers than the little girl who I saw do it before, because she was never hurt like I was. It was one lesson that I will never forget of doing something dumb because you saw someone else do it.

We lived in the country, and the school was a distance away our home, so it was a little while until my mama got there. Then we had to drive to the hospital which was about a half an hour away. When we got to the hospital we found out that my finger was broken and was almost torn off just below my nail. It was stitched together and I was given a splint to hold my finger straight while it healed. I learned to write with my index finger straight in the splint. And it healed very well. I have good use of my finger, almost the same as the left index finger it just looks a little scarred up. My finger nail isn’t real pretty, but I’m ok with how it looks.

All said I learned a valuable lesson that day to choose wisely what you do, don’t follow others if their choices are negative, or have a negative outcome, think about consequences- they are part of life and are based on laws that cannot be changed. I feel sad writing about this experience, because I know that little girl (me) that struggle so much, but I always know the woman I have become and how I have overcome so many challenges and come out of those experiences successfully. I always felt God’s love for me as a child and I knew He would help me with life.

One “Stitches” At A Time-The VW Bug

When I was about 4 years old, I had my first experience in a long line of experiences getting stitches. I was climbing on the back of the VW bug that my parents owned and fell. I don’t know for sure how it happened, but I cut my leg on the license plate in the process of falling. It was bad. I had to have many stitches. I don’t know why my parents never counted, because I sure would have. The cut ran lengthwise on my inner thigh and was at least two thirds the length. I remember my mom running out to see why I was crying, and then the look on her face. She had to run and get a washcloth to hold my leg closed. I spent at least a week recovering on the couch in the living room. When I needed to go potty, someone would carry me to the bathroom and wait, then carry me back. I was so sad that I was hurt.

Since my Daddy passed on, my Mama has given me quotes from his journals. One of the quotes said. “May 22, 1966, Joy cut her leg real bad when she climbed on the back of the car, a few weeks ago but it is healing. Jo and I had to pack her around everywhere for about a week.”

One thing that made my time on the couch not quite so boring, was that some of our neighbors brought me over some coloring books and crayons, which I totally loved. We lived in a great neighborhood.

Little did I know at the time that I would be getting more stitches as I was doing my best to grow up.