Milestones, Markers, and Guideposts

 A credit card company sent me an "anniversary" letter today. I applied for their card to save on my flight when I was moving here 4 years ago. Four years? Already?

Thinking of the stupid credit card anniversary had my mind sliding right into corners I try to avoid at times. I start to think of my life's milestones as mile markers. Let's mark the year this person died or that person. Let's mark the year since this or that. And when I am in a certain kind of mood, these markers that dot my life don't make me feel better.

I moved here a couple of years after my sister died. Another "anniversary" reminder. 

There is a piece of notepaper taped to the inside cover of my Bible. When I put it there about 2014, I started adding dates I was having trouble remembering because of the sarc that was creeping into my body. I had the marriage, birth, and death dates of my parents and grandparents. Birthdays of some of the nieces and nephews. Not too long of a list, really because I was adding things as I could recall them correctly.

2015 was the year when my list began growing. I had to add my sister's death, then a "play" sister, then aunts, uncles, ex-husbands... 

I hate to even look at that list now. I play a pointless and silly game with myself called "If I Don’t Look at It, the List Won’t Grow". I feel so faithless when I play that game.

Today, I caught myself about to play the game again and I stopped by asking God for comfort. When I made the brief prayer, I realized that not all is said and bleak. There are those wonderful points in life called Guideposts.

We saw this SOOO many times!

Guideposts - or what my dad used to call Travel Signs or something like that during the days we drove so much. We drove a lot. Whenever Daddy was given a new assignment, we drove from one Air Base station to another. We drove to visit family in Texas, Louisiana, South Carolina. I remember (very vaguely and with a dreamlike haze) driving through Wisconsin, Utah, and maybe even Florida? 

In those days of our family travels, there were no Google Maps or GPS. Mama was the navigator for Daddy, reading maps and watching for exits and turn-offs and signs that might be hidden behind branches or something. We ate bologna sandwiches from meat kept in a cooler and sometimes were given little sweets that Mama pulled out of her purse and handed around. It was during these years when I fell in love with Honey Buns. The Honey Buns back then were not the pitiful and puny little additive-laced things I sometimes pick up these days from around the store's checkout aisle. The packaged, ready-to-eat Honey Buns of my youth were never as good as what my mom and aunties could bake but they were so danged good. Thick and rich and gooey. The closest thing I can come to the taste now is packaged butter cake treat that Walmart sells.

So we would ride and eat bologna sandwiches and honey buns and get road-schooling. Daddy gave history, geography, and math lessons using scenery, locations, and travel mileage. He would often point out a marker or guidepost and tell us something about a place off to the east, west, south, or north of our location.

Even with my poor short--term and not-much-better long-term memory, I can recall some of the guideposts of that time. And I realize that my life - all our lives, really - are marked like any other journey.

What life sometimes feel like: 
beautiful and scary

I can't go in reverse to any of the markers in my life. I sometimes wish I could. For now, I just think back on them. 

That email from the credit card company bummed me out until I started writing this post. I came here to whine and then all the sad stuff in my head got knocked out by all the good stuff I can recall. There are going to be more markers in my life - good and bad. But isn't that beautiful? Isn't it just life? Even though it makes me sad sometimes, I'm glad for my life. One day, there will be Heaven and I won't even mourn the mortal markings and ditches and tears,

Peace

--Free

P.S.: I'm not the only one missing food from the '70s. I found a recipe here for a honey bun. I am going to have to call my almost 90-year-old auntie to see if she has a For Dummies recipe I can use! I couldn't even find one in my reliable cookbooks - 2 of them fairly ancient!

The top one is a heritage cookbook; the middle one (blue-ish) was given to me by a neighbor born and raised here in Iowa, and the bottom one is my favorite because it has so many dishes from before my mother's time.