I love it when everyday life experiences provide surprise and insight to the big picture. Last week was chock full of those kinds of days.
It all started last Monday when I decided I would organize my life by choosing one room a day and give it a thorough cleaning. Fully energized by my re-commitment to a clean home, I decided to tackle the master bathroom first. Although I do clean it regularly, I admit the shower stall and garden tub are often left for the “next time” since they don’t seem to pose as horrible a heath concern from going a couple extra weeks as the sink and toilet. Anyway, last Monday, after I got home from the gym, I pulled out the mat and tossed it into the washer with the throw rugs, sprayed the shower with Scrubbing Bubbles and climbed in (naked of course) with my cloth to finally tackle that soap scum.
My project was going well at first. I was happy to finally be cleaning the shower, because I do love it when it’s shiny, and I was proud of myself for making the adult choice to clean instead of plopping on the couch to knit and catch up on this week’s episode of Game of Thrones. Then, I felt my feet slip and with no mat to secure my footing or anything to grab on to, I went from vertical to horizontal in a nanosecond, landing out onto the tile floor, like a baby calf being delivered and dumped onto the ground, wet and naked. My head hit the floor pretty hard and my glasses were laying next to me, bent in an awkward contortion.
I lay there for a few moments, taking in the whole scenario. I couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid. Slowly I got back onto my feet, taking inventory of my aches and pains. My head was my main concern, my brow ridge bore the brunt of impact, but remarkably there were no cuts or even visible bruise. I leaned forward over the vanity to get a better look in the mirror, checking my pupils. I did receive an impressive bruise on my thigh where it landed on the shower door track but all in all, I escaped with minimal damage. Reassuring myself I wasn’t critically wounded I got dressed and decided that sitting on the couch was a good idea after all.
As I relived my mishap and routinely checked my pupils, still worried about a potential slow bleed in my brain (had to worry about something), I realized that I had received a powerful reminder from God; that life can change in the blink of an eye. I don’t think I’ll ever clean the shower naked again.
My next revelation came on Thursday when I went in for my annual physical. I am always just a tad nervous about these exams, similar to how I feel when I take my 2000 CRV in for its annual safety inspection. We are both “used” vehicles and despite how good care we are given, you never know what will be found when the hood is popped open! My blood work was excellent as was my muscle tone, etc. The one noteworthy change in my status was that my height was measured a full inch and a half TALLER than ever before in my life! How that happens, I couldn’t tell you, the doctor theorized that perhaps my time in the gym has paid off with improved posture. Maybe I stretched myself when I was flung out of the shower. It’s a mystery. But, for whatever reason, I am taller and feeling ever so lithe at my alleged five foot three!
My last day of revelations was Sunday, Mother’s Day. Dave and I had no plans for the day until we got to church and a friend mentioned that a local artist, Fred Nichols, was holding an open house in his studio in Barboursville that afternoon. It was a glorious day, sunny and bright, but still cool and spring-like and taking a short drive to look at art seemed like the perfect ticket.
The studio tour was fascinating. Mrs. Nichols took us on a tour of the silk-screening workshop and described all the steps in creating the beautiful prints hanging in the gallery. Some go through the printing process over forty times and can take as long as a year before they are complete. I would have liked to have taken one home with us, but the prices were out of our league. After the tour, she invited us to head up the street to their gallery to view works by other artists and enjoy a cup of coffee. So we did.
It was our first time to actually drive into Barboursville. You can’t really see it from the highway because they moved the highway a few hundred yards north sometime back to bypass the railroad crossing. It’s really a shame because what remains of the original town is charming. Located at the intersection of old US Routes 33 and 20, Barboursville lies between James Madison’s Montpelier and Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello. On the grounds of the nearby Barboursville Winery are the ruins of Governor James Barbour’s mansion, which burned on Christmas Day, 1884, seventy years after its construction. All three of these homes were designed by Thomas Jefferson. With the aroma of boxwoods heavy in the air, it just plain smells historic!
The gallery was in an old building that was originally a hotel. And, although the walls were hung with the works of very talented artists, which drew Dave’s attention, my eyes were drawn to the architecture of the building, checking the woodwork, moldings and floors for continuity and looking for changes in the plaster indicating a previous window or doorway. I checked the view from the windows, to get an idea what could have been seen from them a hundred years ago or more. Buildings like that seem to have their own stories to tell and no matter what you hang on the walls, the story will speak over them, to me at least.
After our gallery tour we took a quick drive over to the ruins. At first I wondered why someone would leave the walls of a burned out home left standing. It just seemed odd and hazardous. Then I saw them. Thomas Jefferson’s hand in the design was obvious from the octagonal front hall reminiscent of Monticello as were the two-story wings at either end allowing for a grand ceiling and staircase in that room. Even though it is only a skeleton of its past grandeur, the Barbour home still had its story to tell.
We walked the full circumference of the house and took advantage of the spectacular view across the vineyards and off to the mountains. It was all so quiet and peaceful.
Then, a bird song followed by a flash of color caught my attention. And there, atop an ancient Thuja, stood a Baltimore Oriole and from the racket he was creating, there must have been a nest nearby. What a treat! I can’t even begin to remember the last time I saw an oriole.
After our tour of the ruins, Dave took me on a proper Sunday drive through the country, taking the byways to see what else we could discover along the way. It was just another adventure in our lifelong journey together and it was (and is) marvelous.
Okay, so I’ve taken a long trip through last week and you’ve got to be wondering just what my great epiphany was from these three completely different experience. To be honest, I didn’t really know myself until a few moments ago, I just knew there had to be something.
The way I see it, it all boils down to this. Life can change in the blink of an eye (or fall to the floor), and even if you don’t find yourself flat on your face, something else you discover about yourself, no matter how insignificant, can change how you see yourself. Lastly, it’s important to have a companion to share adventures with. Even if you don’t enjoy the same things, enjoying different things in the same place can be just as good.
It was a good week and I’m actually sort of happy to catch sight of my bruise now and then because it reminds me of just how good a week it was, despite its awkward beginning.