As I was driving home from dropping Sean off at school the other day, I noticed the long line of cars wrapped around Starbucks and the crowded parking lot and I got to thinking how no one drops by for coffee anymore.  It seems that everyone goes to Starbucks instead.

Friends dropping in for coffee is all but a remnant of another era and I think that is kind of a shame that we aren’t available for spontaneous interaction anymore, that we don’t open our homes for that sort thing, that we are just too busy or that we don’t think our homes perfect enough or clean enough or whatever enough.

As I have mentioned here before, my parents live in the same house they bought in 1956.  In that time, they have served approximately 23,436 cups of coffee to neighbors, wayfarers, odd-ball relatives and the occasional long-lost friend who just dropped in.  My parent’s coffee pot has been on for 54 years.

My parent’s kitchen defies everything Southern Living tells us we need to create a warm and welcoming space for visitors.  Their home is not big and bright and you certainly will not find anything new or matching or from Pottery Barn there.  Their kitchen would make Martha Stewart cry.

The avocado green paneling is circa 1972. The pattern on the linoleum floor is all but worn off and slick from the constant ironing of the rolling chairs. (Aside:  I’ve always thought that chairs with rollers were an interesting choice for a kitchen so small you can reach anything without having to get out of your chair.  And in a 100-year-old house that has settled substantially, rolling chairs on slick linoleum means you could potentially roll out the back door if you are not paying attention.)

The refrigerator is covered in pictures of grandchildren and great grandchildren and postcards and magnets with wise sayings.  The table is always so cluttered that you have to scooch books and puzzles and prescription bottles aside just so you might carve out four square inches of real estate to set your cup down.  The trick is scooching it all en masse, like a tectonic plate, to just the correct degree, so that whatever is on the other end of the table doesn’t fall off like California into the Pacific.

The 45-year-old Melmac coffee cups don’t match, nor do any of the not-silverware.

My mother does not serve fancy or flavored coffee — it’s Folgers or whatever is on sale and if you want cream, it’s store brand Coffeemate.

Their kitchen is teeny tiny and cramped and cluttered and woefully out of date.  It’s not fancy or comfortable and would not pass the white glove test.

Nonetheless, people want to go there and hang out for a time and chat,  and they have for more than half a century.  Something there draws ‘em in and it ain’t the kitchen or the coffee.

Must be the conversation and the company.

I turned 50 a while back. Or maybe I’m going to be 50 soon. I forget which. I like to be coy. Nonetheless, I jotted down a random list of 50 things I’ve learned or observed in 50 years. These things may not be universally true, but they are true for me.

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1. If you want to be really really good at something, you will probably have to forsake something else in your life. The pursuit of excellence in any given field is not conducive to moderation or balance.  Either balance is overrated or excellence is — I’m not sure which, but you can’t really have both.

2. Being average is not a bad thing – there’s a lot of good company in the middle of the pack.

3. In most matters, done is better than perfect. But done right is better than done fast, except for housework.  Then good enough is good enough.

4. Never say “It can’t get worse.” It can get worse. It can definitely get worse.

5. It’s better to be content than rich. Riches are easier to come by than contentment.

6. You can disagree with someone and still like them.

7. You can dislike someone and still be kind to them.

8. Education is as much about enlightenment as employment. Education is never a waste.

9. You’ll never know how much your parents love you until you have your own child.

10. You’ll never know how much you hurt your parents until you have your own child.

11. No one will remember what shoes or earrings you wore to the party.

12. Getting drunk is extremely uncool.  Always has been.

13. Honor your father and mother so that it might go well with you.

14. There are three things you can do to make your life very very difficult – making babies too young and without commitment, using drugs, and getting involved in credit card debt. I only know of one first hand; the other two I managed to avoid by the grace of God.

15. Teachers and nurses are two of the few vocations where you can really make a difference in the life of another human being. The rest of us are just pushing paper.

16. Maintaining flexibility is the key to aging well. Stretch your mind and body a little each day.

17. Life is a series of peaks and valleys. Like the weather, it’s always about to change.

18. Nothing in the mall will make you happy. For very long.

19. We can’t all be leaders.

20. If you can’t be a good leader, be a good follower.

21. Make sure the person you are following is taking you where you want to go.

22. Nothing good comes of a secret.

23. On the other hand, every thought does not need to be expressed.

24. Anger poisons the soul. A grudge prisons the soul. Forgiveness purifies the soul. Forgive with haste.

25. When you win an argument, you really lose.

26. Concede whenever you can.

27. Career is a fancy name for a job.

28. No matter how bad you think you look right now, 10 years from now you will wish you looked as good.

29. The only thing that makes me smarter than when I was 20 is that now I have an awareness of how little I really know.

30. Whatever stylish thing you are wearing right now will look ridiculous in 10 years.

31. Encourage more, criticize less.

32. Use the guest towels.

33. Television is anesthesia. Watch as little as possible.

34. Life is short. But it could also be long – start saving when you are young.

35. Quality Time is a big fat modern lie when it comes to your kid. Go for Quantity Time.

36. Life is too short to spend time trying to get curly hair be straight or straight hair to be curly. Find a hairstyle that suits your hair.

37. The only way to lose weight is to eat less and move more.

38. Fashion magazines are designed to make you feel badly about yourself. Save your money.

39. Speak less, listen more.

40. Every day, no matter how cruddy, is a great day to be alive.

41. Smoking is ugly, smelly, stupid and looks silly. Don’t smoke.

42. Anyone who says they have no regrets is lying. We’ve all done and said regrettable things.

43. If you haven’t done anything regrettable, you haven’t lived. Or at least not long enough.

44. The perfect purse is worth every penny.

45. Grocery store make up is just as good as department store make up, but if paying 3x as much makes you feel better, that probably makes it worth it.

46. Say please and thank you to everyone, but especially to those who do the cruddy stuff no one else wants to do. Your kids are watching.

47. Be quick to tell your kid you are sorry when (not if) you mess up. That in and of itself is a teaching moment.

48. Don’t underestimate the power of silence to make a point.

49. Let your children (and those you love) know every day that you delight in them, that they are a source of joy in your life; that you are glad they were born.

50. The person who most needs your kindness is likely the last person to whom you want to be kind.

Sunday night, the church we attend held its annual Christmas get-together where the children sing Christmas songs and have their picture taken with Santa and Mrs. Claus.  So we donned our gay apparel and off we went.

Sean had been looking forward to going because he knew that Santa would be there and he wanted to make sure Santa knows that he wants a bow and arrow for Christmas.  He doesn’t really believe in Santa, but Sean is the kind of guy who likes to cover his bases.

At the same time, he was not looking forward to going because he knew that he, along with his Sunday school class, was expected to get up and sing in front of everybody and he would rather eat broccoli with spinach sauce than do that.

When they called Sean’s class up to the front to perform, he did not want to go.  Like a mule, he sat back on his heels and refused to go.

Had it been just me, I would have said fine, no biggie and let it go at that. It didn’t seem very important to me and I know I hate being forced into doing something that makes me uncomfortable.  And if there is one thing that makes me uncomfortable it’s the thought of being forced to sing in front of a roomful of people.  And just below that is the thought that I should have to wrestle my child to the ground and then drag him by his ankles up front to sing for a room full of people.   Then there would be two terrified, not to mention angry, people up front which would put a damper on the whole tidings of comfort and joy theme. So then, my vote was to not make it an issue.

But Antique Daddy saw it differently.  He felt it was important that Sean push through the fear and get up and sing with his group.  So he coaxed and cajoled and encouraged.  Sean looked to me for a rescue, but also high on the list of things that make me squirm is the thought of having a spousal argument in front of the entire church body, so I shrugged my shoulders to indicate to Sean that I was staying out of it and that this was between him and his daddy.

Finally AD grabbed him by the hand and drug him up front offered to go with him.  So off they went to the front hand and hand.  Sean made his way to the stage while AD stood off to one side.

As he stood among his peers, lip-syncing Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer, I thought about how parenting is this constant challenge of trying to decide when to push and when to back off.  And how often no matter which way you go it feels like you’re getting it wrong.

When he got back to his seat, I pulled him into my lap and told him I thought he did a great job and that I was really proud of how brave he was.

“I wasn’t brave!” he said in a huff, “I was really really scared!”  And then he nestled into me like a bird in a nest.

“I know,” I whispered in his ear, “Being brave means being really really scared and doing it anyway.”

The turkey is not even on the table yet and most of us are already thinking about Christmas.  For the past week or more, the retailers have been relentless in reminding us about Black Friday, the high holy day of materialism.  Getting up at dark thirty and going to a crazy crowded store and fighting over the “it” toy of the season is just not my thing. If it is yours, please have at it. Have my share. Enjoy.

Yesterday Sean and I were at the grocery store and we ran into a friend of ours.  As we chatted, she mentioned that she had all of her Christmas shopping done for her children except for the big things.  Without thinking, I said “I don’t think there will be any big things under our tree this year.”

That was a really dumb thing to say.

I didn’t really mean to say it out loud.  I probably made her feel badly for saying it, which was not my intention.  Her statement was completely innocuous and nearly everyone I know utters that sentence sooner or later during the holidays.

But the fact of the matter is, there will not be big things under our Christmas tree this year — partly out of necessity and partly out of design.

And in an odd sort of way the necessity facilitates the design.  In an odd sort of way the tremendous love we have for our boy inspires in us a desire to give him more than is good for him. In an odd sort of way having less than he wants will make him more.  In an odd sort of way,  in the dearth of excess there is abundance and in excess there is emptiness. And all of these things conflict, confuse and claw at the heart.

Earlier in the year, we read the entire Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House series with Sean.  We loved the books, but in many places they were hard to read. Laura’s life was charming and simple, but not at all easy.

There was one winter in particular where her family faced the very real possibility of either freezing or starving to death.  It seemed only a matter of which would come first.  What has been wonderful about reading the Little House stories with Sean is that he can then look around and see his nice warm house with a full pantry and see how blessed he is.  He is able to come to this conclusion on his own which is much more effective than his parents haranguing at him, “You don’t know how good you have it. You have everything. You should be grateful. Blah. Blah. Grateful. Blah.”

In one of the Little House books, it is Christmastime and it has been a typically challenging winter.  Laura and her sister are expecting nothing, certainly nothing big, but on Christmas morning they each receive a tin cup, a peppermint, an orange and a penny. And the only reason they got those things is because a neighbor risked his life to get across an icy river to bring it to them.

There was such beauty in that scene – in the selflessness of the neighbor, in the absence of expectation and entitlement, in the smallness of the gifts, in the delight of the children.  I have since wondered if we don’t deny ourselves that beauty in our quest for big things.

So this year there will be some nice things for Sean under our tree, if not big things.

But also this year, and every year after, there will be a box with a tin cup, an orange, a peppermint and a penny.

About 14 years ago, I bought a huge, down-filled, ridiculously expensive Henredon sofa. I had it made in this exquisite blood red damask fabric and it was a vision of beauty for all who laid eyes or butts upon it.

Luckily, I bought the sofa before I met AD because he would never authorize that kind of spending.  Not so lucky is that it never occurred to me that once you spend that kind of money on a sofa, you are loath to ever get rid of it. And trust me on this:  There is not a sofa on the planet that you will want to keep your entire life.

Well why not just get it recovered you might ask? And that is a reasonable question. The problem is that I could buy a brand new sofa and maybe even a few other things for what it will cost me to have it recovered.  It will require a substantial outlay of cash and outlaying of cash is just not in our immediate or foreseeable future.

So then, right now I have a formerly glorious red sofa that has turned a sad shade of pink from the sun and suffers a terminal case of thread rot. And if I may be honest, the giant expensive, formerly glorious, now ugly sofa is really getting on my nerves.  Every time I walk through my living room, it pains me to look at it.  It is the Norma Desmond of the sofa world.

Last week, as I was pulling into the neighborhood I saw a Thomasville truck in front of my neighbor’s house and two men were hauling in a houseful of brand new furniture. I slowed to gawk at the spectacle of it all.  And I may have pressed my nose against the car window and drooled just a little.  I coveted. Oh yes I did. I coveted with a vengeance.

With a heart drenched in envy, I continued around the block towards home, driving past the house of a woman whom I only knew in passing. But she doesn’t live there anymore. She lost her battle to cancer about this time last year leaving behind a husband and a ten-year-old boy.

Maybe she left behind a really nice sofa.  Or maybe hers had thread rot too. I don’t know.  But either way, it didn’t matter.  She left it all behind.

* * *

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.   Matthew 6:19~21