I spent the morning preparing study materials for my ordination exam. I recorded myself reading the materials I need to memorize, put it on my iPod, and now have study aids for my on and a half hour commute through Dirty (really, Stinky) Jersey. Bless God for technology...
I spent the afternoon taking care of business with the hubby—name changes and such. It is official...I am a Mrs.! (I think it is fun when random people at the DMV congratulate you and give words of blessing and encouragement!)
I spent the early part of the evening at the pool—we have a pool in our complex! I took in some necessary sun, and when the heat was too much, I splashed around (and swam a few laps) in the pool. I felt like I was somewhere else (as in not New Jersey). I was so relaxed that the ideas for my next sermon were speaking to me; I honored them by writing them down.
Around 6:15, when the Marco Polo game was overbearing, I packed up my things and headed home. As I walked through our complex, I heard a familiar song. My heart began to dance in my chest. There is something about the Mister Softee song that gets me every time. I must have been smiling—the biggest, widest smile ever—because the driver of the truck waved at me when he drove past me.
In a moment, I was whisked back to my days as a child at the Lincoln Elementary School in Mount Vernon, New York. I could feel the anticipation that rushed over me at 3:05 as we—my classmates and I—waited to be dismissed from school. I could feel my legs ready to take off towards the door, through the playground, straight to the truck. I could see Tahiyah and Neville and David and Ingrid standing at the truck waving dollars, clamoring to be next in line. I could taste the vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles and I could see a pinkish bluish liquid dripping down my arm when I couldn't eat the ice-cream as fast as it was melting. And I didn't have to imagine it, I heard the sound...
In a moment, I was also reminded of our last Spencer Family Reunion in 2007. It was the day when the Mister Softee Truck stopped by our family reunion and we feasted on ice-cream. It was the day when my Uncle Freddie—the other Mister Softee—had a moment of nostalgia and joy that resulted in the "ugly cry" that my mother's side of the family is known for. It was also our last family gathering where everyone was together—including Aunt Joan.
Tomorrow we will celebrate Aunt Joan's Homegoing. She has been the matriarch of our family since my grandmother passed in 1987. She was also a fighter. Whereas pancreatic cancer takes many people down in a matter of months, she survived for years without ever taking radiation or chemo. While I wouldn't advise that route for others, she certainly did it her way. Truth be told, she did it her way until the end. In mid-June she checked herself into hospice care. She had made peace with her Savior, peace with her life, and peace with her death.
So, here is to beautiful endings and new beginnings...
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