In the Beginning, God Winked

Today's entry had me sitting here, wondering where or what the topic would be.  Realizing I was relying on my own knowledge being totally shocked by the traffic of this blog, I held back in my writing, and laid down for a nap.

That nap didn't last very long, for I woke with a heart beating furiously, and it said over and over over, "In the beginning, in the beginning, in the beginning."

Now is the perfect time to introduce the best new word ever: Godwink.  My spiritual mom, Diane, shared that with me, and such a tiny word has been an incredible gift to me.  That tiny term has allowed to categorize and  slightly process these many 'coinkydinks' in order to maintain my sanity.

You would think I'd be beaten blue with the amount of Godwinks I get, but that goes to show just how gentle our God is.

And so God is today nudging me in Genesis, which happens to be exactly where I'm at for Steps at the Village Church this, the very first week.  That is a Godwink my friends. This Godwink says, tell them how my pursuit of you began...

One evening in 1991 my sister, mother, and I went to the General Cinema Six to see Fried Green Tomatoes.  The fact we did this together is in and of itself a rarity, now that I think on it.  Being a lefty, I generally prefer to sit on the aisle seat and I remember being completely entranced to this movie.  Bonded to it.  Like my mother, who twirls her hair, I apparently was so moved I was twirling my beaded necklace, over and over, to the point that in my angst, it finally gave way and broke.  Not caring about the many beads that fell to the floor in a tinkly tune, I wiped my face, knowing they masked the rhythm of the falling tears I was trying to hide.

For a gal with memory loss, sometimes the details I remember just astound me.



I would call this my genesis, outside the death of my father and suicidal teens -- even my own turn in the loony bin.  This was always the prescription for a needed cry, at any time, for whatever reason. Here was born an almost sacrosanct bond I never (until recently)  understood between my sister Kim and I.  Although Kim later used the quote from Ruth in her own wedding, there was something more. Apparently, our bond with this movie is abnormal. We know every single word of this film and use them regularly in everyday conversation.

In this film I identified with my Sweet and Precious Grandmother Taylor (really, she signed all her letters that way),herself a child of Idgie and Ruth's generation.  I identified with death, feeling the death of my father.  Then again, I was also terrified at the thought of loosing my best friend.  Found myself even pondering and crying over the 'what ifs' of my mother's death that for years kept me from a social life, for fear of finding her at home, dead on the floor,  leaving me utterly alone.  I identified then, with the rebellion of the roaring 20's and the history of and anger in the deep roots of the segregated south.

Now, I haven't seen this trailer since it was on TV in 1991.  That would place me in sixth or seventh grade -- the depths of my depression, when I didn't even know if I'd make it through the night.

Watching this trailer just now, I realized I have (Catch that? Have. Present tense) more in common with Mrs. Evelyn Couch than is comfortable to admit -- and that just hit me like a Brink's armored truck (thank you Idgie).  Other interesting details of this trailer as it ties into my story are: it shows Evelyn wearing the exact pink outfit with a floral collar my mother owned, mentions the loony bin, and reveals Evelyn's own  Divine Collision, hitting that car, marking her season of growth.


The very reference of this film is a Godwink too, my friends.  Tonight I heard my friend Connor Bales teach about things we are enslaved to.  Having no clue I would reference Fried Green Tomatoes in this post, much less identify with Mrs. Evelyn Couch, I am simply in awe.  Watch it, if you haven't. We could easily reword that trailer:  She's enslaved to food.  She's enslaved to Romance.  She met a friend.  A Good friend..

About two years ago, I went to the Whistle Stop Cafe with the fella I thought I would marry.  Nestled in the middle of nowhere Georgia, Juliette to be precise, the Whistle Stop Cafe is in fact real, up and running. Eating my plate of Fried Green Tomatoes, I felt like I was in Heaven.  I believe I even commented on how I felt like I was on a pilgrimage - but keep in mind at this time, my eyes were not yet open. I knew of 'pilgrimage' only in a secular, academic, historical sense, akin to the Dark Ages. 

Whew.  Even that hurt.  Dark Ages indeed.

I sat on that porch, sipping lemonade in a rocking chair, the sound of locusts buzzing their never ending summer songs while I lazily observed the kudzu forest that seemed to engulf every aspect of this tiny podunk town, lined with quaint little shops.  And I sat there--not giving one whit it was hotter than hell-- never wanting to leave.  This coming from a girl who hibernates in the summer, and miserable when hot.  But there I was happily walking into Smokey Lonesome's Shack, sitting on Big George's grill, and walking on the even hotter railroad tracks that killed little Idgy's brother Buddy, whom she idolized. 

I was in Heaven.

But it wasn't until the death of my Grandparents that the Lord began His hot pursuit of me.  And boy did He.  Earnestly, he persued me, and He used my idols to do it.  Those idolistic details are so faint when you're blind, you can't even guard yourself against them -- practically because (eh hem) you know you're in control.

Come to find out just today, my idols were very much like Mrs. Evelyn Couch's , and the biggest one was my desire to be loved.




Meet Rhonda Ruth, my Sweet and Precious Grandmother Taylor.

This is a love story far better than the Notebook could ever be, and every time I tell it, people say just that, right after they recuperate from goosebumps.

She was a Baptist Sunday School teacher from the age of thirteen until she could no longer leave her home.

As she lay dying she said to me in her last, fully present moment, "I just want to know that you are going Home with me."

More on that later.