Put Another Log on the Fire

I finished one homework assignment, uploaded a study guide for another class, and completed a three-hour zoom review. All the while, Bob and Ella laughed in front of a fire as they programmed a phone. It doesn’t matter that Bob had to open doors and turn the AC to 60 in order to accomplish this. We were overdue for our first fire of this season. My big plan was to enjoy the rest of my evening with them and this soothing fire.

I closed the computer and picked up my phone to see if I missed any messages. I scrolled over to my Auburn account feeling pleased that I had made it through the day without screwing up my plans for a lovely evening at home.

The horror.

I discovered a kind reminder from a professor that I had not turned in an assignment that was actually due at 5:00 p.m. Making a classic college mistake, I had forgotten to double check due dates. My scream of frustration was met with Ella’s calm and Bob’s sigh.

It’s ok. We’ll just put another log on the fire. I’ll stay here until you finish.

I don’t deserve them.

I despise making stupid mistakes. I prefer to see my whole week ahead of me, knowing in advance how most events are spread out so that I can avoid stupid mistakes and make a good plan.
Plan for work and meetings.
Plan for my family.
Plan for graduate school deadlines.
Plan for sleep.
Plan for whatever need may or may not arise.

I generally make plans for Bob. There is a subtle difference in planning for something and having plans for someone. I’m very much aware of how lucky I am that he doesn’t mind too much.

I do not plan for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I never understood how people could be so busy that they forget to eat. Once my regular senses of smell and taste somewhat departed with my case of Covid, food is not as much fun. I can literally forget to eat until Bob asks. You think I’d be smaller by now but I’m not. Once I start, I keep on stress eating. I can’t stand the new smell of coffee yet still crave my caffeine. I devour chocolate but only because I already know how much I love it.

My holiday plans don’t usually involve cooking either unless it is Thanksgiving at the Duck Pond.
I’m in charge of pear salad for lunch.

A Duck Pond Thanksgiving is a finely-honed strategic series of meal planning and duck hunting that bring people together from all corners of the United States. Even though the big DP Thanksgiving was not in the cards this Covid season, we still worked THE PLAN and simply made it more appropriate for a smaller group.

Sam Powers takes his Thanksgiving seriously. The numbers and faces may change, but his plan remains the same. It’s a treasured family tradition. While most of America plans a huge supper, the Powers-Hargrove-Burns-Garrett clan prefers a duck hunt and Thanksgiving breakfast.

My sister Amy stays up all night preparing four pans of sausage and egg casseroles and cheese grits to send to the Duck Pond. I wake up at 4:00 am so I can be on time to serve hunters at our cabin. I’m in charge of yummy coffee creamers and not burning biscuits.

I stir grits while hunters skillfully maneuver boats across murky water. I put biscuits in the oven as gunshots echo off the pond. It might be one duck or a hundred. It doesn’t matter because they all shoot. They also laugh, tease, and carry on. Each hunter understands just how special this tradition is to my dad. He is beloved.

Unpredictable South Georgia weather also means we never quite know if it will be hot or cold, rainy or clear. One thing is for certain, our Duck Pond is prettiest when a layer of fog and mist settle through cypress trees just as day breaks.

I looked out over the pond a little differently this year. One of my devotions last week was about how God can intentionally place me in a fog. Thick haze will obscure my view so that I can’t watch my twisted, complicated plans intersect and overwhelm me. Fog can be disorienting, frightening, and beautiful all at once. The dense nature of fog can make it difficult for me to breathe if I keep on pushing through on my own.

Enjoying that Duck Pond fog reminded me of the power of enjoying His peaceful presence. From time to time, God wraps me in a peaceful fog so that I have to walk with Him rather than trying to see all my plans at once. When I hold His hand, I can find the path He gives me. I can find peace on my journey.

This fog doesn’t separate me from Him, but my stubborn need to follow all those plans can. When He is my focus, I remember to find joy in little moments of my imperfect world.

I didn’t burn the biscuits.
My pear salad was a success.
Time with family was priceless.
My precious cousin knew how much I was missing our traditional Thanksgiving fire. I fell asleep in my great-grandmother’s green Naugahyde recliner with AC running and doors open. I woke up from this late afternoon nap as he was putting another log on the fire.

photos below by Shirley Powers