Published 5:07 pm Thursday, November 14, 2019
By Lynn Gendusa
Former Troup County resident living in Roswell
What a crazy week I just experienced. This old gal learned a slew of new lessons in seven days. I figure most of us do if we take the opportunity to listen to the teachings God hands us daily.
First, at the beginning of the week, I flew to South Florida to stay with my fourteen-year-old granddaughter while her parents were away. When a tall woman yelled, “Grandma.” at the arrival gate, I glanced behind me to see who this young lady was addressing. When she shouted the name again, this time, I realized she was talking to me.
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When Avery was born in 2005, I declared I would never allow more than six to eight weeks to pass between visits. Even though that would require long road trips or flights to Ft. Lauderdale from Atlanta, I was not going to miss the important steps of this precious child’s life. For over 13 years that vow held until June 2019.
My first response after, “Who are you?” was, “I will never allow that much time to pass by again.” And, you know what, I never will. Those significant steps to adulthood are too priceless, too sacred and too beautiful to miss. And, folks, Facetime is nice, but not the same.
If you are among the living, you are aware of pesky robocalls. I receive many recorded messages daily from every corner of this country regarding signing up for insurance.
While I was in the throws of my deep cleaning, my phone rang with a call from New York City.
I started not to answer, but at the last minute, while my hands were wet from Mr. Clean, my brain decided to hit the green button.
I was waiting for the silly recording to begin before I ended the call when I realized someone was calling my name.
It seems I wrote an article for submission to a major magazine publication several months ago.
After the caller’s introductions of which I paid no attention, I heard, “Mrs. Gendusa, we have decided to publish your story in our February edition.” It was then I came out of my Mr. Clean coma and asked brilliantly, “Wait, who is this?”
After the conversation, I hung up the phone, realizing I did not write down the editor’s name, or any pertinent information a writer should always know to do.
If they decided not to use my story after their interview with me, I should blame Mr. Clean and a bucket of bleach.
God has a way of always blessing us with life lessons to take us off our high horses.
He hands them to us in funny, bizarre ways and for that, I am immensely thankful for the crazy days and weeks of our lives.