What’s Up with Rebecca Revels

One might wonder what could be special about a narrow, dead end dirt road somewhere in a rural area of Gaston County.  From the main road it appears to be a driveway, easily and often missed. What’s special about this road? It is the gifts that it shares daily.

Growing up on this road was a wonderful adventure. Secluded from city ways, we were able to enjoy the simple things of life without the pressures of expected conformity. As a youth I found adventures of the imaginary kind. Disappearing into the woods I became a spy, a guide, a settler looking for a new home. I also found escape from the angst of the teen years.  When I came back from living out of state, I was glad to be home, but I didn’t visit the woods like I once did. The trails that spider web their way through the many acres were left solely to the animals and my brother the hunter. Then, just a few weeks after turning fifty, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I headed for the place I had found sanctuary so many times before. The trails that spider web their way through the woods.

In my walks then, and still now as I walk, I was always gifted with something new along the way. I walk with an expectation and with eyes open to anything new or different. It isn’t unusual to spook up a deer. One walk I spooked a fawn not much taller than one of my dogs. It ran off through the woods in the direction I was walking. It wasn’t long before I was startled by this same fawn fighting to become untangled in the branches that it had sought to hide in. Gaining its freedom it disappeared into the woods once more. I was left hoping that its mom could find it since it had ran so far.

More recently I was startled and pleased to find a visitor at my dad’s big fishing puddle. Hiding behind the footbridge it immediately took to the air when I approached. Since I hadn’t been expecting it I froze in my tracks and searched the tree it had flown into in hopes of catching a glimpse of the bird I had frightened. A blue-green heron sat on the tree limb watching me watch it. It didn’t appear to be frightened any longer, merely annoyed at my presence. A beautiful bird it sat where it was until the moment when I crossed the bridge in the direction of where it sat. The moment I got too close it spread its wings and neck and flew across the pond and into the woods.

Watching it disappear I turned and resumed my walk. I smiled as I thought of what appeared to be a young bird dealing with unexpected surprises. The bird handled it by removing itself from what it felt to be a threatening situation. I handle my surprises by running to the One that I know can take care of each and every one of them. My Lord says ‘come to me’ and I do, and I thank Him for every gift He places before me, here on this narrow, dead-end dirt road somewhere in rural Gaston County.

What’s Up with Rebecca Revels

It’s been an iffy day weather wise. This morning started with rain and played ‘will  I or won’t I’ rain off and on all day. So I knew, especially after taking a gander at the sky, that I was taking a risk. It was a risk I was willing to take to spend some time in the quiet of the woods. I even called my dad and told him that I was walking and would feed his fish so go ahead and get the food for them ready. By the time I got my shoes back on and made my way next door to my folk’s place, dad had the bucket ready and waiting on the well. Bucket of fish food in one hand, camera around my neck and walking stick in the other hand I started down the hill.

At the bottom of the hill is dad’s big fishing puddle. For a while it was being visited by a pair of Canadian geese, but they didn’t care for my frequent visits and soon moved on to, I would imagine, a more private location. Now there is another visitor to the puddle. While I’m not positive, it appears to be a young blue-green heron; smaller in size than its more recognizable namesake but more colorful in plumage. I have been trying to get a photograph of it but all I’ve managed so far are either distance shots or shots somewhat to completely out of focus. The bird is quick. I wasn’t disappointed today; it was there. I was disappointed in that I still cannot say I have a good photograph of this bird. I made my way around the puddle feeding the fish and once the bucket was empty started on the rest of my walk.

My next landmark to cross is my brother’s deer field. Deer tracks crisscross the field proving it to be a popular spot. Recently while crossing this field, I nearly walked up on a ground hog. Caught off guard, I simply stopped and watched as it took its time disappearing into the high grass. It was then I remembered the camera around my neck. I did manage to get a shot of a brown blob mingled in with the green stalks. I’m being much more careful now when I cross that particular area. I’ve been told that ground hogs have a particularly nasty disposition. I may be paparazzi to the bees, and getting stung is one thing, but getting mauled by an angry groundhog is another thing entirely and something I wish to avoid.

Climbing the hill I push my way through the young saplings that are beginning to block my path. I watch for anything that may be entangled in the branches. Snakes after tree frogs or that saddleback caterpillar that packs a brutal sting immediately come to mind. There are also  spiders. At the top of the hill I hang a right and start toward the power line. Here, I’m walking parallel to the Dirt Road and can actually see the vehicles that pass by while remaining discretely camouflaged.

The power line is a garden of magic in its own right. Between the evergreens, the wildflowers, honeysuckle vines and critters that hang out there,  also growing thick and abundant are blackberries, and they are beginning to ripen.

On this walk  I was finding some of the bigger berries that were ripe when I felt the first cool drop. I had run out of time. With a handful of berries rolling around in the bucket I headed toward home. Under the trees I could smile and listen as the rain fell. Unfortunately, I ran out of trees. I hadn’t gotten far before I was soaked. By the time I reached my parent’s place mom was standing on the porch calling out offering me a place to wait out the storm or her umbrella. I declined both, I was already wet. When I got to the house Rambo, my border collie mix (with chicken I believe) was pacing in front of the gate waiting for me. He had already panicked once early today and tried to run from a storm.  By the time I put my key in the door water was running down my face and dripping constantly from my hair. Rambo still got in before I did. I had been shielding my camera as best that I could, but it too was wet. I’ll remember from now on to carry that plastic bag that I knew I should have during summer shower season to protect the camera from not so nice weather.

Now dry for the most part, dinner in the oven and cup of coffee in hand I can sit here safely inside and listen to the rain falling outside. Occasionally it will thunder loudly meaning that Rambo will be remaining tucked safely in the bathroom  for a while longer. But that’s okay. We all need to be able to recognize where our shelter is from the storms, no matter their type or ferocity.

What’s Up with Revelling In It

By Rebecca Revels

Recently, my husband was home for the weekend. Having a job that has him on a rather unpredictable schedule, it is difficult for him to get things accomplished. When he is home the days are filled with catching up. This time he had to take care of his hazmat endorsement. This meant filling out an incredibly long form online and then going to Charlotte for fingerprinting.  The online form was easy compared to what we were about to go through.

After getting directions, we got in my SUV and headed for Charlotte. My husband, being a long haul driver, does not drive when he is home if he can possibly get out of it. That meant that I was driving in Charlotte. Have I ever mentioned that I do not like driving in Charlotte? Especially with my husband co-piloting. Then, to top it off, he decided that we would use his GPS.

I had hoped that the time of his appointment would mean that the interstate wouldn’t be so crowded. That hope was in vain. You would have thought it was 6pm on Christmas Eve and there was only one store left open and it was in Charlotte. I was very relieved however when we left the interstate. I was still managing to do okay until lady GPS chimed up with “drive three tenths of a mile and turn right at…” My husband began pointing and told me to turn “right there”. “Right there” was a dead end drive. “Right there” was actually another few yards up the road. Turning in was easy; getting out was darn near impossible. Finally accomplishing my return to the roadway, I managed to make the correct turn and began my entrance into Charlotte.

I was passing a few places that I recognized from a time long ago when we made semi-regular visits to Charlotte.  Lady GPS was chirping away with directions that I found annoying. She was no help. As we approached our location she instructed me to go x amount and turn right. Again, my co-pilot husband pointed and said, “right here”. This time I asked him, “right here?” “Yes, right here.” “Right HERE??” I asked pointing at the building he was indicating. By this time he was getting frustrated with me so I turned in…to the wrong place. My, “but you said..” got me nowhere. I managed again to get out of where I wasn’t supposed to be and back on the road. Where I was supposed to be was two buildings down.

My husband got his fingerprints taken and back out in a short time. Too short. I had to drive home.

Pulling out of the building we were dismayed to find that there was no way to turn and go back the way we had came. Turning in the only direction allowed I watched from the corner of my eye as my husband programmed Lady GPS. Her annoying “drive to highlighted route” did not help. Still, once she figured out where we were supposed to be going she did help me get on the right access road, after- you guessed it- a wrong move on my part due to listening to her. I was by this time making my displeasure at being in Charlotte known. Because of this my husband decided he wasn’t going to help me any more.  Unfortunately, I am not the best at merging into traffic and because of my co-pilot’s desertion,  nearly had to return to the depths of Charlotte- which I did not want to do. When an opening miraculously appeared I was able to get onto the road I needed and head for the interstate.

All of those people that had been headed for the last open store were now headed back home. Apparently the store had closed and I was in the midst of all the return traffic. Trying to avoid drivers with an obvious death wish, big rig drivers in a hurry, and ignore my husband’s lectures on my driving and Lady GPS period I was feeling a headache coming on. I was tired of fighting traffic. I was tired of being confused and lost. I was more than ready to be at home.

When we pulled into the driveway, I was more than relieved. I watched as my husband got out of the car and took Lady GPS into the house. I leaned back against the seat of the SUV and closed my eyes. Lady GPS was an annoyance that really wasn’t a lot of help. But, the one GPS that I know without a shadow of any doubt that I can trust and depend on is God’s Perfect Salvation. It is that which has brought me peace, comfort and the ability not to toss my husband and Lady GPS out onto the interstate when they were their most frustrating.

What’s Up with Revelling In It

By Rebecca Revels

When my son James was a toddler I taught myself how to -with due respect to intensity-safely ignore my fear of thunderstorms. I had witnessed firsthand how he picked up on my emotions. If I were afraid of something, then he should be as well. If I liked it, hated it, had to have it- that was James. Once I had pretty much mastered overcoming my fear I actually found that storms-with all due respect to their intensity- weren’t so bad after all.  I was even able to handle the day lightening struck a tree near the house sounding as if a bomb had gone off. It also blew out half of the light bulbs in the house and ran in on our satellite receiver. Sparks went everywhere. But we handled it, we were safe and we were nervous, but unafraid.

As James has grown into a young man we have battled many phobias together.  By stringing Christmas lights and hiking up Crowder’s Mountain we have came a long way in gaining control over a fear of heights.  By paying attention and learning how to drive defensively with traffic I have grown better at interstate driving. James is getting better at job interviews and associating with people he encounters.

The time that I faced cancer, when the fears of my health concerns attempted to overcome my well being, I knew where to turn to. My faith has grown steadily since that time. I knew that my cancer battle was not one I was going through alone. When I realized that fact, the fear was gone.

We can do this because we have an understanding of what is going on and what we are doing. There is one member of our family that has problems; a dog we adopted from a local animal rescue by the name of Rambo. Rambo is terrified of thunder, gunshots and fireworks. Anything that is loud and sudden has him running.

When Rambo is afraid, he runs to us; banging on the storm door until we let him inside. Once in the house, he makes a straight line to the bathroom where he takes his place at the side of the tub to wait it out. He’s inside, he’s safe, you wouldn’t even know he was around he is that content.

One  recent Sunday night when we had such bad storms pass through, Rambo wasn’t the only one seeking a place to hide. I was sitting in here, happily lost in my writing when James came into the room. He turned his head slightly and asked, “Do you hear that?” At that time I didn’t hear anything but the rain, wind and radio. He went to the front door, opened it and there was the unmistakable sound of the warning sirens. We were after all under a tornado watch and  now one had been sighted. I was determined to pretend all was fine. As I sat here listening to the thunder, rain, wind and sirens all of our pets were seeking reassurance. One of the cats perched on the chair behind me and would ever so often reach out and place its paw on my shoulder. I’d look back into eyes that were questioning.

That night our pets knew where to turn to for safety and assurances. How much better off we would all be if we knew who to turn to, reach out to in times of storms in our lives. We don’t even have to bang on the door for entrance, He is already standing there holding it open, waiting on us to arrive. Ready with a place of sanctuary from any storm that may come. Ready with the assurances that we are safe and there is no need to fear.

What’s Up with Revelling In It

By Rebecca Revels

With my husband being gone as he is, I’ve had to learn how to do many things on my own. Now that James is older he is helping out with a lot of the things that I either can’t-or simply won’t-do. Our latest project was my washing machine. Two weeks ago I was sitting here at my computer as the last load of laundry washed. I could hear the machine running but the sound wasn’t so easily ignored. How quickly that was going to end.

Lost in my writing I was abruptly brought back to reality when my washer began making a horrendous noise. It sounded like a small angry man with a large metal mallet was inside my washer slugging away. Jumping from my chair I hurried to the back porch and stopped the washer. Backing away I stood looking at it as if it were going to start speaking and explain what was wrong. When that didn’t happen I called my brother. I must say up front that I am one of those people blessed with a wonderful family. Unfortunately for me,  my brother is a tractor-trailer technician not a washing machine technician. Going back to the washer, I managed to get the water to drain out and moved the towels to the dryer.  I was still left wondering what was wrong with this much needed appliance.

It was suggested that the load had been off balance and that was what I heard. I’ve heard that washer off balance before, the tap tap tapping from that is nothing like the clanging that I was hearing.  Still, I thought I would give their suggestion a try. Filling the washer for a small load I waited. Everything seemed fine so I walked away. The minute it was full and began to agitate it began again. That horrific clanging from the angry man in the washer. Quickly adjusting it to drain I  stepped back and crossed my arms. This wasn’t good.

By accident I noticed that the tub seemed to move a bit too freely. Showing it to James he talked the neighbor into coming up and helping him to look at it. After careful examination they discovered that to get to the inner workings of the machine, they had to practically take it apart. Working carefully they dismantled my washer  to the point I wondered if they could get it back together. They finally discovered that the washer belt was worn out, and nearly broken in half. Getting the numbers off the belt they pondered on putting the washer back together. I told them that there didn’t seem to be any purpose in doing that when they would have to just take it apart again once I got the belt.  Leaving it as it was I began my search for a belt. I discovered that a local home and garden center carries dryer belts but not washer belts. A local hardware store that was open on Saturday did not carry the brand I needed but the one two blocks up did- but they were closed.

Before I could get the belt my husband came in. He could not understand why they had taken the washer apart as they had. Setting to work he put the washer back together. I left him alone, listening to his comments about people not knowing what they were doing.  Getting the washer back together he then finds that, no, he can’t take the back off and taking it apart was the only way to get to the belt. Glad that I was in another room and could laugh without getting caught I listened as they took my washer back apart. Finally getting the belt off my husband went to find a replacement. Coming back inside from wherever he found the belt he carried I remained hidden while they put it on the washer. Thinking he had it working they put the washer back together and started to fill the machine for a small load. Once the washer was full it should have began to agitate, but didn’t. After draining the water they once again took the machine apart, removed that belt and were back out the door to his hidden belt supply. Back again he was desperate enough to attempt to put a well worn belt on, thankfully it was too short.

It was mom to the rescue as she allowed me to do something she is adamantly against, wash a load of clothes on Sunday. Once that was done my husband and I headed for our local handy dandy super center so he could get a few groceries to put in his truck. As he got his groceries I went off to check out what type belts they had. Everything was miles too long.

Monday afternoon as soon as I got off from work I quickly went to the hardware store that had been closed on Saturday. They did have the belt I needed. As soon as I got home I gave the belt to James and he set to work. It didn’t take him long to have the belt in place. It took us longer to get the machine back together. Parts simply did not want to go back as they once were. It took some adjustments, rearranging, help and borrowed tools but we finally got everything back together as it should be..or as close as something that has been shoved, beaten and kicked can.

Two weeks without a washer can mean a Mount Everest size pile of dirty laundry. I can conquer this, one load at a time. The same way that we work on any challenge or obstacle. One small step at a time…even if we have to borrow the tools.

What’s Up with Revelling In It

By Rebecca Revels

When I was much younger, I had a dream. It was my desire to be a best selling author. I allowed life to interfere and the hope of my dream faded into the background. My son, just turned twenty-one in January, and he has a dream. James wants with all of his heart, to work in a NASCAR garage.  To help  make this dream a reality he is trying to get into the technical college over in Mooresville.

We recently rode over there to tour the facility. I was very impressed with the set up, the curriculum and especially the people. I liked what I heard from everyone that we talked with. James was running on divided attention, trying to listen while examining everything. After receiving permission he was picking up this and looking at that, you could see the ‘want to’ in his eyes. It wasn’t long before he had oily hands and a big smile.  We spent approximately an hour touring the place and talking with the  person who handled the initial paper work.  I walked out of that building with a bumper sticker and a fistful of papers. James walked out with a new cap and a deeper desire to see this dream become reality.

James has been back over there several times, putting a lot of miles on my SUV going back and forth, so he can spend time  filling out forms for everything under the sun and then some with his financial aid advisor. He’s called me often needing answers to questions found on the many forms. Some I could understand the asking, some I couldn’t, but I answered them all to the best of my ability.

Its funny and at the same time exciting to watchhim. I don’t know that I have ever seen him want anything this bad. He inherited his love of NASCAR from his grandfather.  If a race is on, the “do not disturb” sign is out.  To walk in and attempt to ask, instruct or share anything earns you one of two things, an irritated glare, or being totally ignored.  He has gone every chance he could over to Charlotte to see the race first hand.  Every time he has come back even more driven (sorry-but pun intended).  He realizes his limitations in that he knows he’s probably not quick enough to work on the pit crew.  What he knows is that he has  a love of figuring out how something works and then creating something new around that understanding.  Watching him I believe that instead of blood, its thirty weight motor oil that flows through his veins and his heart races (sorry again) with the horse power of a racing engine.  While some people prefer classical music, some rock and roll and others rap, the music James prefers is the heavy metal sound of those cars tearing around a track.  He has developed a one track mind, and I think its left turn blinker is stuck on.

I watched James as we toured the building and grounds that day. I’ve watched and listened to him every day since then. I have never, seen him want anything this badly. He is taking the initiative in this, making phone calls, asking for recommendation forms to be filled out for financial aid. He has gone and purchased the one meter he was told he would need, and when he found out he would need to be in good physical shape to work for NASCAR he purchased some inexpensive exercise equipment to begin getting into  shape.

James is twenty-one, I am fifty-two years. Watching James as he works to take a dream and make something of it, has helped to refuel my own dreams. I sincerely hope that James succeeds in this. We all need that dream. We all need to have that one thing that we want enough that we will work hard to see it to fruition. It can be anything from that special job to being an Olympic gold medal winner. A best selling author to a life saving surgeon. A life changing teacher, to a soul saving evangelist to a parent or caregiver  who can make a difference in a child’s life. The list is endless. It is my belief, that we all have a God given gift, and it is up to us, to take that gift and make the best of it. Take it to its fullest. I’m sitting here, listening to the sound of a race coming from the direction of James’s room, knowing in my heart, that the green flag has dropped and James has begun a race, that I believe he will win. I have all faith, that he will find a way to attend this institute and he will earn that checkered flag, because he wants it that much.

What’s Up with Revelling In It

By Rebecca Revels

I’m in the process of learning how to deal with something I’m not really sure I’m ready for. A totally empty house. My husband being a long haul truck driver is gone for long stretches at a time. My son James recently went to work on the afternoon shift. Since I work first shift that gives me lots of time alone. My first thoughts were, this was going to be great.

As a writer being alone doesn’t bother me. It gives me a chance to write uninterrupted. There is only so many “Hey mom/ honey?” that a person can take before they throw their hands up and quit. Usually earning a chorus of “What’s wrong?” So yes, I was rubbing my hands together and grinning broadly as I headed for the keyboard.

I am rarely- if ever bothered by the malady known as Writer’s block. But as I sat in front of the computer my mind hesitated. It was as if it was waiting on that first interruption. Sitting there I realized that the quiet I had looked forward to, was actually too quiet. I had turned off all unnecessary lights and there was nothing in the house making noise other than the cats scratching on the aquarium stand. That wasn’t going to work. While I left the lights off I did go and turn a radio on in the kitchen just loud enough to be heard. That helped but it still wasn’t quite the same. I found myself occasionally stopping suddenly in the midst of my typing and staring off into the house. I was definitely going to have to readjust to this new level of quiet.

As I stated, I am a person that is fine being alone most of the time. I don’t know exactly how much of its the writer in me, or how much is that I realize my lack of social skills and am happier not embarrassing myself by doing something less than intelligent in public. Either way, I have found a special peace that one finds when they are by themselves, and there is an abundance of quiet. Finding the comfort in some of the various forms of silence will take some time, while others I have been content with for as long as I can recall.

Growing up here I sought the woods often when dealing with bouts of teen angst. Here I was comfortable. Here I was at home with no one to see moments of clumsiness and where I could allow my imagination free rein.

When I returned from living out of state in a less than perfect marriage it was here I came to heal. Here the peace in the silence drowned out the noise of the heartache.

When I was dealing with the cancer I would- and still do- go for long walks on my own. I never fear walking in the woods as I follow well used paths that are known to my family. I don’t as a general rule go where I might put myself in danger. What ever the time of year, I do take precautions to best insure my safety.  My walks are important to me, out there I find a special quiet time. All the thoughts and ideas of stories are left at home. All of the worries and struggles are dropped off at the head of the path. I have my camera, my walking stick and my Lord for company on this forays into the creation He gifted us with. In that silence I don’t find discomfort and loss. In that silence I can feel His presence as He walks with me, pointing out to me the gifts that He has placed along the way. I find healing and comfort out there. I don’t need a radio playing in the background, for I hear His music in the song of the birds, the winds in the leaves and the creek making its way to the river. I hear His voice encouraging me, His peace enveloping me as a blanket and I am quite content in this silence that is not really silent at all. This even holds true today when it isn’t health concerns that may be troubling me but the day to day trials.

As for my almost empty nest- since James is working as a temporary employee there are days that he doesn’t have to work. So he is here at home, standing in the doorway to this room either finding ways to annoy the cats or talking away about things like NASCAR, some known or unknown (to me) television show or any variety of things he wants to share and I’m typing away on the computer tossing in the occasional “uh huh” for good measure. All the lights in the house are on. The radios playing loudly in the kitchen and I’m finding comfort in the knowledge that quiet takes many forms and serves many purposes. We simply need to adjust, accept and enjoy the gifts that they are.

What’s Up with Revelling In It

By Rebecca Revels

I have said many times that I am not a fan of winter due to the fact that I do not like being cold. James constantly teases me while bringing in armload after armload of wood for the stove. I do not like being cold, but just let it snow. At the first flake, everything changes.

I was among the doubtful Friday when it was in the forecast. James and I drove out to Mooresville right after lunch and every time someone we spoke to asked if we thought it was going to snow the answer was no. We got back home a little after four Friday afternoon. I teasingly told James that if I were going to beat the snow, I had better head for the store. I went about my business getting ready for my weekly grocery buying trip when James came in and told me that it was snowing. Looking outside- and then at the clock- I shook my head, they actually got it right.

James and I went to the store and joined the rest of the state trying to make their way up and down the aisles. I wanted our weekly supply, as it appeared that many of the others were attempting to empty the shelves of the best junkfood items. After managing to squeeze between the throngs of people we took our place in line. Yes, it was obvious that it was snowing when you looked at every open register with lines that were four to six deep. By the time we got to my vehicle snow was covering the parking lot. Loading the groceries James took the cart back and we started home. The roads were not pretty.

We made it without incident from Franklin Square to Lowell. It was all guessing and memory as to where the lanes of travel were. We started out of Lowell and around Spencer Mountain. Just before we reached the park we saw blue lights up ahead. We turned around, but then the police cruiser passed us. Before us was a steep hill that was getting icy that had vehicles stopped at various places. Turning back we decided to try and follow our original route. There were vehicles of various makes and models stopped all along our route. A car in front of us was traveling at the speed of approximately five miles per hour. As we made our way home we passed a place were a car had gone over an embankment on one side and a truck on the other. I was becoming seriously concerned.

There have been a few times that I have been very glad to see home, and this was one of them. By the time I pulled into the driveway I was exhausted.

Then came Saturday morning. Looking out the window the view took my breath; it was beautiful. By the time I was ready to go outside I looked like one of those comic strip kids. But with camera in hand I was headed for the woods.

Truth be told, there is nothing like walking in the woods, walking in a wholly natural setting that is blanketed in snow. The only sounds are the song of the birds and the crunch of the snow underfoot. I never felt the cold as I walked. I trekked around my dad’s big fishing puddle, and across my brother’s deer field. Then I did something I rarely do, I altered my path. Instead of going my usual route, I headed for the creek. Following this small stream through the woods I watched the water cutting a path through the snow. I spotted dozens of deer tracks and the tracks of other varmints. Not wanting to risk trying to cross the swampy area where the creek spreads I made my way up a hill that is difficult under the best conditions.

Exiting the woods onto the powerline the sunlight glittered like diamonds off the snow covered trees and brush. A brilliant blue sky and bright sunlight greeted me. Taking my time I made my way back up the dirt road toward home.

Inside, with snow covered boots removed, coat hung over a chair to dry I got my cup of coffee and found my seat beside the woodstove to thaw. Even after over an hour wandering around and through the woods, having snow fall from the trees and inside my coat, I wasn’t really all that cold. I guess, that snow, just brings out the kid that resides in all of us.

What’s Up with Revelling In It

By Rebecca Revels

There is an old saying about good comes to he who waits. or even all good things are worth waiting for. As a cancer survivor I am an avid supporter of the American Cancer Society and Relay for Life. That being the case, I was recently a part of an American Cancer Society fundraiser at a local restaurant. The event had been planned for weeks. Tickets had been on sale since early December. Fliers and emails and posters were out. Then something went wrong.

We had been instructed to meet at the restaurant at six thirty that morning for instructions. I actually got up in plenty of time. I’m not exactly sure what happened to make me late leaving the house but late leaving I was. All the way to the restaurant I worked on my apology speech. Then I pulled into the parking lot and saw it lined with cars, still with people inside and others standing around a very dark restaurant. I got out of my vehicle and wandered over to speak to a couple of people. No one seemed to know what had happened. The longer we waited the more worried people were becoming. Finally the person over the event reached one of the managers. While it wasn’t the manager of this particular restaurant it was one that had the numbers needed. It wasn’t long before we got the call that the manager was on the way. Turns out there had been a lack of communication or understanding in the time.

Some of the people that had arrived early couldn’t stay. They had other things on their schedules that couldn’t be put off. Their money was refunded and they went on their way. When the manager arrived and opened the restaurant things quickly fell into place. We were given our instructions on which way to enter and leave the kitchen area. Where the supplies were, how to place our orders and to be careful.

While it took me a few minutes to find my place in the order of things eventually even I had a task to do and kept at work and out of trouble.

It may have had a rough beginning, but once we got started things smoothed out and we all hit our stride. Even our chairperson jumped in and helped with the cooking- actually- she turned out to be quite the natural cook.  For several hours it was orders and reorders. I have no idea how many pancakes and link sausage were prepared and sold, but I know that it was enough that the event was a success.  I even managed to deliver  cups of hot coffee without spilling it. I also managed to stay out of the way of those who really knew what they were doing, finding my place in the filling of syrup cups. A task that did not involve anything hot or sharp. That and helping to make sure the place was set back in order when we were finished.

There were many volunteers there for this event. Some that had been servers before, some that this was their first time. We had people selling items and people selling tickets at the door. It was a constant ebb and flow of almost every type Relay shirt known. When it was all said and done, all were tired, but all were proud of their work, and their success. We do know, that it would not have been a success without those that came out in support of us and what we were trying to do for the American Cancer Society and the fight against cancer. They are all greatly appreciated.

And to be honest, we even had a lot of fun. Thank you, everyone. Let’s do this again soon.

What’s Up with Revelling In It

By Rebecca Revels

Our dreams and goals are important. We may not always attain them when we wish to, but as long as we make efforts and strive to succeed, our chance of success is greater. It is when we give up on them, that all chance is gone.

I very rarely make resolutions for the new year, they are too easy to break and too easy to forget. However in 2001 I did just that. I resolved to go from being a writer, to being a published author. It was a dream that I had held for as long as I could remember. I remember stringing words together to form coherent stories as far back as the second grade. All through high school I was constantly writing something. I wrote poetry, short stories and was the rare one who loved writing reports. I spent one summer writing a long running story that now would be considered fan fic- then it was just writing about real life people in fantastic situations. (I am also glad that was burned long ago) All of this was fuel to my desire to become an author.

In all of 2001, no matter what I tried or who I sent manuscripts to, I did not succeed in my resolution. I did however send things to local papers. In one sense, I succeeded, but not in what I had hoped. I wanted to hold a book in my hand with my name across the bottom as author.

Here we are entering 2010. I hope this is to be the year  I  hold my dream in my hands. The thing with it now is part of what I had not thought of before. Dreams often come in parts. While I hold my books, I now must work toward the rest of that resolution and find ways to promote them.

What is the point in this? That we all have our hopes, goals and dreams. Whether to be a best selling author, a gold medal athlete, an award winning singer or actor, or any of the many other things that are out there waiting.  These dreams may start very early in life, in our latter years or somewhere in between. The important thing is that we have them, and we make strides to see them reached. Unless you are a child prodigy or a member of a famous or wealthy family, seeing that dream come to fruition may be a difficult journey. It is a journey worth taking. Even if you must struggle to see it through, in the end when you are reaping the benefits of your success, you will have grown in many ways due to those struggles. You will be stronger and more capable to continue growing and improving. When you begin to see your dreams and goals coming true before your eyes, you will grow in confidence in yourself and in the Lord that has blessed you with the talents and desires needed to follow this dream. You will also be better able to understand another’s struggles and in a place to offer assistance in some form.

One thing is true, it may take a while to hold your dreams in your hands. It took me nearly nine years. When you begin your efforts to see those hopes and goals become reality there will be many things that offer up stumbling blocks or delays.  Depending on your wishes and plans you may have to work at training yourself physically . You will have to do what  you can to learn everything you can about the goal you hope to reach. There will be those around you who will try and discourage you as there are those that will encourage.  There is also the fact that our time is not the Lord’s time. When the time is right for success, it will happen.   Don’t give up, trust and believe. If it is truly what you want, if it is truly meant to be, any struggles and battles you deal with to reach success is worth it. It makes the victory all the more sweeter.

Did I make any resolutions for this new year? Only to stand back out of the Lord’s way.  I am holding part of my dream in my hands and watching the Lord open doors and windows as He sees fit to making my dream of becoming a well know author a success. In Him, all things are possible, even seeing a resolution coming true nine years after the fact.