Dave Foulk Internet Flyer

I believe a wise sage by the name of Ludlow Porch was the first to give me the advice "never love something that can't love you back". But I never took that advice. Over the past three decades,unfortunately I have been a pack rat, and I am paying the price now.

My wife and I are in the age bracket of "downsizers"- people who are giving up their larger homes for smaller houses, apartments, or condos ..or in some cases RV's. I'm not ready to retire ... yet. But I'm much closer to the exit door than the ticket window. And with continuing medical problems for the missus and all four of our knees complaining about two flights of steps, the time is right.

So we're downsizing. And we have agreed that doesn't mean cramming ten pounds of cornmeal into a five pound sack. We are moving into a place that is roughly half the size of our present home and some things will have to go. We're among the Americans who have been blessed with the ability to buy things over the years. Now, some of those things have to go.

The problem starts when we begin paring down our list of must haves. There are things I haven't seen since we moved back to Tennessee in 1992 that I have decided I need to bring along and save- just in case. And of course there's my fire engine collection, and my die cast tractors..and my books..and, well- you are probably starting to see a pattern here. I have radio program logs from years ago. Somewhere there's an autograph of Lowell Thomas.(If you have to ask who he is..use Google) I have press credentials from all of the presidential visits I have covered, and even a brass press badge from a Billy Graham Crusade.

My old high school jacket certainly can't go. Neither can my collection of old newspapers, like the one I saved when we landed on the moon. I suppose I could part with some older clothes, but so far, we are having trouble finding some people who will take them. Fewer fat people in need of shirts and pants I reckon.

I had several old 33 rpm phonograph records from people like The Hi Lo's, Frank Sinatra, Otis Redding, and Jefferson Airplane (okay, so I have a broad musical taste), and they cannot go.

My wife is not as sentimental, thank The Lord. She has very few personal collections. For instance, she didn't save toys from her childhood. I have EVERY Tonka truck I owned- some dating back to 1955 and 1956. I even persuaded my son and daughters to save some of their childhood things. Now, I am paying the price.

A psychiatrist will have a field day reading my list of "saved" things. But they shouldn't spend too much time psychoanalyzing it. My family has saved them the trouble, led by my psych. major daughter who most certainly has found some fundamental defficiency in my personality that makes me want to save things.

There is so much stuff to toss, but we couldn't even sell much of it at a yard sale. So I have devised a plan:

This is the season of giving, right? So pretty soon, all of my friends will find a cardboard box on their doorstep. It will be neatly sealed with their name on it. It will be a box of stuff from this house. I guarantee at least one item of relative worth in every box. But it will be like the Cracker Jack snacks, the item of value will be mixed in with a lot of nuts and corn..the flotsam and jetsam of a house that was too busy to toss.

Sarah is our first grandchild.  Our oldest daughter, Bethany had a very tough, and very sick pregnancy, and Sarah would not wait for full term.  She was born more than a month early on October 26th, and spent a few days connected to all kinds of wires, tubes, and adhesive patches.  Now, she is home and doing fine.  Mom is recovering not only from the c-section, but also from a serious illness that landed her in the hospital in the first place.

If you love your child, you hate to see them in peril.  And in that situation you also have your child's child to worry about, too.  Dena and I have prayed for the well being of all of our children and their spouses, and in Julie's case..boyfriend and light of her life.  But when the situation was most dire, there were no words to pray, just a simple sentence ot two because you didn't know what to pray. Only God knew how things would turn out.

I'm grateful things happened the way they did- all of the circumstances seemed to lead to a good outcome.  And I realize there are other parents who have gone home grieving. Why some, and not others? That's a question for the other side of this life, I suppose.

Holding Sarah for the first time gave me almost that same inexplicable joy that I had when I held my own children for the first time.  I think it is a combination of love at first sight, and a sense that, if we are lucky, our influence will last beyond our own life, and our children, and even their children. 

You hold hope in your arms.  You hold an individual who will be ready for the wonder and the goodness of love.  And there will be plenty of that to pass around.