Sweet tea and Jesus

I’ve heard it said many times that Chick Fil A is The Lord’s Chicken. I’ve also heard it called Jesus Chicken. I call it lunch daily with a little sweet tea from heaven. I don’t understand how anyone could ever drink plain tea. That is no sugar. NONE! I would liken it to almost being un American. At the least, I would call you a yankee. I was raised on sweet tea and sunshine. I learned as an adult and with the advent of Chick Fil A my mom didn’t make sweet tea. Oh, it had sugar in it but it was pretty close to unsweetened in comparison to The Chick. When I had my surgery I was a Coca Colaholic. I swore I would never drink another one and I haven’t. But addiction is a different battle all in and of itself. The thing with any addiction is control. It controls you or you control it. Right now, scout’s honor, I am addddddicted! I know where, when, and how, to get it in any city in which I travel.  I’m not sure I would like to travel outside a Truett Cathy dream state. I am on a Southwest flight to another state and I can assure you I thanked the Lord when I saw there was a chick fil a next to my gate. Yes, there IS sweet tea in my yeti as it sits on the pull down tray.

I’ve heard many of my friends talk about the TSA agents. I’ve read many horror stories. I’ve never had a problem with any of them in any state. Some may be a little friendlier than others but catch me on some days on my job and I may give the same impression. I’ve always respected the fact they had a job to do.

With the introduction of scanners and xray roundabouts, I know my underwire will get me. If it doesn’t the hearing aids do. Add to that a brand new hip and I might as well welcome a pat down. After all, it is the most action I’ve seen in years! I always am kind and politely tell the agent I am hearing impaired as I hand them my ID and boarding pass. I’ve had the great fortune to have always had them lower their mask and tell me to have a safe flight. On to the screening and I remove everything (except the bra) into the correct bin in the correct manner. Sometimes I will chat it up with the TSA folks if they aren’t terribly busy and seem to be having a good day. I stepped over today to the scanner and informed the lady I was hearing impaired and had a right hip that would make her scanner go off. I knew it was bad from the first eye contact. She couldn’t have cared less what I told her she was busy herding cattle. She was not a happy camper and it was written all over her face. I evidently made the alarm bells whistle as I went through (I didn’t hear them, I’m hearing impaired remember?) She pointed for me to go back through and again i reminded her of my impairment and I didn’t understand what she said. She motioned for me to go through the scanner again and as she rolled her eyes the alarm must have sounded. I would be remiss if I didn’t let the readers be aware I am USED to this! Eye rolling is VERY loud to someone who doesn’t hear well but that is a blog for another day. She motioned again to back out of the scanner and stand to the side while others went through. Several times she stopped others and made them walk back through but only I stood outside the scanner. She FINALLY called for someone to come pat me down…….four or five different times. All the while my pocketbook and personal belongings are on the conveyor belt now out of my sight. I asked her if my pocketbook would be ok. her response a terse “it should be”. WHAT!? SHOULD BE???? I was hot both literally and physically. I have on a big shirt and started fanning. She then yelled at me to stop exposing myself and that she would have to ask me to stay clothed. Lol Didn’t know fanning was against the law and trust me I wouldn’t expose myself to my worst enemy. It scares even me! Again, I remind her I could not see my pocketbook and needed to know that it would be fine. She in no uncertain terms told me to hush and not worry about it. She continued to call someone to come and pat me down. I have since decided her co workers didn’t want to have anything to do with her either as no one would come. It was not that busy and the flow was going well. Alas! A good 7-8 minutes later someone shows. She is pleasant and pats me down. I move to get my belongings but my carryon is behind the glass. They have been waiting on me to search it! At least this lady was even keel, she was doing her job, no conversation and a thank you at the end. WHEW! I have to say that was a welcomed surprise. I hated that I had to rearrange my bag and pack it all back in but after the first hateful lady anything was a step in the right direction. 

Of course now that I get through security, I have to board the train to the gates. As always, it is an on off situation but man I had to pee. (Doesn’t everybody at this point?) I’m pretty sure I heard all the over 50 ladies shout “AMEN”! Luckily for me there is one right there and in and out I pop. I turn left heading down to gate 21 only to find after 8-9 gates the numbers are going the wrong direction for my travel. I have to laugh as I’ve done this MANY times. I turn around and head the correct direction, which would have been RIGHT out of the restroom. Lo and behold, ahead in the distance there it is! The Lord’s chicken!!!

To say I have never been so happy to see a chick fil a would be a lie. There are many times I have been excited to see one. But when I spied this one I did say “thank you Lord!!” Nothing could have been a more splendid sight. I have tea (and nuggets)in hand and my gate is less than ten steps away. FLIGHT DELAY! Ah who really cares at this point? Not me.

I’m sure the choir in my head was singing the Hallelujah chorus. I sat in silence sipping sweet tea and enjoying some really hot albeit expensive nuggets. I knew at this point life was good and the feeling getting better. 

I make it on to the aircraft to find not only a window seat but an exit row window seat! Something about that Jesus chicken and sweet tea has turned my life around. I’m heading to see my Bubba, my kids and the Mamaw and Gramps. We will be at the happiest place on earth and at this point NOTHING can stand in my way. 

When someone tries to ruin my experience I always remember my addiction includes sweet tea and food. There is always a Chick fil a in sight. If not, you are in a non blessed place and you need to find higher ground.

Beans And Cornbread

 I’m of the understanding, I am not the only one that hates this time change. Many of my friends are talking about going to bed early not realizing the time. It has me pondering a few things with the dark thirty season.

I don’t think there was ever a time mama didn’t cook. When I was little, she cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner. As I grew and the older siblings started moving out the cooking started slowing down because mom had decided it was time to go to nursing school. 

I say it slowed but it in reality morphed. It moved to grab something for breakfast, lunch was during school hours and she cooked supper. Anyone that ever sat at my parents table could be assured of a few things. 1. The blessing would be said 2. Daddy would say “if you don’t see it, don’t ask for it, cause we ain’t got it” 3. There was always plenty no matter who walked in the door.  

My best and most comforting memory of supper at home is one of this time of year. We ate it often but something about the memory of time change and supper when it was dark. Without fail after school whether it was playing with Annie, Lisa or Brian or band practice, play practice or show group practice you could bet I was out til suppertime. It would be those evenings where as the sun crept down it would get cooler and cooler. Our cheeks would be rosy red from the hard play and cool air. We could hear our names being called and knew the time, although none of us wore a watch. 

As I would bust through the door looking forward to what was to come an aroma met me there that would surely make the fullest man want more. The aroma of pinto beans and cornbread. 

Ahhhhh, the sheer mention of them makes my heart smile and the smell tingle my memories. The steamy air would seem like a sauna after such outside fun. I knew there would be meatloaf, mac and cheese, fried or mashed potatoes and probably something green that I wouldn’t touch. After the hands were washed and the drink poured, grace said, heaven awaited. That first piece of cornbread was so hot to touch it was the perfect time to put some butter on it. As it quickly melted the other dishes were passed around the table making sure that daddy had everything there was to offer. It was then the cornbread was crumbled onto the plate. The beans had just had enough time to stop their boil. They were then heaped via a ladle onto the awaiting cornbread with just the right amount of juice. If your mouth isn’t watering at the thought of this I’m not sure we are friends. This particular meal has and will always be my absolute favorite meal hands down. Comfort food on a cool night. Dark thirty and we are gathered around the table. I’m sure we are talking about the latest death in Whitfield county or maybe what mischievousness I had managed to get myself in to. The point being there was never silence at the Patterson table. This hour was more important in that particular moment than any other throughout the day.

This was the time of day where thoughts were shared, punishments rendered, money discussed and girl/boyfriends were entertained. I even told my daddy my first dirty joke at the supper table! Mom made sure we had what we wanted/needed before she even sat down. Sixty minutes of the day. Unlike any other sixty minutes in the last 1440 minutes we were here as a family. Wasn’t always a fun 60 minutes but as a parent myself I can see the importance and the bonds that were formed that last a lifetime at that table. 

Time change… one simple hour. The scope of one hour can make or break a child. That hour could be spent in the floor playing with their grandparent. That hour can be spent reading about your favorite characters latest escapades. The hour of darkness can be used to light candles and tell ghost stories. The quicker the sun goes down the sooner you can light the campfire and enjoy the stars. Camping is another family story for another time. 

What can you do on an hour to enhance your life and the ones around you? In sixty seconds you could sit at the bedside of your parent as they tell all kinds of tales. One hour of space and time can alter your world and the world of others in unimaginable ways. Spending one hour with family is never wasted. One hour with pintos and cornbread can serve as a comforting memory for this aging woman.