When I was a child, my brother and I visited our dad's parents' home in rural Arkansas each summer.
My grandfather, Norman, ("Pappy" to his grandchildren) had serious circulation issues, for which his doctor mandated a long daily walk on the gravel roads surrounding their home.
Accordingly, Pappy wore thick, rubber-soled shoes with deep grooves for traction.
He did not complain about the walks, even when it was blazing hot out. Blazing hot with mosquitos. Pappy knew the walks were not negotiable, and he approached them with the same seriousness he once had his career as a school superintendent.
I clearly recall my grandfather returning each summer day from his walk, and asking me or my brother to check for and remove gravel lodged in the grooved soles of his shoes. Standing perfectly straight, Pappy would steady himself with a chair and lift his feet behind him, one-by-one, for "rock check."
This week, I was reminded of Pappy and his walks when returning to my own home after a stroll with my dog, Celia. I recently put down carpet in my condo so that my three-legged wonder pup can more steadily move from room to room and avoid slipping on hardwood floors.
I opted for wool carpet tiles from FLOR, and went with a mix of four tile styles. (I am now solidly in love with this stuff. I adore hardwood floors, and had no idea I could feel the same for carpet. But FLOR product is amazing.)
One of the styles I chose is a solid creme color. Soooo soothing in tone, but it does require extra awareness in terms of keeping it spiffy. Hardwood floors can take the worst of abuse - but creme-colored carpet? I feel like a grown-up!
Celia and I exited the elevator, cruised down the hallway, and to our unit's front door. For the first time, and without thinking, I lifted my feet behind me, one-by-one, and checked my soles rocks and dirt.
It was Pappy-style, exactly. I think it would have made him smile, the auto-pilot.
As I surveyed my shoes, post-walk, this afternoon, I got to thinking. What else should we leave outside the front door of our homes? If I want my casita to truly to be "sanctuary," and not just a place to crash and eat…if I'm going to get the most out of it - real restoration and a heaping helping of tranquility - well, I'm going to have to check some things at the door before entering - unhelpful thoughts, stress and the like.
It isn't about faking how you really feel - it's about changing your mind.
It's a conscious thing, sure - but not everything good is automatic.
When we opt to leave our non-positive stuff at the door, we bless those we meet on the other side - we're more fresh for them, more loving, entirely more available.
Here's to keeping the carpet of your life soft and clean for snuggling, sleeping, breathing deeply.
Thanks, Pappy, for all of those rock checks. Something "stuck," and I'm grateful. I love you.
-Melinda
