Author: Mollie T. Cox

Decisions

Learning to Wait

October 19th, 2024
Mollie T. Cox

Within days of waiting quietly for hours (see here)—and appreciating the experience—I had a chance to practice what I learned about waiting. However, this time, I was in a noisy Walmart instead of a solemn courthouse. This time, I had a to-do list rather than a cleared day. This time, the result of my wait would update a photo album, not help change lives.

An 8×10 photo stapled to its receipt should have been a quick fix except the associate helping me reorder went on an extended break, and then, the printer went into a scheduled 30-minute “cleaning session.”

“Let’s enjoy the wait,” I told my husband who was stuck with me. “Let’s be happy.”

We did, and we were. (He usually is.) We compared the TV screens on display. We observed an associate using his eyeglasses as a Bluetooth device. (Who knew?) We listened to a mother—while uploading photos—preach a fifty-minute sermon to her children. I peeked at a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Can I just tell myself to enjoy waiting? Is it that easy? Can I learn to find the events and people surrounding me interesting, perhaps even entertaining? I guess I’ll see.

Basics

The Peace of Waiting

October 12th, 2024
Mollie T. Cox

Last month, I spent over four hours in a courthouse with little to do except wait. “Draining,” texted a friend when I let her know the experience was over. “Not too bad,” I replied.

The more I thought about waiting to testify at a hearing, the more I decided the experience was better than “Not bad.” In fact, it was quite nice. My resting heart rate for the day was 50, the lowest of the week.

So, what “little” did I do? Small talk with my husband. Additional small talk with my friend’s father, whom I had just met. Walk down the long, long hall a couple of times to get water but really to peek at an opposing witness. Eat breaded chicken pieces from the courthouse cafeteria. Sit quietly at a table when not performing those small endeavors.

Sitting still in a quiet place is underrated. Solemness and reverence permeated both the place and the few people walking by. So restful.

I am wondering how to replicate—in my daily life—the experience of sitting quietly, reverently, for a peaceful break.

Be still, and know that I am God. Psalm 46:10

Memories

I Want to Know I Can Go Back

October 5th, 2024
Mollie T. Cox

I usually leave a place making plans to return. (Just ask my husband.) Boston, Halifax, Ipanema, New York City, Niagara Falls, the Rock of Gibraltar as well as lesser-known Chimney Rock, Black Mountain, and Bryson City—especially Bryson City.

The last three cities were not only the most realistic for another visit, but also the most obscure until Hurricane Helene’s devastation. Black Mountain made The Today Show. The Mayor of Asheville began to weep during her interview as she spoke of the damage to the town where she lived.

On Chimney Rock lookout with Lake Lure below (2014)

As I write this, Lake Lure is a field of debris.

I texted a friend “Thankfully, Bryson City only sustained significant damage from flooding.” Before Helene, I would not have considered “significant damage from flooding” good news.

I may never go back to the places I listed. I no longer carry the hope that they are waiting for me—as happy and well as I left them. Two friends emailed that they would pray for me as I grieved the loss.

Have you lost a place?

Decisions, Relationships

It’s The Little Things That Matter #2

September 28th, 2024
Mollie T. Cox

Last week, I wrote about the lasting impact of a snapshot. (See here.) It was the result of three small decisions I made—taking, printing, and sending. However, someone else’s decisions made the moment possible.

A and L told me they would not be at the evening church service because A did not drive at night. I liked these women, and they expressed disappointment at missing the installation service. Therefore, I was sad about their situation, and then, delightfully surprised to see them appear.

What made it possible for A and L to be at church after dark? An elder in the church called and did more than offer a ride. He chose words that were inclusive, welcoming. He said, “My wife and I will pick you up at 6:30.” He implied that their presence was a given and not an imposition.

Why don’t we do more of the little things? Because, although actions may seem “little,” they are time consuming. Who wants to waste valuable time on something that, on the surface, seems “little?”

Along the way, I am learning that the “little things” are remembered the most.

Have “little things” impacted your life?

Memories, Relationships

It’s the Little Things That Matter #1

September 21st, 2024
Mollie T. Cox

I feel like crying as I write this. Truthfully, I’m tearing up—over a photo. Or more accurately, what that photo meant to someone.

In 2019, I snapped a photo of two women standing with my son. It was both spur of the moment and posed. I printed two copies and mailed one to each woman. Last week, one of the women passed at the age of 102. That photo was found in her Bible, and her daughter said the photo was of the few things she took with her when she moved to receive fulltime care.

There was much to love about that photo. L was not only standing with her pastor, but also with the friend who drove her to church each week. Part of the church building, which she could no longer enter once she became frailer, was visible. It was also a momentous occasion. It was the day that my son, who had been on staff for almost two years, was officially installed as the church’s pastor.

I almost didn’t take the photo. I wondered if I should mail it. However, those little actions mattered more than I knew, until now.