I had the house to myself. While an introverted person and an adult, I truly enjoyed living with my parents and siblings. A lot of people didn’t understand why. They didn’t understand my joy in spending my daily life with people I loved. But I had given up on people understanding me. Jessie had made it clear that I didn’t have the skills to make myself understood.

To drown out the pain from the last year. I turned on a movie and pulled out the bag of things I had picked up at the grocery store. Everything I needed to make my own chai tea. I dropped the cinnamon sticks, cardamom pods, and black tea into the water.

I sang along to my favorite catchy song while I chopped a couple of slices of ginger. peppercorns and cloves went into the mix. As I left the mixture to heat, I prepared everything to make it into a latté. Maybe I could mix a little of that lavender syrup that my mom gave me for Christmas.

Was I a bit lavender-obsessed? Perhaps. However, I blame my mother entirely. I hated traveling as a child, but we had to for my parents’ business. They sold homeschooling curriculum. My mom found that if she scented everything at home with lavender and also did that when we traveled, I slept better. So, I became an early addict of the scent and then it moved into other aspects of life like my tea.

My phone buzzed and I looked at the text. A v formed on my forehead. Crystal? I hadn’t heard from her in a while. Her family used to be on the homeschooling circuit too and she, Jessie, and I had done a couple of things together.

Hi Pam! It’s been a long time since I’ve talked to you but I had to reach out. You're friends with Jessie Hays, right?

I swallowed and set my phone down. How was I supposed to answer that? Jessie had told me we wouldn’t have further communication and we weren’t friends so I couldn’t say that we were. Yet, I still cared about Jessie and didn’t want to say she wasn’t my friend.

I swallowed as I looked at the lavender syrup in my hand. Part of me still hoped that maybe, one day, we would be reconciled. Maybe I was stupid for thinking so. Maybe Jessie had been right when she said I wasn’t a good friend. Or maybe she was complexly wrong and she was the bad friend. Or maybe…

I shook my head. I was so tired of puzzling thoughts. I had prayed. I had done my best. I had tried to honor Jessie and God in how I acted. And I would do that now. I would tell the truth, but in a way that respected Jessie’s wishes.

Hi Crystal! It’s good to hear from you. I know Jessie.

I turned off the pot of tea and poured it into a mug using a strainer. I added a spoonful of maple syrup, milk, and a touch of lavender. Then, my phone dinged again.

I don’t know I you, but Jessie’s dad had a heart attack last week. We’ve started a fundraiser. I’m sending you the link.

On a happier note, I’ll be in town next week and was hoping we could meet up.

I stared at my phone unable to move. Jessie’s dad had a heart attack? Oh no! I blinked and moved my finger across the screen and went to open my text thread with Jessie. The absence at the top of my list brought the reality home again. She wasn’t part of my life.

Tears sprung to my eyes. I dropped into a chair and put my stinging eyes into my hands. “How long will it hurt like this, God?”

I wanted to be there for Jessie, but I knew I couldn’t be. I wanted to make things better for her but I couldn’t. That door had closed. Hadn’t it.

I switched to my phone app and hit my most frequented contact.

“Pam?”

“Hi mom,” I hated that my voice creaked.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?”

I swallowed and gathered my thoughts about me. “I just found out Jessie’s dad had a heart attack. I want to be there for her but… Mom, what if this is my fault?”

“The heart attack?”

“No,” I choked out. “That our friendship collapsed.”

My mother snorted. “Let’s go over this again. Remember her calling and telling you things were messy. Why was that?”

“Because I said something stupid that hurt her.” It was true, but I knew it wasn’t the answer my mother was looking for.

“Almost a year before. She had let it fester. She hadn’t brought it to you.”

“Why couldn’t I have been a better friend? She needed me and I let her down.” The tears spilled again. I had needed her too.

“She chose to let bitterness between you. Remember her response to your birthday gift?”

I nodded. I had bought her something she had told me she wanted but she had been disappointed that I had just bought something she had talked about instead of being original. And then I realized I had nodded to my mother who was on the phone.

“Remember how she refused apology for anything but required repeated apologies from you?”

“Yeah,” I choked out. I remembered all the hurtful words spoken to me I had tried to let go. “But I hurt her mom.”

“We all have to forgive things.”

I reached over for my mug and took a sip. I nearly spit it out.

And I laughed.

“What is it?” Mom asked.

I continued to laugh. “I don’t think making chai tea is going to become my thing. This tea is way too strong and too… I don’t know but it’s awful

My mother joined in my laughter. “Pam, I know things were hard, but you’re going to get through this and make new friends.”

I looked at my mug. I would rather drink this stuff every day than try to make new friends. Bad tea I could handle, losing another friend? I didn’t think my heart would ever recover.

Here's to finishing my goals for the month! 

 Hey friends!

You didn't think I would get back to blogging without sharing about my life, did you? Well, welcome to my personal update space. Although, starting this post has made me realize how bad I've gotten at taking photos. 

The euphoria from last week hadn’t lasted long. My list and mercy notebook looked like a juvenile idea. My list of things to do to help build back my joy seemed pointless.

I plunked a bag of chia tea into my mug and moped back to the front desk to prepare another curbside order for Mrs. Kingston. She put in an order about once a week and usually canceled them. When she did pick them up, she usually quibbled and tried to get the price reduced for stupid reasons. Why did I have to deal with her today?

You’re so self-righteous

I don’t understand how you have any friends.

It’s probably a good thing Evan left before he figured out you like him. You have a lot of growing to do.

If only covering my ears would block out the words flung at me over the months of trying to repair things with my friend.

I’m sorry, Pam. We just can’t be friends anymore.

Over and over again the words from Jessie played in my head. It felt like glass shards cutting at my heart every time. I missed her so much. I had tried so hard, even when a lot of people had told me to write her off. Even though I had said the week before I was done letting her steal joy from me, I didn’t know how to practically do that.

No mercy notebook – not a cute little list – would fill the hole my friend left or heal my heart from the damaging words.

“Pam!”

I turned and smiled. It was hard to not smile when Lacie’s nieces came to visit. Molly and Anna were growing so fast. Molly was entering her teen years with the same joy she had in childhood. Anna followed her older sister most of the time, but more frequently these days was venturing on her own.

“What are you reading?” Molly asked, coming behind the desk.

I usually had my current read behind the desk. I sighed. “I’m between books.” I hadn’t read a book in a couple of weeks. I was to depressed. I had let myself binge-watch Andy Giffith episodes. Why when you are depressed, does reading feel like such a chore?

“I can read all on my own!” Anna announced proudly. “I read More Stories from Grandmother’s Attic.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “That was one of my favorites growing up.” It was. I loved the whole series by Arleta Richardson. Too bad I outgrew those books. I stopped with my tea mug halfway to my mouth. Why had I outgrown them? A good story was a good story. Maybe the simplicity of something written for a younger audience was what I needed.

I looked at the books in my hand. The whole series of Grandmother’s Attic was in a large plastic bin underneath my bed. My eyes wandered over the titles that had enthralled me in my childhood. Suddenly, I just wanted to read all of them over again.

Why couldn’t I? I might be grown, but there was no law against me reading these books, was there? I felt a surge of giddiness like I did when finishing the candles last week of diving into these books once again. I grabbed a mug of lavender vanilla tea and put on a lavender candle. I grabbed the first book by Arlita Richardson.

The first lines of In Grandmother’s Attic pulled me back into my happy childhood and into Mable and Sarah Jane’s world; log cabins, one-room school house, and the hilarious hijinks. Oh, I had forgotten the hoopskirt story! I laughed so hard.

Before I knew it, I had devoured three of the books and had started the fourth.

“Pam?”

Mom stood in my doorway. I jerked up. “Oh, I’m sorry! I was supposed to finish cleaning the kitchen.”

Her mother smiled and entered the room. “I thought it might have been a hard day at work? Did that fellow come and yell at you again about not carrying his books?”

I snorted, thinking of the young man who had demanded we carry his books so our shelves would have more diversity. He wrote books that he called Christian, but went against God’s moral code. I don’t know why he thought coming in every few months and making threats and demands would make us want to carry his work, but it didn’t

I shook my head. “It wasn’t that. It was just…I was struggling with all the stuff from last year.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry things have been so hard. I’m hoping this year is full of good things.”

I swallowed. I wanted to believe it could. I had tried to push through my feelings and find healing, but my plans seemed silly and kiddish at the moment.

“I got something for you.” She held out a white bubble mailer.

I took it and ripped it open and found a bible study on the life of Elizabeth. The subtitle caught my eye

Dealing with Disappointment.

I looked up at my mom and tears sprung to my eyes. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “I know this year hasn’t been easy, but I want to see your joy return.”

I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to burst into tears…again. I was so tired of sadness and crying.

“Your dad and I are headed to our counseling session. You’ll do the dishes?”

I nodded. I sighed after she closed my door. She had reminded me of yet another burden on my heart, my parents. I glanced at the study and then at the ceiling. I couldn’t pray aloud, but I sent a silent prayer upward.

Jesus, please help my parents be okay. And please, help me to be able to feel joy again.

This is one of my favorite songs we sing at church. I love how it reminds me that it isn't my effort that holds me up, it is God holding me fast.

I hope this song blesses you today.

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Scott and I are fortunate to live within a couple of hours of a lot of Texas State Parks. Palmetto is among our favorites. It's far enough from Austin to feel like we've been able to leave the city far behind, but not so far that we can't make a round trip easily. 

While Scott and I like to hike year-round, shade is pretty important for much of the year due to heat. Most of the trails at Palmetto have wonderful shade and, because of the nearby river, they are cool.

Welcome to episode 2 of The Weekly Mercies of Pam Ellis! I love writing these episodes and I can't wait to share more!

Make sure you sign up for my newsletter. Tomorrow (January 7th) I'm sending out some fun free goodies inspired by this story, deals, and a giveaway!

I had made a list. I was good at making lists. I liked making lists. That and planners, which is why I ended up accidentally with two planners this year and couldn’t decide which layout I liked better.

But I’m interrupting myself. My list.

This was a list of things I wanted to do to reclaim my joy. After all, the last year had been full of dark days, darker nights, and fighting to keep my head above water, so to speak. I was ready to get back to enjoying life.

I took a deep breath and looked at my closet, then I forced myself to set aside the list on the pretty sheets of stationery. It was one thing to make a list, but it was another thing to do it. I planned to start with what I had put at the top of the list.

I dug into the deepest recesses of my closet and pulled out the candle-making kit I had been given at Christmas a year ago. I had been so excited to get this kit from Jessie. Making candles had been a dream. Lavender and vanilla scent oils had been included. These would smell amazing.

I swallowed as I pulled out each item, memories assaulting me of the day I had called my friend, Jessie, because I was going to use it. I had planned on making a candle for myself and one for her. I would ship it to her the very next day.

The phone had gone quiet.

“Pam, we need to talk. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to have this discussion…”

What had followed was an hour-long trade of the ways I had failed Jessie. I had hurt her without realizing it and she had kept it to herself. She was angry and nothing I said, none of my apologies made it any better.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I whispered the words as tears pricked my eyes. This kit had been given to me by a friend who wasn’t in my life anymore. Maybe I should give this kit to someone at church or the thrift store.

My eyes were absently roving the room and they landed on my new notebook. I reached for it and opened to the first page. I had already listed some of God’s mercies. I ran my hand over the words already printed.

Thank you for Your mercy in making me Your child

Today, I saw God’s mercy reflected in a stranger, who was so understanding when we accidentally sold a book we were supposed to be holding for them. They could have so easily been angry.

Mercy: My family loving me on my bad days.

Clearly, I hadn’t come up with a consistent way to record the mercies of God I saw around me. I looked back at the candle-making kit. An odd sensation built inside of me, one that over the months of trying to make things right for Jessie hadn’t often inspired in me.

I was angry.

I was angry a person I called a friend had pushed me out of her life because she had chosen not to forgive me. I was angry that even now, she was poisoning something I wanted and loved because her memory tainted it.

Because you are letting it.

The truth slammed into me. I often felt as if God whispered into my heart but this felt like it was shouted into my mind.

The tears stopped.

I was done. I was done letting Jessie steal from me. I would always miss her. I would always pray that somehow, some way, our friendship would be restored. Last year, she had taken hours of my time as I tried to do everything she asked of me to restore our relationship. I had prayed and spent hours before God, asking Him to help me be a better friend. And it hadn’t worked. She had left, leaving me devastated.

But I was done letting her take from me. I would make these candles and I would try to enjoy it. I would gain back my hope

I read the instructions with the kit. I went into the kitchen, passing where my parents were both busy on their computers and two of my siblings were on the couch talking about their jobs.

I went into the kitchen and started a pot of water. I poured the whole one-pound bag of wax into the metal pitcher. I followed the directions carefully. I let the wax melt, cool down just a touch and added the lavender and vanilla scent. It smelled heavenly.

I realized I hadn’t prepped the containers so I rushed to put the wicks in place and then poured the wax into the glass

I stepped back. I had made candles. I smiled and stared at the wax, slowly cooling.

A tear slid down my cheek and brushed it away. This time, it was from relief. I had used the kit and made something beautiful.  I marched into my room and added the words to the mercies journal.

Even things that start with pain can be redeemed by God’s mercy.

I took a deep breath and I felt like it was the first full breath I had taken in ages. I couldn’t wait to see what God had in store next.