Enjoying some glimpses of the past

Every now and then I mention how I equate the past to New York City. It's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.

Too many people who live in the past miss out on the present. But I do feel inordinately blessed when snatches of my past jump up at me out of nowhere.

Some people from my past who came and went from my life continue to warm my heart. And sometimes, remembering someone from the past renews the wisdom they shared with me.

This week, as I tried to give words of comfort to a woman who has to leave the life she loves here in Florida, I recalled the time decades ago when I had to do the same thing.

At the time, I had the best job in the world with the best people in the world, as far as I was concerned. Best yet, it was in my hometown of Shamokin, Pennsylvania.

Back then, I would occasionally hear someone say they were looking forward to getting away from the coal regions.

I, on the other hand, loved everything about living there, especially the good people who shared my world. Back then, it was a town where we all took care of each other.

I love the comfort of knowing every man, woman and child as well as the names of their pets. I'm definitely the type who thrives on small-town living. I was devastated when circumstances dictated that we had to leave our hometown to accommodate my husband's new job. I put on a smiling face for my friends and family, but to tell the truth, I felt as if my heart was being ripped out.

Coincidentally, a priest I had grown to admire also learned he was being sent to a new area. He was the one who started our local Catholic high school and gave his blood, sweat and tears to turn it into an extraordinary school where the faculty cared deeply about students.

It didn't seem right that the school would have to continue without him.

When I got a chance to spend a few private minutes with him before we both had to move, I asked him how he could stand to be pulled away from the place he loved.

I'll never forget what he told me.

"Child, we are sometimes sent to a peaceful place of rest to enjoy for a while before we are sent to another place where we are meant to be," he said.

He told me Shamokin was my place of rest. What would come next was where I was meant to be.

As I settled into my new area with the perspective I gained from that priest, I kept telling myself this is where I am meant to be. After I let go of the past, I found a rewarding present in my new town.

I never saw that beloved priest again and have no idea how he thrived in his new assignment. But I do know the wisdom he gave me when I needed it has stayed with me.

Often, thoughts of people from my past fill me with love and gratitude. Chances are I may never see them again. But I never forget the impact they had on my life.

I got up today thinking about the woman I call "my Mary." I think about her a lot and wish I could see her again.

She was a friend, neighbor, helper, a health care angel and a source of strength during the difficult years of my late husband's illness.

Despite difficulties we both had, Mary bought a sense of joy whenever she came to our house. My husband and I were both lifted up by that remarkable woman.

One of the things I regret about moving to Florida is that extraordinary people like Mary became part of my past instead of my present.

But those we hold dear are never forgotten. They continue to warm our thoughts and inspire our present by all that they mean to us.

Lately, I like thinking about the past when I can recall times when I still had my parents.

As I get older, I see my parents in a brighter light than I did years ago. I call to mind their silent sacrifices for me and their resiliency.

When I think of specific examples of that resiliency, it helps me take stock of all I have been given and all the love that's been poured into me.

There's a downside to thinking about my parents, of course, because it makes me miss them all the more.

My husband and I often tell each other stories about our life growing up. We recall little pleasures we had with our parents.

David tells me how much he loved going to the diner with his dad, just the two of them enjoying a simple slice of life together.

I tell him about how my mother was always perfectly groomed, even though all she was doing was cleaning and cooking her fabulous meals.

When I recall those memories from the past, I am thankful even more for the blessings I've had in my life.

No, I don't want to live in the past. But it's fun visiting every now and then.

Contact Pattie Mihalik at newsgirl@comcast.net.