Reflections From The Kitchen Sink on Pickle Juice

By Melinda Campbell

3:13 a.m.

I jolted awake for the fourth time in four hours with leg cramps.

I had already tried the ballerina stretches. I’d already jumped out of bed and moved around like someone trying to get a rabid squirrel out her pajama pants leg.

Nothing.

Then it hit me—pickle juice.

I scurried to the kitchen and frantically searched for the jar of pickles I thought I saw on grocery list day. The pickles were taunting me, I thought. Where could they have gone?

Just as I was about to gripe about one of my children obviously eating the last of the pickles and throwing the jar away, voila! It appeared.

This was no time for the old Arthur-itis to rear his ugly head, but why not add some more fun to this party? Yes, I finally got the jar open, but I thought some not nice things in the process. (I don’t like admitting when I have one of those moments. We are almost like family already though, so why not?!)

I didn’t waste time hunting a fork to stab and grab. I just plunged my thumb and pointer finger in the jar. After barely tapping the side of the jar’s mouth with the junior dill, I swallowed it in two bites dripping juice on the floor during the frenzy. I was mid repeating the process when I heard the words “pickle juice” again in my head. This time though the voice was identifiable. I immediately took the jar in my stiffened hand and turned it up like a glass of water on a hot day in the garden.

With just two small swallows, thank goodness, the pain almost instantly subsided.

The key element in this story is that this pickle advice was from a relatively new person in my life. The words that had run through my head had her voice attached. Interestingly enough, that wasn’t the only advice she’d given me lately, and she’d been spot-on every time. In less than a year, she has poured into me and helped guide me to a new season in life. That kind of thing happens.

In one of my leadership classes way back when I was a doctoral student, the teacher told us oftentimes some real change has to be come in from the fringes. It requires objectivity that insiders don’t have the capability to have. The last year or so, that has been my life’s story. My core is the same; however, there have been a few outside observers who have made suggestions that resulted in a major shift in Melinda’s mindset and nudged me in positive direction. Some folks have been the gentle type and made sweet little comments. Others have been as soft as crusty Brillo pads, but their coaching has been effective. Each style of love has had its place. That’s important, too.

Just yesterday, I thought about the newest people in my life who had made such an impact with their words—

—“Just be you.”
—“You are enough.”
—“Own it!”
—“Get rid of that! You don’t wear that, do you?”
—“You’re amazingly talented.”

Sometimes the people around us become numb to our ways and/or don’t want to hurt our feelings. It is easy to stay in a rut when that is the case. Sometimes, however, a fringe acquaintance comes in with a boldness and willingness to invest his or her time in us. We have to be open to these new mentors…well, as long as they are coaching in the right moral pathway. That’s a chat for another day.

So now it’s 3:48. The leg cramps are still at bay. The rabid squirrel can rest. Maybe, just maybe, I can squeeze in an hour-long nap before it’s time to start the day.

I’m going to be purposing myself to be someone’s pickle juice suggester today. I want to give something to someone that can make a difference be it big or small. Wouldn’t the world be a sweeter place if we all tried that?

Too bad this sink doesn’t come with a built-in bunk. My pickles and I are wiped out.

Until next time…

 

Bio: Melinda Campbell is a retired educator who currently focuses her efforts on raising her two teenaged boys, advocating for individuals with special needs and against drunk driving, and serving in her local community. Melinda has been gaining recognition for her writings labeled “Reflections from my Kitchen Sink” since the tragic death of her husband Michael in 2015. In her stories, she shares observations from her daily life including moments she has as a solo parent, a widow, and a woman who battles significant health issues including fibromyalgia and depression. Her goal is to encourage others through the experiences that are common to so many. Her practical approach to life’s obstacles has become a weekly mainstay for her readers from across the country.