Remember, Honor Alone

The vacant house stood alone. A vacant neighbor to the left and a drive to the right. The color didn't suit it. Carelessly the door was left open, yet carefully we opened further. Like our hearts the carpet was torn out, and only the sub flooring left with staples exposed. Walls painted with bright colors, again like us, masking the bare walls beneath. It is cold, even when the sun shines through the windows. Empty. Alone.

Kitchen cabinets are empty. The corner counter top once held something special. An event took place here, but the forclosure sign didn't check it off the list. Don't go in the basement, and the footsteps walk passed the stairs. In to what used to be the pink room there is no wisdom. The master is white, I don't enter just like before. Honor. Electric blue covers the other, feel nothing. It is not like the water once spoken of, there is no wind. Remember.

The ground is uneven and the cedars are cut. Shed is lock. There used to be a story. There is no key. Looking for anything, anything to return, nothing. Their footsteps are quick and curious, "I see the water." An event took place here, the shed is locked, there is no key. I don't want to stay, but I don't want to leave. A brick is taken, it is ours, it will ground us. Remember. Honor. Alone.

An event took place here. To the left we see the tiny patch of spring. "Pick them all, pick them low." Seven in the spring. At seven there is an inch; your back, my back. There used to be a story. The shed is locked. Flowers in water and back hand springs when I arrived. The vacant house is alone. Remember, honor, alone.


Ice Cream Sundays

I've been wanting to share this story for a while, yet I haven't had the time. And for the reasons I've wanted to share this story is either really cool, merely selfish time to talk about me, or to show a glimpse into a relationship we (my family) holds dear. Our walk with God and how He delights us, oh so much! So here goes...

A month of Sundays ago I was melancholy. It was soon after I wrote my last blog entry and as wonderful as that felt, I was still sad. Of course when I am sad, I want to fix it, mend it, wipe away the tears and move on, and just be happy. I was offered peace. Ok. Yet, like a little child I always ask for more, the pretty-please-cherry-on-top-little-tiny-sign-hello-from-above. ANYTHING please.

After leaving church we talked about God all day long. It was awesome. We were having that day where your not acting as parent and children, but soul-mates to soul-mates. We were sharing our spirits with each other and it was a beautiful thing, I suggest you try it sometime. We ate lunch, went to the Goodwill (cause Sunday is the best day to go, you know!?!) and drove across to the county to go to a family birthday party.

Because we were talking about God all day the question came up, "So Momma, do you REALLY believe in angels?" I take this question very seriously, pause for dramatics, and boldly answer, "Yes. I do." "Like with the white wings and halos, Mom?" (that's my Ike.) "Well, Ike God is an amazing artist. He designed this whole planet, the whole universe, so I think He made all different kinds of angels. There are some pretty crazy creatures in the last book of Bible, so that's just a taste of what's to come in heaven. I believe God can do anything."

"Do you really think angels come and help us, Mom?" "Yep. They are like God's soldiers, leaving peace and love behind. But, sometimes I think we get to busy to really see and notice they are there at all. Sometimes people start looking at too many things of the world, that they doubt the possibilities of God. They doubt that God wants to be close with us, pray with us, love us, joke around with us, dance with us, paint pretty pictures in the clouds with us. All these things are God's and we are here to enjoy them with Him, but sometimes we don't and we forget. That's when it gets lonely."

"How do we know when it's an angel? How do we know it's God?"-Ike

"Well, for me, sometimes I have a feeling that pulls on my spirit and it tells me to stop, pause, slow down, remember this moment, and I know that God wants me to put my focus back on Him. And sometimes, like the hawk..."

"Oh, yeah. The hawk you see for Daddy." -Lilli

"Yes, that hawk is not Daddy. But when I am feeling strong, at peace with my spirit, God will send me a hawk. And I believe angels help that hawk reach me and with it a "Hello" from your Daddy."

"Like the butterfly and Aunt Rozi?" (still Lilli.) "Yes, like the butterfly and Aunt Rozi."

"Some people call it quinkidinks, I call it a "God thing"."  And we all laughed, driving down the back roads of the country of what used to be our stomping grounds. I keep talking so I didn't focus on the fresh memories of what used to be our home.

"Have I ever told ya'll about the lighter? (they shook their heads no.) Well, when momma was 17 and bad, she smoked cigarettes. I wanted a zippo lighter, just cause all my friends had one and I wanted to be cool. But we weren't. ANYWAY. I went to an antique store and I found a zippo lighter. It was silver plated and had swirl designs on it. I asked the man to remove it from the case; he did and he put it in my hand. When I turned it over there were letters on it. Three letters, initials engraved on the front from top to bottom."

I put my hand in the air so they could see from the back seat. I wrote and spoke the letters as they are on the lighter, "R E H."

When the last letter left my mouth, I saw the pine trees ahead move as if something were falling from it, but nothing was falling. I let off the gas, and watched has the huge bird swooped off the branches of the tree and in front of our car. "And there's a freaking hawk!" We were all screaming and laughing as we watched the red tail hawk pass our car, miss his target above the railroad track, and then circle back. We were able to watch him stretch out his wings and talons with breath-taking power and grace. I looked in the rear-view at my babies, "I told ya'll angels are real! Hey Russ!"  "Hey Daddy!"

Isaac had tiny little tears in his eyes; I don't even think he knew why he was crying. "That was crazy Mom, that hawk came out of nowhere right when you were saying Dad's initials! Are they really on that lighter? That was CRAZY!"  "Do you still have it? Can we see it? Can I hold it?" the pleas of sweet Miss Lilli, always wanting to hold something of Daddy's.

At that point I didn't even know if I could finish the story, but of course I did. "I have the lighter. I bought it and told my friend, "It will mean something someday." I met your dad 2 years after I bought it. He came to my house 2 weeks after we had been dating and saw the lighter. Because I didn't carry it around often I left on my dresser. He picked it up and it hit us both at the same time, "THOSE ARE MY/YOUR INITIALS!" and I remember your dad asking me, "Why are my initials on your lighter?" So I told him the story and even gave him the name of the girl I was shopping with the day I bought, so he didn't think me crazy! That was a "God thing" to me and your dad. We already knew we wanted to be with each other, but to us it was an extra gift."

Blossoms after pruning, beauty from ashes, a cherry on top. What's yours?