Quiet night. Taylor rests with the bean comfy bag warmed up, wrapped in a blanket and no, we do not have air conditioning on. Perry Mason is visiting again in a hushed tone as Taylor’s headache has returned.
She heads to bed early leaving the fury kids and me. They kept wanting to go out, three minutes later in, 10 minutes later out, 5 minutes later in, 15 minutes later out–you get the picture. Finally I just went out with them, sitting on the cement ledge Archie and I made.
We planned the wall around the cement pad, creating a pattern in the blocks. For the caps, we built forms, cut re-bar to size and mixed and poured the cement. It took an entire holiday weekend to accomplish that, however many years ago. We even left holes in the rear corners in case someday we wanted to run electric. We worked well together and could accomplish a lot in short periods of time. It was like choreography designed by our heavenly Dad. I still love the way it turned out.
One year for my birthday he got me the cement retaining blocks to build a fire pit. We didn’t use it much at the back of the yard, so two years ago we brought it up to the patio. He was so particular as to the placement–which turned out superb. He was awesome.
I look at the yard we have so very many pictures of: teams of teenagers on two courts, nets stretched from side to side. The tee-ball games with foster kids and the trampoline that has been dormant for years. Games of frisbe, catch, badminton, and 2 against 1 volleyball, just the three of us. The unsuccessful garden we attempted for three years, last year went to weed. The plans we had to someday landscape now that Taylor is all grown up and large yard space isn’t needed, now… .
So now I sit at the “edge of dark,” as a brother-in-law once called it. I always joked,”So if I go too far, will I fall off?” The sky with variegated shades of light baby blue to azure. The wisps of cloud fluff looked unnatural, as if someone hung enormous cotton balls that had been carefully pulled apart until the cotton was nearly transparent.
The birds, two different kinds, were chirping and warbling, while the crickets were tuning their violins. All the while, the hum of the cars didn’t seem to deter their serenading. I sat staring at Archie’s tree. It’s huge, full, and perfect. He’d take pictures of it through out the year as the color changed. He loved that tree. The light from the disappearing sun glowed through the branches, but was fading as darkness set in.
The birds grew quiet, the road less busy, and the crickets took advantage of their center stage opportunity. I closed my eyes and listened, as my face leaked. It’s odd…do you call it crying every time a tear escapes? In the pallidness of closed eyes, I listened to the rush of the wind breathing through the trees, the leaves shivering with the respiration. When I opened my eyes, the sky was beginning to sparkle as the stars were taking their places as if Act I of the night’s theatrical presentation was about to commence. Though the stars grew brighter, the shadows closed in and my position of admiration faded from the performer’s view. The day was over. The curtain closed.
I opened the door and the pups ran to go to bed, stopping to look at me as if to say,”Are you coming?” I’ll be right there, I quip, as I am still trying to process the thoughts and memories rushing through my mind. So many emotions, not enough categories to sort them all out. I’ve always said,”If you can label it, you can figure out your next step.”
I cannot label the garbled mess of thoughts and feeling. I’m not crying, but the tears don’t stop, so what is that? Confusion and grief–I’m grasping for straws, I really don’t know.
But I know who does:
John 14:26-27 “26 But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. 27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
I don’t have to understand all of my feelings. I just have to trust that my heavenly Dad knows what’s going on and He’s handling it for me.
Until tomorrow, may you have a blessed day, i.e., a day with a boat load of blessings :).