Greg was excited about being home from the grocery store again so he could go play with the neighbor's little boy. Since they had moved into our rent house a few years ago our families had become practically inseparable apart from their religious activities. The mother, Miriam, was young and expecting her second child, and her older husband, Joe, worked in construction for my Jack. Miriam and Josh were great company for Greg and me during the long summer days and early winter nights. Apparently some scandal she or her husband never talked about prevented them from returning to their home town. It apparently had estranged them from the nuclear family. Their loss, our gain. They kept to themselves pretty much when they weren’t at church, which was more than Jack and I were though they continuously invited us even when we adamantly explained we weren‘t believers.
They were a divine couple, always doting on each other and so protective of their firstborn, Josh, who was heaven sent. What a remarkable child he was! I kept suggesting to his parents that they start him in advance schooling. You could tell by Josh's eyes he was inquisitive and sharp. He was destined for great things. He would be the guy you hear about who invented a cure for some deadly disease, you could just sense that about him. I was proud to have him as a companion for my little fellow.
I freed Greg from his car seat, working around hands that were trying unsuccessfully to be useful, and without shilly-shallying he toddled, fell, toddled, fell, toddled over to Josh, who was sitting knee deep in squirrels and birds. It had taken me, myself, some time to adjust to nature's affinity for Josh. From the first morning Miriam placed his play pen in the yard animals would gather around him. They seemed to feel safe in his presence. You'd think he was the king of beasts. Greg's clumsy approach, however sent the little creatures scampering and flying. Miriam waved at me that she would gladly sit for Greg while I toted edible provisions into my kitchen, As they were coming over for dinner, it was the least she could do, she announced, rubbing her enlarged tummy in the expectant mother sort of way.
Later in the evening, dinner done, Mary and I bathed the boys, the toddlers, not the husbands, together in our tub, while our hubbies planned tomorrow's work day. It was like having an extended family. Greg was an only child so far and prospects looked gloomy for a sibling in the next nine months, but not from lack of trying. I was envious of Miriam’s pregnancy, wishing I could have my kids as close together. After the last battle ship was sunk, I toweled Greg dry and cuddled him to death before playing tickly, his baby fresh sweetness permeated my lungs and soul. He enclosed my neck in his arms and kissed my cheek as I laid him in his crib whilst Mary took Josh home to his little bed.
An hour or so latter as Jack and I were preparing to retire, we heard a commotion outside. Pulling the curtains back we discovered a convoy of sorts in front of Miriam and Joe's house. The bright light in the sky that had emerged a while back, and still mystified prominent astrologists, made spying easy. Three limousines and a host of supplementary cars with foreign license plates were parked outside and impressive looking men dressed in Armani suits and sporting turbans were carting things inside. What on earth? I'd never seen anything so impressive off the movie screen.
Neighbors up and down the street gathered on lawns under the illumination of the bright and shining star. Marge from across the lane looked over at me and shrugged. She had no idea what was going on but thought I might. Of course I felt foolish to signal I had no clue. I was suppose to be close to Miriam. I had never had a hint she or Joe had such connections. We all convened together and I was amazed at all the speculations and hypothesis being bandied about. Were they part of some witness protection program or the Mafia? How wealthy were their relatives? How influential? Had they found were they had escaped too? Were they going to be brought back home against their wishes? Should we call the police for….what; taking up too much parking space? Were we in danger by association? Individually the notable guests returned to their chauffer driven vehicles and departed without bringing any captives.
Jack and I lingered to see if Miriam or Joe would come talk to us, to ease our minds and curiosities, but we watched as the lights went out in the living room, and then the bedrooms. No explanations were coming tonight. I don't think I could sleep till morning to go get the scoop but that is exactly what Jack cautioned I do. If they thought it was any of our business they’d tell us. Men! No inquisitiveness what so ever.
I tossed and turned the remainder of the night, Jack’s snoring fueling my anger. I should have gone over and grilled Miriam the instant they were alone. When morning finally arrived, so to speak, ( the rooster was still asleep), I jumped into my slippers and raced across the back yard like a teenager sneaking out of the house against her parents’ orders. Miriam should be up fixing breakfast, remember I knew Joe’s schedule, it was the same as my husbands!
I was infuriated to see that all the lights were still off. No wait. Something else had changed. The star or what ever that had been suspended above us for the past two years was gone, along with it‘s radiance! Along with Joe’s pick up truck! Joe couldn’t have already left for work! I tapped on the door and got a jolt when it opened. Everything was gone. Well mostly everything, clothes, dishes, toys. Stuff was strewn about in substantiation of a rapid departure. The bed wasn’t even made. Miriam always made her bed. I felt like a thief casing the joint. I was in reality trespassing. It was definite that no one anticipated coming back. My friends had stolen away into the night. Left without a good bye.
I was home for about an hour listening to the sounds of the neighborhood waking up when the land phone went off. “Becky, you need to take Greg and leave town, now!” Miriam yelled hysterically.
“Miriam, what’s wrong? If you’re in trouble tell me, we can work it out!” I begged gripping the phone so tight my knuckles whitened.
“We’re not in trouble, but you are! Get Greg and leave! I can’t talk to you any more, bye and I love you!” Click.
Chills went up my spine from the urgency Miriam had imposed on me. I hoisted Greg from his high chair and ran to the car like a maniac. I felt like I was being drawn up into Miriam’s hallucinations of danger. But still….It wouldn’t hurt to go visit my parents for the day. I could make my sudden flight, in pajamas, sound sane. Just call Jack and tell him I had gotten homesick. I was dialing Jack up on my cell phone as a convoy of military trucks passed me, heading into town, men hanging off the sides with high power weapons over their shoulders. I wonder what they were up to? A drill?
“Becky, is that you, Thank the Mother of God you’re all right!” Jack screamed at me when he answered.“What’s wrong?” I asked. Was that gun fire I was hearing?“Just keep going! Don’t turn back. I’ll catch up with you later!” was his response before the line went dead.
My parents sprang out of their door as I pulled into the driveway and snatched Greg from my arms nearly wrenching my shoulder out of it‘s socket. Mom was crying feverishly, muttering things like she never expected to see him again. Dad had to explain to me the news was caring a life report of a military invasion into my city where they were targeting young infant boys, Greg’s age.
Jeremiah 31:15
math 2
Monday, December 24, 2007
Christmas eve Nightmare
As my Buddy and I made our way to the big city, we listened to music on the radio. Frosty the snowman. Jingle Bells. Santa is Coming to Town. Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer. And my personal favorite, Grandma got Run over by a Reindeer; Not! I didn’t know a single reindeer that would be that careless. The songs were meant to get people ready for the holidays, a word short for the Holy Days. Days that have lost their meanings. Become secular. The Holy left the days. I looked at my riding partner, a tear in my eye. He looked at me and nodded understandingly.
On the main thoroughfare, we passed several idle churches; they at least had their nativity scenes in prominent places on display. I was proud of my religion for not caving in with the public sentiments of taking Jesus out of the season. The Jewish synagogues we passed were closed with big portly, “No services tomorrow!” signs on the lawns. My friend smiled at these places of worship. He grew up in a very Jewish family and memories flooded his brain. He never became a Christian but had lots of friends and family who were.
We drove by several schools with “Happy Holidays” on their signboards. They were closed for “winter break” so the students could practice whatever truth their parents were teaching them this century. The yards in the neighborhood were littered with blow up decorations: snowmen, stout men in red suits waving black gloved hands as the wind rose and dwindled, lighted reindeers, enormous globes filled with animated creatures doing some cutesy Christmas-y things, all tied to the earth with rope to keep them from rising into the heavens and getting lost in outer space, and believe me, I was tempted to cut a few loose. To me they looked like air-filled trash. We only saw an occasional reminder of what was once called Christmas and for more years than it was not called Christmas. The growing population would soon not be able to recall the season’s origin. The past can easily be forgotten in one generation. Some folks bravely displayed a man, woman and child on their lawns without fear of popular opinion. A nostalgic smile visited my friend’s face. More memories flooded his eyes! Happy memories.
On some streets, we passed groups of singers gathered where the residents stood in appreciation, with hot cocoa and cookies ready to be distributed to the traveling entertainers, who first had to request permission to sing. Here we finally heard songs like Silent Night, Little Town of Bethlehem, Hark the Herald Angels; however, some of the neighbors were slamming their windows shut in passive aggressive disdain. Some even turned their stereos up full blast and encouraged their youngsters to run out and play to create distractions. You surely can’t blame immature behavior only on the young, they were taught to be rude by their elders. Teenagers drove by hurling taunts along with refuse at the choral groups. I cursed and Buddy looked sharply at me, his heart was big enough to make justifications for the errant youths. He was more forgiving than I was. I was righteously angry. Hurt. Disappointed. Embarrassed.
We eventually found the local mall, our goal, and parked way at the back. Not by choice, I wasn’t into exercise, but because it was the last available space. People returning to their cars were carrying loads of packages, grumbling about it in the process. I used to consider it a privilege to buy for those in need. These folks however were buying for themselves and those they…loved? I think. Cars that had “honk if you love Jesus”, were blaring at pedestrians who were preventing them from getting between two vacant white lines. I wasn’t ready for this. I had heard all the rumors and now I didn’t want to substantiate them. Ignorance was bliss as far as I was concerned. I wanted to remain blissful. I begged my Buddy to let me stay ignorant, to let me gracefully back out of my decision, I no longer wanted to investigate the scandals I’ve heard. I volunteered to wait outside for him. He smiled amused and nodded at the car door. It was time to go in, to face the music.
Inside I closed my eyes, reopened them and closed them again.. It was a nightmare. The nightmare before Christmas. This was Christmas Eve? All the faces that passed me looked anything but peaceful and serene. No one seemed enthused about the upcoming hours or their significance. I heard kids screaming obscenities at their guardians (were they really the parents? I would have knocked them into the next world if they had spoken to me like that!) The foul language was for not being able to snatch items from other shopper’s hands at cash registers. The poor darlings weren’t getting their Christmas wishes. Funny they use the word Christmas when doing their shopping. Despite the terminology of “Happy Holidays,” Christmas gifts are still called Christmas gifts.
Mobs of unsupervised adolescents wandered about, picking pockets, creating unsupervised havoc. Stuffing things in their overly baggy pants from counter tops and back shelves to present to some recipient of stolen goods tomorrow morning; not getting caught by the over worked, underpaid and non-interested security guards. A couple of wacky appearing “kids” looking more like trick or treaters, brushed past me. Did they think I was just born yesterday? Not even close. I did not check my pockets though; I knew they would be empty. I didn’t bring anything with me. I kept my valuables in a safe place, free from moth and rust. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be attacked for having nothing to offer. I had better not go down any lonely hallways. I looked about me. There was no chance of that! The holidays had worldly requirements and deadlines, and as usual, everyone waited until the last possible moment to fulfill their perceived obligations. I gathered no one was home now, except the burglars,(only, not at their homes!) this was their busiest and most rewarding night.
There he was. Who we had come to see. Who I had come to see. Rather, who I was hoping to not see. I was praying it had all been a malicious untruth! A line of crying, snotty nosed kids and their parents, that stretched into oblivion was formed in front of a tired, harassed, burly old man. No, he was in his twenties, just disguised to look old. Old and jolly. Only the jolly left hours ago while the aging had progressed. Plump Boy was asking his visitors if they had been good or bad. What difference did it make to him? Unless he was God, he did not get to be the judge! He was fragrantly lying to toddlers and their brothers and sisters. He was promising them things that wouldn’t be found under the tree. I hated to think of their disappointment. They might as well get used to it though, the world would continue to disillusion them till they day they died. I could see the sweat forming on faces of mother’s and father’s as they eavesdropped on the confidential requests. Clearly they shouldn‘t have waited until the last minute to bring their youngsters to the big fat liar if they had planned to use him for their shopping needs. It looked like they had more frenzied scavenger hunting to squeeze into the next two hours.
I’d seen enough. More than enough. I begged my Buddy to take me home but not before I attempted to stop a passing police officer.
“Arrest that man for identity theft,” I yelled. The officer shook his head at me in disgust. He was too busy with real crime to pay me any consideration! I couldn’t even get any consideration from the fashion police. This man should be arrested for something. Wasn’t lying to children a crime? I wanted out of this asylum of lost souls. My Buddy informed me that lost was a relevant term. Breathing still qualified people for a chance at redemption.
It took some time to make it back to our auto. Other vehicles tailed us, ready to pounce in the vacancy we would create. Cursing emanated from open windows urging us to walk faster. I think I deliberately slowed down. No, I know I deliberately slowed down. Passive aggressive. Patience was a learned trait and these jerks were going to learn patience tonight. Buddy grinned at my stubbornness. The driver that got our space even disgorged profanity at us for being so far out. As if we had a choice!
Retracing our path, we passed cars that swayed from lane to lane, coming dangerously close to us, and ran red lights. The occupants, wearing red hats with white fluff and bells, toasted us with beer cans or bottles when we got ahead of them before they tossed the empties along the road side.
On the way home I was once again humiliated at the absence of lines at the churches. Some weren’t even lit up for business tonight. Plenty of available parking in these lots. No lines at the churches but lines in front of a semi mythical obese character that lied for a living. What has the world coming to? This was not what I had in mind centuries ago when I began helping the poor. Besides most of the kids at the mall didn’t appear poverty stricken. I was given credit for some of the madness that had been shackled to my shoulders. My name had been sullied and Buddy’s name forgotten.
Way down the road, I pulled over and jumped out of the car. I had to pace. I needed to weaken my cynicism, lower my blood pressure. Oh, wait. I didn’t have blood pressure problems. I didn’t even have a pulse…anymore. Lowering my eyes, I apologized copiously to my Lord who now stood before me.
“Jesus, I’m sorry it has come to this. I never met to upstage you.”“Nick, don’t worry about it. I’m a good judge of character. I know what your intentions were, and they have been rewarded. This generation will be judged on its own merit. You were a good and faithful servant. I’m pleased your generosity spread and lasted as long as it did. Receive your rest with joy.”
Cars passing us slowed down before they wrecked; astonished to see a man dressed in a simple red flannel cloak, trimmed with ermine, kneeling down in unabashed worship and adoration in front of a gentleman in a glowing white robe wearing a gold crown and holding a scepter, flanked by a royal host. This would be one Christmas those trekkers would remember for longer than a life time! What a shame it’s a story no one would believe as the truth seems to hold no value anymore.
On the main thoroughfare, we passed several idle churches; they at least had their nativity scenes in prominent places on display. I was proud of my religion for not caving in with the public sentiments of taking Jesus out of the season. The Jewish synagogues we passed were closed with big portly, “No services tomorrow!” signs on the lawns. My friend smiled at these places of worship. He grew up in a very Jewish family and memories flooded his brain. He never became a Christian but had lots of friends and family who were.
We drove by several schools with “Happy Holidays” on their signboards. They were closed for “winter break” so the students could practice whatever truth their parents were teaching them this century. The yards in the neighborhood were littered with blow up decorations: snowmen, stout men in red suits waving black gloved hands as the wind rose and dwindled, lighted reindeers, enormous globes filled with animated creatures doing some cutesy Christmas-y things, all tied to the earth with rope to keep them from rising into the heavens and getting lost in outer space, and believe me, I was tempted to cut a few loose. To me they looked like air-filled trash. We only saw an occasional reminder of what was once called Christmas and for more years than it was not called Christmas. The growing population would soon not be able to recall the season’s origin. The past can easily be forgotten in one generation. Some folks bravely displayed a man, woman and child on their lawns without fear of popular opinion. A nostalgic smile visited my friend’s face. More memories flooded his eyes! Happy memories.
On some streets, we passed groups of singers gathered where the residents stood in appreciation, with hot cocoa and cookies ready to be distributed to the traveling entertainers, who first had to request permission to sing. Here we finally heard songs like Silent Night, Little Town of Bethlehem, Hark the Herald Angels; however, some of the neighbors were slamming their windows shut in passive aggressive disdain. Some even turned their stereos up full blast and encouraged their youngsters to run out and play to create distractions. You surely can’t blame immature behavior only on the young, they were taught to be rude by their elders. Teenagers drove by hurling taunts along with refuse at the choral groups. I cursed and Buddy looked sharply at me, his heart was big enough to make justifications for the errant youths. He was more forgiving than I was. I was righteously angry. Hurt. Disappointed. Embarrassed.
We eventually found the local mall, our goal, and parked way at the back. Not by choice, I wasn’t into exercise, but because it was the last available space. People returning to their cars were carrying loads of packages, grumbling about it in the process. I used to consider it a privilege to buy for those in need. These folks however were buying for themselves and those they…loved? I think. Cars that had “honk if you love Jesus”, were blaring at pedestrians who were preventing them from getting between two vacant white lines. I wasn’t ready for this. I had heard all the rumors and now I didn’t want to substantiate them. Ignorance was bliss as far as I was concerned. I wanted to remain blissful. I begged my Buddy to let me stay ignorant, to let me gracefully back out of my decision, I no longer wanted to investigate the scandals I’ve heard. I volunteered to wait outside for him. He smiled amused and nodded at the car door. It was time to go in, to face the music.
Inside I closed my eyes, reopened them and closed them again.. It was a nightmare. The nightmare before Christmas. This was Christmas Eve? All the faces that passed me looked anything but peaceful and serene. No one seemed enthused about the upcoming hours or their significance. I heard kids screaming obscenities at their guardians (were they really the parents? I would have knocked them into the next world if they had spoken to me like that!) The foul language was for not being able to snatch items from other shopper’s hands at cash registers. The poor darlings weren’t getting their Christmas wishes. Funny they use the word Christmas when doing their shopping. Despite the terminology of “Happy Holidays,” Christmas gifts are still called Christmas gifts.
Mobs of unsupervised adolescents wandered about, picking pockets, creating unsupervised havoc. Stuffing things in their overly baggy pants from counter tops and back shelves to present to some recipient of stolen goods tomorrow morning; not getting caught by the over worked, underpaid and non-interested security guards. A couple of wacky appearing “kids” looking more like trick or treaters, brushed past me. Did they think I was just born yesterday? Not even close. I did not check my pockets though; I knew they would be empty. I didn’t bring anything with me. I kept my valuables in a safe place, free from moth and rust. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be attacked for having nothing to offer. I had better not go down any lonely hallways. I looked about me. There was no chance of that! The holidays had worldly requirements and deadlines, and as usual, everyone waited until the last possible moment to fulfill their perceived obligations. I gathered no one was home now, except the burglars,(only, not at their homes!) this was their busiest and most rewarding night.
There he was. Who we had come to see. Who I had come to see. Rather, who I was hoping to not see. I was praying it had all been a malicious untruth! A line of crying, snotty nosed kids and their parents, that stretched into oblivion was formed in front of a tired, harassed, burly old man. No, he was in his twenties, just disguised to look old. Old and jolly. Only the jolly left hours ago while the aging had progressed. Plump Boy was asking his visitors if they had been good or bad. What difference did it make to him? Unless he was God, he did not get to be the judge! He was fragrantly lying to toddlers and their brothers and sisters. He was promising them things that wouldn’t be found under the tree. I hated to think of their disappointment. They might as well get used to it though, the world would continue to disillusion them till they day they died. I could see the sweat forming on faces of mother’s and father’s as they eavesdropped on the confidential requests. Clearly they shouldn‘t have waited until the last minute to bring their youngsters to the big fat liar if they had planned to use him for their shopping needs. It looked like they had more frenzied scavenger hunting to squeeze into the next two hours.
I’d seen enough. More than enough. I begged my Buddy to take me home but not before I attempted to stop a passing police officer.
“Arrest that man for identity theft,” I yelled. The officer shook his head at me in disgust. He was too busy with real crime to pay me any consideration! I couldn’t even get any consideration from the fashion police. This man should be arrested for something. Wasn’t lying to children a crime? I wanted out of this asylum of lost souls. My Buddy informed me that lost was a relevant term. Breathing still qualified people for a chance at redemption.
It took some time to make it back to our auto. Other vehicles tailed us, ready to pounce in the vacancy we would create. Cursing emanated from open windows urging us to walk faster. I think I deliberately slowed down. No, I know I deliberately slowed down. Passive aggressive. Patience was a learned trait and these jerks were going to learn patience tonight. Buddy grinned at my stubbornness. The driver that got our space even disgorged profanity at us for being so far out. As if we had a choice!
Retracing our path, we passed cars that swayed from lane to lane, coming dangerously close to us, and ran red lights. The occupants, wearing red hats with white fluff and bells, toasted us with beer cans or bottles when we got ahead of them before they tossed the empties along the road side.
On the way home I was once again humiliated at the absence of lines at the churches. Some weren’t even lit up for business tonight. Plenty of available parking in these lots. No lines at the churches but lines in front of a semi mythical obese character that lied for a living. What has the world coming to? This was not what I had in mind centuries ago when I began helping the poor. Besides most of the kids at the mall didn’t appear poverty stricken. I was given credit for some of the madness that had been shackled to my shoulders. My name had been sullied and Buddy’s name forgotten.
Way down the road, I pulled over and jumped out of the car. I had to pace. I needed to weaken my cynicism, lower my blood pressure. Oh, wait. I didn’t have blood pressure problems. I didn’t even have a pulse…anymore. Lowering my eyes, I apologized copiously to my Lord who now stood before me.
“Jesus, I’m sorry it has come to this. I never met to upstage you.”“Nick, don’t worry about it. I’m a good judge of character. I know what your intentions were, and they have been rewarded. This generation will be judged on its own merit. You were a good and faithful servant. I’m pleased your generosity spread and lasted as long as it did. Receive your rest with joy.”
Cars passing us slowed down before they wrecked; astonished to see a man dressed in a simple red flannel cloak, trimmed with ermine, kneeling down in unabashed worship and adoration in front of a gentleman in a glowing white robe wearing a gold crown and holding a scepter, flanked by a royal host. This would be one Christmas those trekkers would remember for longer than a life time! What a shame it’s a story no one would believe as the truth seems to hold no value anymore.
dinner and a movie
Winter was here, along with the early onset of sundown. Shorter colder days. Blissful relaxing evenings. I had brought home several good movies to share with my daughter, Cindy, tonight. They would also entertain Scruffy, my terrier. Cindy could always tell me how they ended as I probably would be asleep way before the starting credits finished. No, seriously, I'd maybe see the first thirty minutes.
Dinner, that was prepared by my favorite cook from the “Golden Arches” was spread out on the coffee table next to several DVDs to choose from. Now all I needed to do was summon Cindy downstairs. Too lazy too ascend upward I tex messaged her that dinner was being served by the entertainment center. I loved being alive in this century!
Cindy came bouncing downstairs, her coat draped over her arms, scarf and gloves wadded up in her hands.
"I could turn the heat up for you if it's that cold." I announced feeling a tad under dressed in my house coat and terrycloth robe. "Oh, you’re funny. I'm meeting the girls at the mall." Cindy proclaimed nonchalantly. "Oh, whose picking you up?" "No one, we're walking there."
Count down, the staring contest has begun. I waited patiently for the punch line. None was forthcoming.
I looked at the dark window where all I could see was the reflection of two women at a standstill in a living room in some other dimension. It certainly wasn't a scene taking place in here "Oh, no you're not" I stated, coolly and firmly.
"But mom, all the other mother's don't care." "Wait till they give you all permission to hold hands and jump off a bridge and I might agree, but this isn't going to happen." I proclaimed. Oh, great, here it comes, the verbal sewage of a youth spurned. Blah, blah, blah, mature....blah, blah, trust.. blah, blah, embarrassed, blah blah, hate you! Scruffy, sitting on the floor between us moved his head from speaker to speaker as though he was in a ping pong tournament.
Oh thank heavens for the phone. It couldn't have picked a better time to interrupt our family group encounter.
"Honey, there is an escape criminal heading your way, I just heard it on the news!" Mom, ever the chaos addict, blurted out the live news update all in one breath, almost making the sentence sound like one word. I didn't need this now!
"Mom, I'm more concerned about the guy next door that hasn't committed his first crime yet. Every one and their dog will be on the look out for this guy!" I guess lack of respect runs in both directions. I know mom is just worried about us.
Before I could use this tid-bit of information to my advantage on Cindy she burst into tears and pounded upstairs to escape from the wicked witch of the west, or me, one and the same. Well, that went good, I thought as the house reverberated from a door slamming some where above probably forming battle scars in the sheet rock, if not shifting the very foundation of the house.
Scruffy, laid down, rolled his eyes inward, put his paws over his ears and whined. He hated family disputes. "You’re lucky you don't have kids ….er ,,.pups." I said. dogs had the right idea, any thing longer than eight weeks was long term parenting. Let's see, I've been doing this for fifteen years and five months longer than required. I should get a metal. Or at the least, ear plugs.
This little set back wasn’t going to deter me from enjoying the evening. Scruffy was enough company for me. We sat on the sofa like old lovers. While I munched on my hamburger, Scruffy followed every bite that entered my mouth, salivating profusely until I offered him Cindy’s portion, since she didn‘t seem to be joining us tonight. He possessed supreme table manners, not leaving a crumb behind for me to pick up.
Sometime latter I was awakened by a cold wet nose nudging my neck, followed by a dry rough tongue exploring my ear. As I persisted in ignoring this intrusion into my comatose state, paws started scratching my arms, insistently. I rolled over and buried my face in the cushions only for an agile, expert, explorer to re locate me.
“Okay, okay.” I muttered getting up to let Scruffy out the back door. He apparently had urgent business to attend to. Scruffy then took me by surprise, doing something he hasn’t done since puppy hood, he hurdled himself off into the woods like an Olympic sprinter. Great. I rushed after him but not before grabbing my multi purpose flashlight from the kitchen counter.
Swinging the light from side to side and calling Scruffy’s name, I heard some scuffling coming from bushes off to my left. The sound of a struggle. Some kids were horsing around! No, someone was not enjoying whatever was happening. I turned to go and call the police but heard muffled screams and decided help would get here too late by the time I got home and dialed 911. I’m not a hero, nor am I stronger than a man. What to do? What to do? If that was my daughter in there what would I do? As I was deliberating Scruffy came soaring over the bushes. Some one had thrown him out! He scampered off whimpering and yapping. That did it! In I ran charged by anger and without much of a plan but with my flashlight blazing.
The light caught a man off guard, blinding him as he straddled a young girl fighting for her life, or more likely, her virtue, hair in her face, torn clothes tossed about. I seized the man’s collar like a pro and yanked him to his feet. Oops, it looked easy in the movies. He didn’t budge…much. He did oblige me my rising to his feet, allowing the to girl spring up and bolt off. But now his hostilities were turned towards me.
“Hey, come back here, two are stronger than one!” I croaked after the retreating form.
I stepped back, loosing an Igor house shoe, (hey, it went with my Winnie the Pooh bathrobe) and belatedly started questioning my judgment. This guy was big, ugly and muscular. He was also infuriated for having lost his Friday night date. But no, a substitution had arrived. I slowly retreated, flashlight aimed in his eyes. He slowly advanced, grinning brutally.
“I have a dog with me!” I threatened. A little agitated with Scruffy for getting me into this quandary.
“Yea, I’ve seen your dog!” he exclaimed lunging at me and throwing me on my back. “That little thing, that wasn’t mine.” Is lying wrong when you’re lying to a jerk?
Wolf! Wolf! Wolf! Came from far in the back ground. Scruffy, bless his heart! Assailant fell down on top of me clamping my mouth shut. I switched the alarm button on the flashlight still clutched in my hand. Loud wailing issued forth for a split second before Assailant bashed it to pieces with a hammer fist. Wolf! Wolf! Getting louder. Scruffy was returning, this wasn‘t very comforting. He already had lost round one.
My assailant commenced laughing, believe me, laughter isn‘t always contagious. He knew it was going to be swiftly over with, and I would be the looser.
Scruffy rematerialized doing a war dance around Assailant bringing more raucous laughter from the meanest man I’ve met in a long time.
I squeezed my eyes closed to protect myself. Why do people think things will hurt less if they aren’t watching? I missed the next couple of seconds. Something massive hurled over me and my attacker went sprawling backwards. I had felt fur tickle my face for just an instant. Scruffy? Had he gained like ninety pounds in the last few minutes? Someone must have left a lot of edible trash outside! No sounds. Then gurgling.
Fearfully opening my eyes one at a time, I crossed the threshold of a world turned upside down. Assailant was on his back, motionless. A colossal beast was astride Assailant with his jaws wrapped around his throat! More precisely, his jugulars, No blood was flowing, but a powerful insinuation hung in the air that resistance would be a bad thing. Assailant had become the victim, sniveling for mercy. Fat chance. How does that feel, big boy? I twisted around, jumped to my feet and tightened my robe before a man burst in on us. The dog’s owner, a Barney Fife look alike, all blustered and confused, (thank heavens the dog was in control!) started punching numbers into his cell phone. With any luck, he wouldn’t misdial with those “steady” hands of his. Scruffy, who had positioned himself in Assailant’s line of vision (so he could smirk at him), had brought the Mounties to the rescue in the shape of a bullmastiff. Scruffy’s expression said, “That’s what you get for throwing me around, tough guy.” Yep, Scruffy was acting all testosterone-y, pleased with himself. Little guys learn early to make hefty friends!
After Assailant was securely in a patrol car and all the reports had been filed, Scruffy and I were driven home by the police. I had been lectured on personal safety and dead heroes. People died assisting relatives and friends, but dying for a stranger was God’s job, or so I was told. The initial victim had never been located. She must have flown home. With any luck she learned a valuable lesson about wandering about after dark. Maybe her parent’s should be stricter.
The ice tray on the kitchen counter indicated that Cindy had been down. I guess her appetite caught up with her, she must have come down for a snack since Scruffy had enjoyed her dinner. Passing Cindy’s bedroom on my way to the shower I could hear her sobbing. Still mad at me for refusing her autonomy. I thought about peeking in on her but decided I was too depleted of energy. Nearly getting killed (or worse) always takes it out of me. I’m just glad I was unyielding enough to keep her safely in the house. The wicked witch, that’s me. I hope somebody else’s daughter is home safe and sound now, hugging her parents and counting her blessings.
The bathroom also showed evidence of Cindy’s presence. I sure wish if she was mature and expected trust she could learn to pick up after herself. I sighed, cleaned up and went to bed, but not before thanking God that we were all safe and sound.
The next morning Cindy came up behind me at the kitchen table while I was sipping coffee and scanning the newspaper for last nights crime reports. I had a feeling I might see something that interested me in either today’s or tomorrow‘s news. My one an only prayer was that mom never found out I had been outside in my pajamas, I’d never hear the end of it!
“Well, I hope you’re in a better mood this morning?” I mumbled, swallowing my coffee. “Because I had a horrible night and don’t need any attitude.”
“Mom?” Cindy’s voice quivered oddly.
Putting my coffee cup and paper down I turned to give her my attention, expecting an apology. I took a deep breath, vaulted out of my chair sending it crashing to the floor, and clasped Cindy in my arms. Her right eye, cheek and nose were swollen and covered in an ice pack. Bruises were splattered over her arms. The mystery girl from last night! I hadn’t saved a stranger. I had saved my daughter. My daughter who would be grounded for and interminable time not to precede her sixtieth birthday.
Outside Barney Fife and his dog were witnessing the kitchen scene at a discreet distance.“Next time I get to be the hero.” Barney proclaimed.“Depends on who gets heads or tail,” Dog answered while scratching his ear and licking his…never mind.“Oh, that is so un-angel like!” Barney commented in disgust.“Oh yea, how about a kissey?” Dog asked as he rose to his full height transforming into a magnificent celestial creature with puckered lips.“No way, get away from me you fool before I turn you into the sexual harassment committee!” Barney threatened renovating himself into the same angelic species and shooting off into space.
Scruffy, wagging his tail exuberantly, observed the strange exchange from a window. Those two were always around when he needed help caring for his owners. He barked a hearty fair well to his friends as they blasted home through the morning sunrise.
Dinner, that was prepared by my favorite cook from the “Golden Arches” was spread out on the coffee table next to several DVDs to choose from. Now all I needed to do was summon Cindy downstairs. Too lazy too ascend upward I tex messaged her that dinner was being served by the entertainment center. I loved being alive in this century!
Cindy came bouncing downstairs, her coat draped over her arms, scarf and gloves wadded up in her hands.
"I could turn the heat up for you if it's that cold." I announced feeling a tad under dressed in my house coat and terrycloth robe. "Oh, you’re funny. I'm meeting the girls at the mall." Cindy proclaimed nonchalantly. "Oh, whose picking you up?" "No one, we're walking there."
Count down, the staring contest has begun. I waited patiently for the punch line. None was forthcoming.
I looked at the dark window where all I could see was the reflection of two women at a standstill in a living room in some other dimension. It certainly wasn't a scene taking place in here "Oh, no you're not" I stated, coolly and firmly.
"But mom, all the other mother's don't care." "Wait till they give you all permission to hold hands and jump off a bridge and I might agree, but this isn't going to happen." I proclaimed. Oh, great, here it comes, the verbal sewage of a youth spurned. Blah, blah, blah, mature....blah, blah, trust.. blah, blah, embarrassed, blah blah, hate you! Scruffy, sitting on the floor between us moved his head from speaker to speaker as though he was in a ping pong tournament.
Oh thank heavens for the phone. It couldn't have picked a better time to interrupt our family group encounter.
"Honey, there is an escape criminal heading your way, I just heard it on the news!" Mom, ever the chaos addict, blurted out the live news update all in one breath, almost making the sentence sound like one word. I didn't need this now!
"Mom, I'm more concerned about the guy next door that hasn't committed his first crime yet. Every one and their dog will be on the look out for this guy!" I guess lack of respect runs in both directions. I know mom is just worried about us.
Before I could use this tid-bit of information to my advantage on Cindy she burst into tears and pounded upstairs to escape from the wicked witch of the west, or me, one and the same. Well, that went good, I thought as the house reverberated from a door slamming some where above probably forming battle scars in the sheet rock, if not shifting the very foundation of the house.
Scruffy, laid down, rolled his eyes inward, put his paws over his ears and whined. He hated family disputes. "You’re lucky you don't have kids ….er ,,.pups." I said. dogs had the right idea, any thing longer than eight weeks was long term parenting. Let's see, I've been doing this for fifteen years and five months longer than required. I should get a metal. Or at the least, ear plugs.
This little set back wasn’t going to deter me from enjoying the evening. Scruffy was enough company for me. We sat on the sofa like old lovers. While I munched on my hamburger, Scruffy followed every bite that entered my mouth, salivating profusely until I offered him Cindy’s portion, since she didn‘t seem to be joining us tonight. He possessed supreme table manners, not leaving a crumb behind for me to pick up.
Sometime latter I was awakened by a cold wet nose nudging my neck, followed by a dry rough tongue exploring my ear. As I persisted in ignoring this intrusion into my comatose state, paws started scratching my arms, insistently. I rolled over and buried my face in the cushions only for an agile, expert, explorer to re locate me.
“Okay, okay.” I muttered getting up to let Scruffy out the back door. He apparently had urgent business to attend to. Scruffy then took me by surprise, doing something he hasn’t done since puppy hood, he hurdled himself off into the woods like an Olympic sprinter. Great. I rushed after him but not before grabbing my multi purpose flashlight from the kitchen counter.
Swinging the light from side to side and calling Scruffy’s name, I heard some scuffling coming from bushes off to my left. The sound of a struggle. Some kids were horsing around! No, someone was not enjoying whatever was happening. I turned to go and call the police but heard muffled screams and decided help would get here too late by the time I got home and dialed 911. I’m not a hero, nor am I stronger than a man. What to do? What to do? If that was my daughter in there what would I do? As I was deliberating Scruffy came soaring over the bushes. Some one had thrown him out! He scampered off whimpering and yapping. That did it! In I ran charged by anger and without much of a plan but with my flashlight blazing.
The light caught a man off guard, blinding him as he straddled a young girl fighting for her life, or more likely, her virtue, hair in her face, torn clothes tossed about. I seized the man’s collar like a pro and yanked him to his feet. Oops, it looked easy in the movies. He didn’t budge…much. He did oblige me my rising to his feet, allowing the to girl spring up and bolt off. But now his hostilities were turned towards me.
“Hey, come back here, two are stronger than one!” I croaked after the retreating form.
I stepped back, loosing an Igor house shoe, (hey, it went with my Winnie the Pooh bathrobe) and belatedly started questioning my judgment. This guy was big, ugly and muscular. He was also infuriated for having lost his Friday night date. But no, a substitution had arrived. I slowly retreated, flashlight aimed in his eyes. He slowly advanced, grinning brutally.
“I have a dog with me!” I threatened. A little agitated with Scruffy for getting me into this quandary.
“Yea, I’ve seen your dog!” he exclaimed lunging at me and throwing me on my back. “That little thing, that wasn’t mine.” Is lying wrong when you’re lying to a jerk?
Wolf! Wolf! Wolf! Came from far in the back ground. Scruffy, bless his heart! Assailant fell down on top of me clamping my mouth shut. I switched the alarm button on the flashlight still clutched in my hand. Loud wailing issued forth for a split second before Assailant bashed it to pieces with a hammer fist. Wolf! Wolf! Getting louder. Scruffy was returning, this wasn‘t very comforting. He already had lost round one.
My assailant commenced laughing, believe me, laughter isn‘t always contagious. He knew it was going to be swiftly over with, and I would be the looser.
Scruffy rematerialized doing a war dance around Assailant bringing more raucous laughter from the meanest man I’ve met in a long time.
I squeezed my eyes closed to protect myself. Why do people think things will hurt less if they aren’t watching? I missed the next couple of seconds. Something massive hurled over me and my attacker went sprawling backwards. I had felt fur tickle my face for just an instant. Scruffy? Had he gained like ninety pounds in the last few minutes? Someone must have left a lot of edible trash outside! No sounds. Then gurgling.
Fearfully opening my eyes one at a time, I crossed the threshold of a world turned upside down. Assailant was on his back, motionless. A colossal beast was astride Assailant with his jaws wrapped around his throat! More precisely, his jugulars, No blood was flowing, but a powerful insinuation hung in the air that resistance would be a bad thing. Assailant had become the victim, sniveling for mercy. Fat chance. How does that feel, big boy? I twisted around, jumped to my feet and tightened my robe before a man burst in on us. The dog’s owner, a Barney Fife look alike, all blustered and confused, (thank heavens the dog was in control!) started punching numbers into his cell phone. With any luck, he wouldn’t misdial with those “steady” hands of his. Scruffy, who had positioned himself in Assailant’s line of vision (so he could smirk at him), had brought the Mounties to the rescue in the shape of a bullmastiff. Scruffy’s expression said, “That’s what you get for throwing me around, tough guy.” Yep, Scruffy was acting all testosterone-y, pleased with himself. Little guys learn early to make hefty friends!
After Assailant was securely in a patrol car and all the reports had been filed, Scruffy and I were driven home by the police. I had been lectured on personal safety and dead heroes. People died assisting relatives and friends, but dying for a stranger was God’s job, or so I was told. The initial victim had never been located. She must have flown home. With any luck she learned a valuable lesson about wandering about after dark. Maybe her parent’s should be stricter.
The ice tray on the kitchen counter indicated that Cindy had been down. I guess her appetite caught up with her, she must have come down for a snack since Scruffy had enjoyed her dinner. Passing Cindy’s bedroom on my way to the shower I could hear her sobbing. Still mad at me for refusing her autonomy. I thought about peeking in on her but decided I was too depleted of energy. Nearly getting killed (or worse) always takes it out of me. I’m just glad I was unyielding enough to keep her safely in the house. The wicked witch, that’s me. I hope somebody else’s daughter is home safe and sound now, hugging her parents and counting her blessings.
The bathroom also showed evidence of Cindy’s presence. I sure wish if she was mature and expected trust she could learn to pick up after herself. I sighed, cleaned up and went to bed, but not before thanking God that we were all safe and sound.
The next morning Cindy came up behind me at the kitchen table while I was sipping coffee and scanning the newspaper for last nights crime reports. I had a feeling I might see something that interested me in either today’s or tomorrow‘s news. My one an only prayer was that mom never found out I had been outside in my pajamas, I’d never hear the end of it!
“Well, I hope you’re in a better mood this morning?” I mumbled, swallowing my coffee. “Because I had a horrible night and don’t need any attitude.”
“Mom?” Cindy’s voice quivered oddly.
Putting my coffee cup and paper down I turned to give her my attention, expecting an apology. I took a deep breath, vaulted out of my chair sending it crashing to the floor, and clasped Cindy in my arms. Her right eye, cheek and nose were swollen and covered in an ice pack. Bruises were splattered over her arms. The mystery girl from last night! I hadn’t saved a stranger. I had saved my daughter. My daughter who would be grounded for and interminable time not to precede her sixtieth birthday.
Outside Barney Fife and his dog were witnessing the kitchen scene at a discreet distance.“Next time I get to be the hero.” Barney proclaimed.“Depends on who gets heads or tail,” Dog answered while scratching his ear and licking his…never mind.“Oh, that is so un-angel like!” Barney commented in disgust.“Oh yea, how about a kissey?” Dog asked as he rose to his full height transforming into a magnificent celestial creature with puckered lips.“No way, get away from me you fool before I turn you into the sexual harassment committee!” Barney threatened renovating himself into the same angelic species and shooting off into space.
Scruffy, wagging his tail exuberantly, observed the strange exchange from a window. Those two were always around when he needed help caring for his owners. He barked a hearty fair well to his friends as they blasted home through the morning sunrise.
The call
The call
Once I developed a plan my spirits lightened. Nothing like being in control, having a goal. I meticulously carried out my strategy. With each accomplishment came more resolve. A no turning back agreement with myself. My soul felt like it had been wrapped in a dark blanket and stuffed in a small airless closet. A mood of complete despair and hopelessness permeated my very core…till I cultivated my plan. I watered it daily and bit by bit it grew.
I started with my possessions. I had too many. I wouldn’t be able to use them much longer, or enjoy in them. No sense in letting them go to waste, so….my clothes went first, in jaunts to my daughters. They however considered my wardrobe too dowdy for their tastes so the majority of my garments made it to Goodwill, where people needier than I could take pleasure in them at a price more reasonable than what I paid for them.
Now my jewelry. That was different subject. The quarreling over who deserved what piece the most was pathetic. It would have been nice if they had questioned why I decided I would no longer need diamonds, they were so self absorbed. I had never let them borrow them in the past, now I was putting them up for grabs! After all, diamonds fit into every time period. One can never say, "Oh, that stone has been out of style for centuries now." Is it no wonder with kids like mine that I’m despondent? No, I can’t blame it all on them. Good try through. I drove away from their homes with tears filling the floorboards, making my car a portable bathtub. I would miss them. Unbelievable.
Next I invited my friends over for a get together. One last visit to remember me by. They were all glad to hear I was feeling better. They had stopped including me in things I had enjoyed doing with them months ago, I would either not show up or appear with red swollen eyes, looking pathetic, a real party downer. They hadn’t seen me dressed up in a while. Groomed. Make up on. Laughing. If they only knew. If they could only see inside me. They had no idea, they were absolutely clueless. My smiles really duped them. People only believe what they want to see. They were so glad I’d come out of my armor. They truly supposed I was improving. They skirted the issue of the past few months; oh, hell, they never brought the subject up. They didn’t want to be accountable for spoiling my good mood, for reminding my of my fall from grace. The collapse of my sense of worth. My plummet in to the pit of despair. We were all having a good time, let’s not drudge the bottom of the barrel, where all the slime of human emotions had settled. If they had only thought to interrogate me, to be my counselors. Who was I fooling, that wouldn’t have changed a thing. I needed professional help, clumsy efforts by untrained laymen would have been ineffectual, maybe even more damaging. Is anything more damaging than self destruction? As they left to go their separate ways I presented them with mementos, further reducing the clutter from my domicile. Once again, no questions were asked. Not a hair of suspicion rose. Totally oblivious. What idiots.
Finally I wrote letters, enclosed some checks to evacuate my bank account, and set them in a visible location. I didn't really feel an explanation was necessary, but I suppose it was protocol to leave a final missive for closure. What a word. Closure. My closure would be in a coffin. Buried in the cold earth. Put me out of my misery. I wouldn't get to witness their shock when I laid my feelings bare and accused them for not being there for me. The best part though is I also wouldn't have to put up with their retaliations! I just hope they would grieve for a respectable amount of time. Don’t throw dirt on top of me and go eat. How morbid. Meals planned for the grieving family. So grotesque. Who cares if they eat, while I rot in the grave? They socialize while the skin rots off my body. Beautiful.
My last duty to execute was a fare well call to my mother. I wanted to hear her voice one last time. Of course I wouldn't divulge my intentions. I would talk to her for an hour or so them proceed with the final execution of my objectives. When she found out what had happened to me it would hit her hard, she would try to figure out what she could have done to stop me. She wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Desperation as deep seated as mine couldn’t be easily alleviated. (And I called my daughters self absorbed!) That was sad but unavoidable. It would be explained in the letter with her name on it and the biggest check.
I let the phone ring several times, and several times more. No answer. What luck. The day I decided to die and my mom couldn’t be home to talk to me. That spoiled my frame of mind. How could she be so inconsiderate as to be absent from home when I needed one last conversation.
Well. So much for that. I leaned back in my lazy boy and poured me a good stiff drink then reached for my antidepressants. Alcohol and drugs. A bad combo. I had a couple of months supply on hand. A little booze, a hand full of pills. It would be over shortly. I would be found lying comfortably, stiff as a concrete statue. Dressed up. Make up on. Apartment spotless. Mostly because I’d given so much away. Easy for my survivors to clean up.
"Well, here’s to you God." I lifted my glass in a toast. "If you have a better plan for me, speak up now or forever hold your peace!"
Ring. Ring. Ring. Oh, great. I leaned over to view the caller ID and nearly choked on my drink. I almost swallowed my tongue. I didn’t need the pills now. Just the booze. The caller ID identified the caller as "Jesus Christ the Redeemer!" I felt a massive heart attack coming on. I tentatively picked up the receiver.
"Hello." I answered, shakily, awkwardly. How does one greet Jesus on the phone. I’m sure he’s aware I have caller ID.
"You called?" A deep voice questioned. "This is Jesus Christ the rede-"
"Oh, Jesus!" I exclaimed, talk about getting answers!
"My name is Jessie Chr-"
I cut the lord off as I started spilling my guts. There wasn’t a moment to waste. I did all the talking. Crying. Opening up. Divulging things I’d only thought. Apologizing for being redundant, as I’m sure he’d heard it all before. I mean, really heard it all before, from me, in my prayers. I was totally awestruck. I didn’t know he made personal calls. What provider did he use, AT&T. South western Bell? Verizon? Who set lines up to heaven. Satellites? Who billed the Lord of the universe? What did he use for currency?
Jesus listened without interrupting as I poured out my heart. He was very familiar with a bleeding heart. He could fully identify with me. He let me empty my emotions at his feet….er….ear. It was so cathartic. Just to have someone listen, not hang up, not offer ridiculous clichés.
"Where did you get the pills from?" The lord asked, eventually, as I wound down my narrative with my expectations to see him soon. I was exhausted, spiritually depleted.
Surprised he didn’t already know, I told of my visit to the doctor who diagnosed my depression and provided the prescription. I was too humiliated to use them, how could I be a good Christian and use meds to elevate my mood? He had blabbered some nonsense about neural chemicals, serotonin depletion, that had gone over my head. It filled me with disgrace to rely on medicines while I worshiped God. Praising God should be medicinal enough! It didn’t however shame me to decide my life wasn’t worth living. To take matters in to my own hands. Incongruous thinking. There is no reasoning with mental illness, feelings of absolute failure, lack of control.
"Nonsense," the voice at the other end of the universe stated. "Just as insulin and thyroid hormones decline in later years so can brain chemicals. It is no dishonor to God to replace natural chemicals with appropriate medications. After all, he created you, and the scientists who heal. By your reasoning every diabetic is a worthless sinner and failure." That was a heavy thought. I did know some that statement was true of, however.
After a long conversation with the voice from the third dimension, where I actually granted him time to talk, I finally agreed to try the medicine as it was prescribed. To give it a chance. What could it hurt? I promised to return to church. To renew my relationship with God. To accept his love and forgiveness, To let him decide when to call me home. In my overwhelming misery I had closed myself off from the world and those who could be useful to me; my spiritual brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers.
\
After saying my goodbyes I collapsed back in my chair in absolute shock.
Meanwhile, Jessie Chrysalis, the pastor of Jesus Christ the Redeemer Baptist Church hung up his phone equally bowled over. He had just been about to close his office for the night when the phone had rung, incessantly. He almost didn’t return the call because of the lateness of the hour but something had nudged him on….
And my mother? She’d been home the whole night, I had misdialed her number. But I would never know that. And I would never tell anyone about my conversation with Jesus himself, but you’re invited to have your own. He’s accessible to us all.
Now that my plans had changed drastically from short term to long term I had a few things to deal with. First, I had to tear up the letters and checks, before they fell into the wrong hands.( If I was going to live, I needed money.) Second, looking about my nearly bare apartment I wondered what I'd do with so few possessions. I guess now that I'm so unencumbered I can finally join the mission field!
Proverbs 11:14
Psalm 31:2
Psalm 34:18
Isaiah 61:1
Jonah 2:2
Math 5:4
Rom. 8:38
2 Cor. 1:3-5
Depression:
Signs of clinical depression include:
Feelings of hopelessness, helplessness, and/or worthlessness
Insomnia or excessive sleeping
Significant appetite loss or gain
Decreased interest or pleasure in previously enjoyable activities
Themes of death in artwork, poetry and/or conversation
Previous Attempts:
4 out of 5 who actually commit suicide have tried to do so at least once previously.
Significant Loss:
Any real or perceived loss such as a relationship breakup, loss of status/prestige, death, or physical impairment.
Alcohol or Other Drug Abuse:
If a person cannot say "No" to a drug or control the amount used, there is a substance abuse problem.
Suicide Plan:
The more specific the plan, the more serious the intent.
Giving Possessions Away.
Talking About Suicide: This may be stated directly--"I'm going to kill myself." Or indirectly-- "You would be better off without me," or, "Soon you won't have to worry about me anymore."
Once I developed a plan my spirits lightened. Nothing like being in control, having a goal. I meticulously carried out my strategy. With each accomplishment came more resolve. A no turning back agreement with myself. My soul felt like it had been wrapped in a dark blanket and stuffed in a small airless closet. A mood of complete despair and hopelessness permeated my very core…till I cultivated my plan. I watered it daily and bit by bit it grew.
I started with my possessions. I had too many. I wouldn’t be able to use them much longer, or enjoy in them. No sense in letting them go to waste, so….my clothes went first, in jaunts to my daughters. They however considered my wardrobe too dowdy for their tastes so the majority of my garments made it to Goodwill, where people needier than I could take pleasure in them at a price more reasonable than what I paid for them.
Now my jewelry. That was different subject. The quarreling over who deserved what piece the most was pathetic. It would have been nice if they had questioned why I decided I would no longer need diamonds, they were so self absorbed. I had never let them borrow them in the past, now I was putting them up for grabs! After all, diamonds fit into every time period. One can never say, "Oh, that stone has been out of style for centuries now." Is it no wonder with kids like mine that I’m despondent? No, I can’t blame it all on them. Good try through. I drove away from their homes with tears filling the floorboards, making my car a portable bathtub. I would miss them. Unbelievable.
Next I invited my friends over for a get together. One last visit to remember me by. They were all glad to hear I was feeling better. They had stopped including me in things I had enjoyed doing with them months ago, I would either not show up or appear with red swollen eyes, looking pathetic, a real party downer. They hadn’t seen me dressed up in a while. Groomed. Make up on. Laughing. If they only knew. If they could only see inside me. They had no idea, they were absolutely clueless. My smiles really duped them. People only believe what they want to see. They were so glad I’d come out of my armor. They truly supposed I was improving. They skirted the issue of the past few months; oh, hell, they never brought the subject up. They didn’t want to be accountable for spoiling my good mood, for reminding my of my fall from grace. The collapse of my sense of worth. My plummet in to the pit of despair. We were all having a good time, let’s not drudge the bottom of the barrel, where all the slime of human emotions had settled. If they had only thought to interrogate me, to be my counselors. Who was I fooling, that wouldn’t have changed a thing. I needed professional help, clumsy efforts by untrained laymen would have been ineffectual, maybe even more damaging. Is anything more damaging than self destruction? As they left to go their separate ways I presented them with mementos, further reducing the clutter from my domicile. Once again, no questions were asked. Not a hair of suspicion rose. Totally oblivious. What idiots.
Finally I wrote letters, enclosed some checks to evacuate my bank account, and set them in a visible location. I didn't really feel an explanation was necessary, but I suppose it was protocol to leave a final missive for closure. What a word. Closure. My closure would be in a coffin. Buried in the cold earth. Put me out of my misery. I wouldn't get to witness their shock when I laid my feelings bare and accused them for not being there for me. The best part though is I also wouldn't have to put up with their retaliations! I just hope they would grieve for a respectable amount of time. Don’t throw dirt on top of me and go eat. How morbid. Meals planned for the grieving family. So grotesque. Who cares if they eat, while I rot in the grave? They socialize while the skin rots off my body. Beautiful.
My last duty to execute was a fare well call to my mother. I wanted to hear her voice one last time. Of course I wouldn't divulge my intentions. I would talk to her for an hour or so them proceed with the final execution of my objectives. When she found out what had happened to me it would hit her hard, she would try to figure out what she could have done to stop me. She wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Desperation as deep seated as mine couldn’t be easily alleviated. (And I called my daughters self absorbed!) That was sad but unavoidable. It would be explained in the letter with her name on it and the biggest check.
I let the phone ring several times, and several times more. No answer. What luck. The day I decided to die and my mom couldn’t be home to talk to me. That spoiled my frame of mind. How could she be so inconsiderate as to be absent from home when I needed one last conversation.
Well. So much for that. I leaned back in my lazy boy and poured me a good stiff drink then reached for my antidepressants. Alcohol and drugs. A bad combo. I had a couple of months supply on hand. A little booze, a hand full of pills. It would be over shortly. I would be found lying comfortably, stiff as a concrete statue. Dressed up. Make up on. Apartment spotless. Mostly because I’d given so much away. Easy for my survivors to clean up.
"Well, here’s to you God." I lifted my glass in a toast. "If you have a better plan for me, speak up now or forever hold your peace!"
Ring. Ring. Ring. Oh, great. I leaned over to view the caller ID and nearly choked on my drink. I almost swallowed my tongue. I didn’t need the pills now. Just the booze. The caller ID identified the caller as "Jesus Christ the Redeemer!" I felt a massive heart attack coming on. I tentatively picked up the receiver.
"Hello." I answered, shakily, awkwardly. How does one greet Jesus on the phone. I’m sure he’s aware I have caller ID.
"You called?" A deep voice questioned. "This is Jesus Christ the rede-"
"Oh, Jesus!" I exclaimed, talk about getting answers!
"My name is Jessie Chr-"
I cut the lord off as I started spilling my guts. There wasn’t a moment to waste. I did all the talking. Crying. Opening up. Divulging things I’d only thought. Apologizing for being redundant, as I’m sure he’d heard it all before. I mean, really heard it all before, from me, in my prayers. I was totally awestruck. I didn’t know he made personal calls. What provider did he use, AT&T. South western Bell? Verizon? Who set lines up to heaven. Satellites? Who billed the Lord of the universe? What did he use for currency?
Jesus listened without interrupting as I poured out my heart. He was very familiar with a bleeding heart. He could fully identify with me. He let me empty my emotions at his feet….er….ear. It was so cathartic. Just to have someone listen, not hang up, not offer ridiculous clichés.
"Where did you get the pills from?" The lord asked, eventually, as I wound down my narrative with my expectations to see him soon. I was exhausted, spiritually depleted.
Surprised he didn’t already know, I told of my visit to the doctor who diagnosed my depression and provided the prescription. I was too humiliated to use them, how could I be a good Christian and use meds to elevate my mood? He had blabbered some nonsense about neural chemicals, serotonin depletion, that had gone over my head. It filled me with disgrace to rely on medicines while I worshiped God. Praising God should be medicinal enough! It didn’t however shame me to decide my life wasn’t worth living. To take matters in to my own hands. Incongruous thinking. There is no reasoning with mental illness, feelings of absolute failure, lack of control.
"Nonsense," the voice at the other end of the universe stated. "Just as insulin and thyroid hormones decline in later years so can brain chemicals. It is no dishonor to God to replace natural chemicals with appropriate medications. After all, he created you, and the scientists who heal. By your reasoning every diabetic is a worthless sinner and failure." That was a heavy thought. I did know some that statement was true of, however.
After a long conversation with the voice from the third dimension, where I actually granted him time to talk, I finally agreed to try the medicine as it was prescribed. To give it a chance. What could it hurt? I promised to return to church. To renew my relationship with God. To accept his love and forgiveness, To let him decide when to call me home. In my overwhelming misery I had closed myself off from the world and those who could be useful to me; my spiritual brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers.
\
After saying my goodbyes I collapsed back in my chair in absolute shock.
Meanwhile, Jessie Chrysalis, the pastor of Jesus Christ the Redeemer Baptist Church hung up his phone equally bowled over. He had just been about to close his office for the night when the phone had rung, incessantly. He almost didn’t return the call because of the lateness of the hour but something had nudged him on….
And my mother? She’d been home the whole night, I had misdialed her number. But I would never know that. And I would never tell anyone about my conversation with Jesus himself, but you’re invited to have your own. He’s accessible to us all.
Now that my plans had changed drastically from short term to long term I had a few things to deal with. First, I had to tear up the letters and checks, before they fell into the wrong hands.( If I was going to live, I needed money.) Second, looking about my nearly bare apartment I wondered what I'd do with so few possessions. I guess now that I'm so unencumbered I can finally join the mission field!
Proverbs 11:14
Psalm 31:2
Psalm 34:18
Isaiah 61:1
Jonah 2:2
Math 5:4
Rom. 8:38
2 Cor. 1:3-5
Depression:
Signs of clinical depression include:
Feelings of hopelessness, helplessness, and/or worthlessness
Insomnia or excessive sleeping
Significant appetite loss or gain
Decreased interest or pleasure in previously enjoyable activities
Themes of death in artwork, poetry and/or conversation
Previous Attempts:
4 out of 5 who actually commit suicide have tried to do so at least once previously.
Significant Loss:
Any real or perceived loss such as a relationship breakup, loss of status/prestige, death, or physical impairment.
Alcohol or Other Drug Abuse:
If a person cannot say "No" to a drug or control the amount used, there is a substance abuse problem.
Suicide Plan:
The more specific the plan, the more serious the intent.
Giving Possessions Away.
Talking About Suicide: This may be stated directly--"I'm going to kill myself." Or indirectly-- "You would be better off without me," or, "Soon you won't have to worry about me anymore."
Icy Weather
Icy weather
Inch by inch, foot by foot, little by little, that is how the traffic was flowing. I could see cars way up ahead when we rounded the curves. All were going slow and cautiously over the icy thorough fare. At least we weren’t in this frozen world alone but I was getting close to a panic attack. Not being alone didn’t mean we’d all come out of this alive! My sweet naïve daughter, Cindy was sitting next to me doing her thing, listening to her I-pod and scratching our terrier’s, Scruffy’s, ear. I wish they would join me in worrying. Misery loves company. Sleet was falling and forming an arc on my windshield out of reach of the windshield wipers, taunting them! The side and back windows were covered in layers of crystals that waging war with my heater. I wish I had listened to my instinct and left for my parent’s house yesterday. Oh, in Texas the weather man is never right! Sure this is the one time he had to be accurate.
Every so often Cindy would ask, “Are we there yet?” just to try my fortitude.
My muscles were tensing as I tried to stay on the two clearer paths of asphalt made by all the cars in the procession. It’s best to stay on the straight an narrow, as someone up ahead just discovered. I don’t know what she was planning but I’m sure it back fired because her vehicle spun around, turned sideways and completely blocked the slender road. There was no way we could pass her or back up and turn about. We were in a freezing pickle.
“Hey, mom, that lady must be related to you!” Cindy, always looking for an opportunity to remind me of how “careful” a driver I am, spouted off. Scruffy looked up expecting a fight and prepared to make peace with his soulful eyes.
We weren’t going fast enough to come to a screeching halt, thank heavens, but the cars behind me all stopped. Car doors opened, people disembarked, and soon the wretched driver up ahead was assaulted with a discontented crowd. They encircled her. Was there going to be a riot?
I joined the lynching mob and suavely suggested that assisting the damsel in distress be energy better spent before the trail ahead vanished. As men, and some rugged looking women that could pass as men, got together to work on the project some one groused of being hungry and some one else whined of thirst. With in minutes a banquet was served up in a couple of mini vans. We all merged our supplies, candy bars, half eaten sandwiches, chips, fritos, bean dips, donuts, mints, sodas, thermoses of hot cocoa, coffee and tea, you know, traveling snacks. We ended up one happy family on a sugar and caffeine high before the car ahead was realigned with the road and primed for travel again. Now, as I drove I shook from bad nutrition instead of tense muscles.
It took 2 hours longer than usual to reach my cut off and as I steered off the well traveled road cars behind me tooted their fare wells. With good reason, no signs of live appeared before me. I was on unexplored terrain now. No tire trails to trace. Not a clue where patches of ice would pop up. No one to rally round if I got into trouble. Scruffy looked over his shoulders into the back seat and barked. I glanced in the rear view mirror and frowned. That dog was a curious thing. I wish I had his eyes.
Night descended like a shroud jangling my nerves. Normally this was a familiar trip. A safe haven. Home land. In the dark, with sleet and snow blowing about at 35 miles an hour the once identifiable area seemed peculiarly deadly. What’s worse, my gas gauge was reading low nor was my cell getting any reception in this weather.
I pulled over to recoup a plan. It might be better to stay here and wait for the morning. We had blankets, flashlights, a first aide kit, water, emergency clothes, and flares in the trunk. Survival planning. We could huddle together for warmth, if only I could convince my emancipated teenager that was the best thing to do, as it was hard to get even a good night kiss from her anymore. Scruffy wouldn’t be a problem, he loved togetherness. Right now he was trying to get my attention.
“What!” I barked at him as he attacked my face again with his wet nose and tongue and pointed to the view in front of us. I looked out what little window was clear to see where the wind had blown a clear path in front of me. All the falling precipitation was abnormally pushed to the side so I could catch a glimpse of ….what is that? A building? There isn’t anything like that around here. Then the draft altered and falling snow and sleet blocked my view again.
“Cindy, I’m going to see what’s out there, wait here.” I explained, climbing out with my flashlight. The useless light just bounced back at me off the white curtain of sleet blinding me.
I trudged through mush, pulling my coat collar tight against my neck as the blizzard that pelted my face found it’s way down my neckline. I was barely keeping my balance on the precarious surface when my flashlight hit red eyes gawking out at me from the dark. Wolves! Several wolves! Several hungry looking wolves! I stepped back once, twice…..Something flew past me. Scruffy! Oh my gosh. The wolves exposed their fangs and charged. Scruffy! Two of the beasts lunged into the air and fell backwards. It was like someone snatched their tails in mid flight. Scruffy pranced around them, yapping, doing a victory dance. A third wolf attempted a leap, looked at Scruffy,(or past him?) and bolted away, trailed by his two whimpering friends.
Cindy came running up. “Mom, I’m sorry. The door opened some how and he got out!”
I should scold her but somehow I felt alive. Something I took for granted a moment ago. Scruffy yelped at us. “Don’t just stand there, follow me!” At least that’s what it sounded like and I was I no mood to argue with him, no telling what he’d do to me if he could tackle vicious wolves. We traipsed after him as he led us to a wood building beside a mountain. Where did this come from? I grew up here so this must be real new. I pounded on the door, but I don’t’ know why; there were no lights. One thing was sure, I wasn’t going backtracking past the wolf pack. I turned the door knob. What a fool. Like I thought it was going to be….unlocked? The door opened.
Inside was a one room cabin with three comfy looking beds against one wall, a table with three chairs against a wall formed by the mountain behind it, a cabinet with three plates against a third wall and a fireplace against the last wall. I backed up and looked over the door way, expecting to see a sign, “ Home of the Three Bears!” Oh heck, this was obviously the cabin of a week end hunter.
“Mom, don’t get weird on me now!” Cindy pleaded, teeth chattering against each other. “Make a fire! Quick!” She pointed to the stack of wood nearby; a book of matches rested conveniently on top.
After a nice blaze got going we located some can goods and dined on spam and beans heated over a open fire. My beans got too hot and burned my tongue. Cindy didn’t get her beans warm enough and reheated them. Scruffy was satisfied with anything fit to be eaten. We topped our buffet off with pop tarts, I checked the expiration date, they were just right, but I would have eaten them anyway. Next, Cindy and I tried out the beds. One was too soft for me, the other to hard for her, we switched. Scruffy, couldn’t care less. He would transfer himself between us through out the night, crawling under the downy coverlets to our feet. Before I fell dead to the world I went to the entry and jammed it with one of the chairs. I wasn’t taking any chances that daddy, mommy, and baby bear be standing over us at dawn.
The next morning we stirred to a different world. The storm had passed and the earth was gone. Just mounds of white fluff mixed with sleet layered the known globe. It was hard to reconcile the peacefulness with the gale from the previous evening.
Cindy and I stretched, bundled up and returned to the car to find a unforeseen audience. People were milling about my car, amazed and concerned. Rescue teams, a tow truck and ambulance, had assembled. I had parked on a lake! Cracks were spreading out from the wheels and water was seeping up to the surface. I watched in horror as my Chrysler started to sink downwards. The tow truck, parked on rock-hard land, moved outwards with chains attached to my car slowly and cautiously pulling my auto to solid ground. A cheer went up as rescuers raced to save the entombed occupants, who, unknown to them, were walking up behind them! If we had stayed overnight in the car our weight would have submerged it sooner, especially if I had kept the heater running awhile to thaw the ice below us! We would have been TV dinners for fish, provided they had a microwave to heat our frozen torsos up!
“Mom, this is far out, even for you!” Cindy casually informed me. Then realization dawned on her, "You left me parked in a car on thin ice!"
"You're a teenager, you live on thin ice!" I retorted.
My parents, who had requested the search effort when we didn‘t arrive last night, were the first to detect we were on the outskirts of the little get-together. Of course, my mom wasn’t noiseless in her expression of relief and surprise. Everyone turned to stare at us, then paramedics descended on us for inspection, checking us for signs of over exposure, frost bite, shock ect. We were perfectly hale and hearty.
I kept reassuring them we spent the night safely in a little shack up the mountainside. Seasoned hunters to the area basically called us liars. “There’s nothing in them hills but bear caves!”
That’s were the wild life hibernated through winter. No one, absolutely no one, knew of any shack up there. Before I could open my mouth to refute their claims, Cindy elbowed me. It was best to just keep our mouths shut. Sometimes my daughter is smarter than me.
Way up above, our guardian angles watched, amused.
“Dude, you read to many fairy tales! The three bears! Come on!”
“Listen you old blow hard, I like a little intrigue. The bear thing makes their story more colorful when we file our report.“
“Lucky for those girls I am a blow hard, you couldn’t blow hard enough to clear a path for a mouse to find cheese!”
Scruffy looked up and barked his thanks to his friends for stopping the wolves in their tracks as the two winged heroes waved back and headed home. Scruffy knew he’d be treated with more respect now that his masters had witnessed him single handedly (er.. single pawed) thwarting the bad intentions of three not so now ferocious wolves.
1 Kings 19:5-9
Psalm 34:7
Math 7:13-14
Inch by inch, foot by foot, little by little, that is how the traffic was flowing. I could see cars way up ahead when we rounded the curves. All were going slow and cautiously over the icy thorough fare. At least we weren’t in this frozen world alone but I was getting close to a panic attack. Not being alone didn’t mean we’d all come out of this alive! My sweet naïve daughter, Cindy was sitting next to me doing her thing, listening to her I-pod and scratching our terrier’s, Scruffy’s, ear. I wish they would join me in worrying. Misery loves company. Sleet was falling and forming an arc on my windshield out of reach of the windshield wipers, taunting them! The side and back windows were covered in layers of crystals that waging war with my heater. I wish I had listened to my instinct and left for my parent’s house yesterday. Oh, in Texas the weather man is never right! Sure this is the one time he had to be accurate.
Every so often Cindy would ask, “Are we there yet?” just to try my fortitude.
My muscles were tensing as I tried to stay on the two clearer paths of asphalt made by all the cars in the procession. It’s best to stay on the straight an narrow, as someone up ahead just discovered. I don’t know what she was planning but I’m sure it back fired because her vehicle spun around, turned sideways and completely blocked the slender road. There was no way we could pass her or back up and turn about. We were in a freezing pickle.
“Hey, mom, that lady must be related to you!” Cindy, always looking for an opportunity to remind me of how “careful” a driver I am, spouted off. Scruffy looked up expecting a fight and prepared to make peace with his soulful eyes.
We weren’t going fast enough to come to a screeching halt, thank heavens, but the cars behind me all stopped. Car doors opened, people disembarked, and soon the wretched driver up ahead was assaulted with a discontented crowd. They encircled her. Was there going to be a riot?
I joined the lynching mob and suavely suggested that assisting the damsel in distress be energy better spent before the trail ahead vanished. As men, and some rugged looking women that could pass as men, got together to work on the project some one groused of being hungry and some one else whined of thirst. With in minutes a banquet was served up in a couple of mini vans. We all merged our supplies, candy bars, half eaten sandwiches, chips, fritos, bean dips, donuts, mints, sodas, thermoses of hot cocoa, coffee and tea, you know, traveling snacks. We ended up one happy family on a sugar and caffeine high before the car ahead was realigned with the road and primed for travel again. Now, as I drove I shook from bad nutrition instead of tense muscles.
It took 2 hours longer than usual to reach my cut off and as I steered off the well traveled road cars behind me tooted their fare wells. With good reason, no signs of live appeared before me. I was on unexplored terrain now. No tire trails to trace. Not a clue where patches of ice would pop up. No one to rally round if I got into trouble. Scruffy looked over his shoulders into the back seat and barked. I glanced in the rear view mirror and frowned. That dog was a curious thing. I wish I had his eyes.
Night descended like a shroud jangling my nerves. Normally this was a familiar trip. A safe haven. Home land. In the dark, with sleet and snow blowing about at 35 miles an hour the once identifiable area seemed peculiarly deadly. What’s worse, my gas gauge was reading low nor was my cell getting any reception in this weather.
I pulled over to recoup a plan. It might be better to stay here and wait for the morning. We had blankets, flashlights, a first aide kit, water, emergency clothes, and flares in the trunk. Survival planning. We could huddle together for warmth, if only I could convince my emancipated teenager that was the best thing to do, as it was hard to get even a good night kiss from her anymore. Scruffy wouldn’t be a problem, he loved togetherness. Right now he was trying to get my attention.
“What!” I barked at him as he attacked my face again with his wet nose and tongue and pointed to the view in front of us. I looked out what little window was clear to see where the wind had blown a clear path in front of me. All the falling precipitation was abnormally pushed to the side so I could catch a glimpse of ….what is that? A building? There isn’t anything like that around here. Then the draft altered and falling snow and sleet blocked my view again.
“Cindy, I’m going to see what’s out there, wait here.” I explained, climbing out with my flashlight. The useless light just bounced back at me off the white curtain of sleet blinding me.
I trudged through mush, pulling my coat collar tight against my neck as the blizzard that pelted my face found it’s way down my neckline. I was barely keeping my balance on the precarious surface when my flashlight hit red eyes gawking out at me from the dark. Wolves! Several wolves! Several hungry looking wolves! I stepped back once, twice…..Something flew past me. Scruffy! Oh my gosh. The wolves exposed their fangs and charged. Scruffy! Two of the beasts lunged into the air and fell backwards. It was like someone snatched their tails in mid flight. Scruffy pranced around them, yapping, doing a victory dance. A third wolf attempted a leap, looked at Scruffy,(or past him?) and bolted away, trailed by his two whimpering friends.
Cindy came running up. “Mom, I’m sorry. The door opened some how and he got out!”
I should scold her but somehow I felt alive. Something I took for granted a moment ago. Scruffy yelped at us. “Don’t just stand there, follow me!” At least that’s what it sounded like and I was I no mood to argue with him, no telling what he’d do to me if he could tackle vicious wolves. We traipsed after him as he led us to a wood building beside a mountain. Where did this come from? I grew up here so this must be real new. I pounded on the door, but I don’t’ know why; there were no lights. One thing was sure, I wasn’t going backtracking past the wolf pack. I turned the door knob. What a fool. Like I thought it was going to be….unlocked? The door opened.
Inside was a one room cabin with three comfy looking beds against one wall, a table with three chairs against a wall formed by the mountain behind it, a cabinet with three plates against a third wall and a fireplace against the last wall. I backed up and looked over the door way, expecting to see a sign, “ Home of the Three Bears!” Oh heck, this was obviously the cabin of a week end hunter.
“Mom, don’t get weird on me now!” Cindy pleaded, teeth chattering against each other. “Make a fire! Quick!” She pointed to the stack of wood nearby; a book of matches rested conveniently on top.
After a nice blaze got going we located some can goods and dined on spam and beans heated over a open fire. My beans got too hot and burned my tongue. Cindy didn’t get her beans warm enough and reheated them. Scruffy was satisfied with anything fit to be eaten. We topped our buffet off with pop tarts, I checked the expiration date, they were just right, but I would have eaten them anyway. Next, Cindy and I tried out the beds. One was too soft for me, the other to hard for her, we switched. Scruffy, couldn’t care less. He would transfer himself between us through out the night, crawling under the downy coverlets to our feet. Before I fell dead to the world I went to the entry and jammed it with one of the chairs. I wasn’t taking any chances that daddy, mommy, and baby bear be standing over us at dawn.
The next morning we stirred to a different world. The storm had passed and the earth was gone. Just mounds of white fluff mixed with sleet layered the known globe. It was hard to reconcile the peacefulness with the gale from the previous evening.
Cindy and I stretched, bundled up and returned to the car to find a unforeseen audience. People were milling about my car, amazed and concerned. Rescue teams, a tow truck and ambulance, had assembled. I had parked on a lake! Cracks were spreading out from the wheels and water was seeping up to the surface. I watched in horror as my Chrysler started to sink downwards. The tow truck, parked on rock-hard land, moved outwards with chains attached to my car slowly and cautiously pulling my auto to solid ground. A cheer went up as rescuers raced to save the entombed occupants, who, unknown to them, were walking up behind them! If we had stayed overnight in the car our weight would have submerged it sooner, especially if I had kept the heater running awhile to thaw the ice below us! We would have been TV dinners for fish, provided they had a microwave to heat our frozen torsos up!
“Mom, this is far out, even for you!” Cindy casually informed me. Then realization dawned on her, "You left me parked in a car on thin ice!"
"You're a teenager, you live on thin ice!" I retorted.
My parents, who had requested the search effort when we didn‘t arrive last night, were the first to detect we were on the outskirts of the little get-together. Of course, my mom wasn’t noiseless in her expression of relief and surprise. Everyone turned to stare at us, then paramedics descended on us for inspection, checking us for signs of over exposure, frost bite, shock ect. We were perfectly hale and hearty.
I kept reassuring them we spent the night safely in a little shack up the mountainside. Seasoned hunters to the area basically called us liars. “There’s nothing in them hills but bear caves!”
That’s were the wild life hibernated through winter. No one, absolutely no one, knew of any shack up there. Before I could open my mouth to refute their claims, Cindy elbowed me. It was best to just keep our mouths shut. Sometimes my daughter is smarter than me.
Way up above, our guardian angles watched, amused.
“Dude, you read to many fairy tales! The three bears! Come on!”
“Listen you old blow hard, I like a little intrigue. The bear thing makes their story more colorful when we file our report.“
“Lucky for those girls I am a blow hard, you couldn’t blow hard enough to clear a path for a mouse to find cheese!”
Scruffy looked up and barked his thanks to his friends for stopping the wolves in their tracks as the two winged heroes waved back and headed home. Scruffy knew he’d be treated with more respect now that his masters had witnessed him single handedly (er.. single pawed) thwarting the bad intentions of three not so now ferocious wolves.
1 Kings 19:5-9
Psalm 34:7
Math 7:13-14
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