THE BEAST

Man, being cooped up all winter long with a two year old is not my idea of fun. I’m so glad the snow has melted and I can get out of the house for a while. Junior was having a fantastic time as he explored the meadow while I just relaxed and enjoyed the balmy breezes and the fresh open air, provided free of charge by God. Well, I relaxed as much as I could while being vigilant of our surroundings. We lived miles from civilization but we had to be careful. We’d had friends living nearby for a while but they wanted to put even more separation between themselves and the encroaching suburbs and moved further out where they felt they could be closer to God. We might follow them soon.

Being as far out in the wilderness as we were anything could pop up on us from nowhere and occasionally did. Most of nature avoided us but there was still the occasional unbalanced creature that thought it might be an adventure to tangle with us.  We were pretty close to the top of the food chain, one scent of us and most of the forest animals scurried away. This was reassuring yet at the same time an inconvenience when we needed to hunt for food. This spring I was going to teach Junior to fish and track dinner, after all the things you learn while young stay with you for a long time. He was getting old enough to be useful and the forest creatures needed to be thinned since they were becoming so numerous that the regional food supply was diminishing endangering the ecosystem.

The birds in the trees above me went quiet. Not a good sign. That usually meant something uninvited was nearby. Darn and I was getting such pleasure from their God inspired songs. I looked about. Nothing. The wind blew from behind me so whatever was nearby was down wind. One scent of me and it would run. No need to worry. Junior trotted up and grabbed hold of my leg. I gave him some berries God planted nearby for us and wrapped a protective reassuring arm around him to diminish his concerns. Berries in his mouth gave him a sense of security. Why would I feed him if we were in danger? I needed him to stay calm. All I needed was to have to run in two directions, after an infant or towards danger, when I could just run with the infant away from danger.

Leaves rustled nearby. Whatever was coming was not worrying about being heard. And it certainly didn’t have a good sense of smell.  Remember I was cooped up all winter long in a home without running water, bathing wasn’t a priority. And what bathing I did do was in the stream nearby. We lived pretty frugally here in the wilderness. Close to God and nature. Leaves rustled, twigs snapped, birds in the trees scattered. What a careless creature this must be.  Junior started to shake while I consoled him. I was well prepared to attack, weapons in hand.  I motioned for him to take cover in some nearby bushes. The sounds stopped. Nothing.  I stretched up slowly, exploring the area behind the bushes.

Yikes! Eye to eye. Face to face. It was horrifying. The beast was just as frightened as I was and it smelled even more rank than we did which I hardly thought was possible. It was covered in bird droppings and dirt. It’s scant hair was awfully matted and its limbs were etched with minor scratches.  It needed a good dip in the river. 

 I stretched my arms high above my head and roared threats out of my mouth just as I had been taught in survival classes attempting to look as intimating as imaginable. Junior stiffened; the beast dropped the berries in its hand and fled in the opposite direction the same way it had come: without caution. I snatched Junior and went in the other opposite direction as speedily as I could.

Finally when I had put what I assumed was adequate distance between us and danger I stopped to catch my breath, thank God for our narrow escape and let Junior ramble. I sat down and heaved in fresh air as I let my lungs recover. What a fright. That could have ended badly. Wilderness is definitely not for the faint of heart or non-athletic.

Out of the blue I heard Junior cry, I had let my guard down and he had wandered out of sight, and apparently into trouble. I followed the sound of his wails till I came to the edge of a cliff and there he was, on another level than I was. Down below, just out of reach on another ledge he looked up at me, not appearing injured just badly shaken. He stopped bawling at the first glimpse of me convinced that I, his mother, could solve this dilemma. Well right now I was not sharing his optimism. I sprawled out on my surface area, belly to dirt, and reached down for him but of course, just as I thought, he was just out of reach no matter how strenuously I stretched. Looking upward I prayed, "God, I need some help here".

Oh no. Down below I could see the previously mentioned beast as it stomped through the forest in our direction, again. Where did it get its wilderness training from? You could hear it for miles, wasn’t it the least bit afraid of hunters? Well, at least it alerted me to the danger of its presence. I started making a racket, and lots of it to scare it away. No good. The hideous thing kept right on coming. It stopped at the base of what was now our cliff. It seemed to be evaluating the situation. Was it considering Junior as dinner? I paced back and forth on my upper level making as many threatening sounds as I could. It didn’t deter Beast, as it pulled itself up a few feet to another ledge where it could reach Junior. I was frantic as I faced every mother’s fear of losing a child.

The Beast was now on the same protuberance as Jun[or. I felt faint and wished I could close my eyes.  The thing and Junior struggled for a few seconds till Beast got a good hold of Junior’s body and then it—it lifted Junior up towards me. You could have knocked me over with a feather. Help from God had certainly come in and unexpectedly hideous  form.  I quickly grabbed Junior by the scruff of his neck and took off again before Beast ascended to our summit and had us both for dinner altering my present opinion of God's mediation.

Once again after I put what I thought was a safe expanse between me and danger I plopped down to catch my breath, and thank God again. I wish I was safely back home, but wishing doesn’t make things so. Now what’s that commotion?  I got up on a boulder and scanned the area below me. There was yet another beast screeching incomprehensibly into the air. What ever happened to stealth? From my vantage point I also saw beast number one stumbling around, tripping over rocks and tree roots,  about three miles due east of the second interloper into my space.  It now occurred to me that beast number one might perchance be lost and helpless, possibly even stupid. Great. In my territory. I sat down to think this mess through. It now occurred to me that Beast actually tried to help Junior. Oh, that’s impossible, as a rule those beast don’t help, but then….every rule has an exception.

Okay, I have to come up with a plan. If I am right and I don’t help Beast get home I’ll never get any peace not to mention I’m getting too old for all this running. And after all, one good turn deserves another.  I grabbed Junior and headed down hill towards Beast.  Once I came up behind it I started a hullabaloo of epic proportions getting Junior to join in with me. Beast started running in the correct direction:  away from us and towards beast number two, which it almost collided with as it rounded a smaller hill.

The two beasts seemed ecstatic to see each other, as I judged from their prolonged hugging. What emotional creatures. Then Beast number two took Beast’s hand and led her away. They kept going on and on through the trees, making a racket I could hear from here, further and further till they were mercifully out of my sight. Beast number two seemed to know where he was headed. Problem solved at last. Thank you God.

No, the problem wasn’t solved. These beasts know where I live now. They are expert hunters, okay, maybe not these two but some of their breed are. What if they divulged our existence to others? They’re the reason my friends are gone on to more isolated areas.

I scrutinized Junior and examined the facts. God had sent me a message in this lovely little get-together with the Beasts. It was time to move on. Junior deserved a chance to live to a ripe old age and that wouldn’t be likely the closer civilization came, and this encounter was close enough for me right now.  The only weapons I carry are my claws and tremendous weight, weapons used for contact defense:  to kill food to sustain our existence and protection. These creatures carry uncanny sticks that cause death from great distances, and, at times, for no apparent purpose. What an unfair advantage they have!

I got to my feet, all four, and nudged Junior ahead of me.  The birds had restarted singing now that the beasts with all their clamoring had left the region. As I enjoyed nature’s symphony, provided by God Almighty, I aimed Junior onward and sniffed the wind hoping to catch a familiar scent. I guess its time to  find my friends, endure their  “I told you so’s” and end the loneliness of another winter hibernating in a cold cave with just a two year old. I prayed out loud so Junior could learn good habits and know who to trust, "God just be my guide, wherever you lead I will go."

Tune: HE LEADETH ME, Meter: LM with Refrain
________________________________________
1. He leadeth me: O blessed thought!
O words with heavenly comfort fraught!
Whate'er I do, where'er I be,
still 'tis God's hand that leadeth me.

Refrain:
He leadeth me, he leadeth me,
by his own hand he leadeth me;
his faithful follower I would be,
for by his hand he leadeth me.

2. Sometimes mid scenes of deepest gloom,
sometimes where Eden's bowers bloom,
by waters still, o'er troubled sea,
still 'tis his hand that leadeth me.
(Refrain)

3. Lord, I would place my hand in thine,
nor ever murmur nor repine;
content, whatever lot I see,
since 'tis my God that leadeth me.
(Refrain)

4. And when my task on earth is done,
when by thy grace the victory's won,
e'en death's cold wave I will not flee,
since God through Jordan leadeth me.
(Refrain)

 

 

 

 

THE RETREIVAL SYSTEM (dad's death)

THE RETREIVAL SYSTEM

Well, another day. The place was humming with activity, work, work, work. I had no assignment yet. Let me rephrase that, not having checked my in box I felt free to lean back in my chair and relax while sipping a wonderful locally made apple nectar. Ignorance is bliss.

Boss approached, slipped some paper into my in box that I now noticed was a third full, and gave me a casual look over. I had been busted. No words were exchanged but I still felt my cheeks tint to a convicting shade of pink. Boss was good at that, silently convicting people. It’s difficult working for the omniscient.

Apparently I was on pick up duty today. I read the first assignment, logged all the details to my magnificent memory and reached for my hat of choice for the day, an Oktoberfest Green Velour Tyrolean with a snazzy feather stuck in the braided hat band then I slipped on my loafers, loafers seemed appropriate as I'd gotten caught loafing.  Since my wardrobe is limited to a white robe I like to accessorize to express my individuality. I don’t do ordinary well.

As I got ready to stand I sensed the tension mount in the office. Coworkers started to protect their work spaces, fanning out their wings to cover loose paperwork and anything else not nailed down. I scowled at them, ever since I had caused a mini sized whirlwind a few weeks ago that rearranged everything in the office from filing cabinets to water cooler and everything in between they had isolated my work space to the farthest regions of the cloud. Come on, it’s not my fault I have such tremendously big and awesome wings! It is what it is. Definitely not my fault, I’m just the clay, not the potter. They had at the time plotted to trim my best asset to a more tolerable size and hung a pair of scissors by my desk as a reminder that the possibility of being downsized still existed.

I pulled my wings in close and slowly made my way through the wispy office walls, stunned with my own nimbleness. I didn't disturb anything, not one thing.  Work place bullying, that's what it is, I mused to myself. They're so jealous of my wings it hurts.

Before I made my trip downwards I headed to the heavenly scented activity room to invite a woman named Tessie to accompany me since she was a part of the details. I found her sitting in her more immediate family's section, chatting it up with ancestors she had just met mixed with those she had known and lost and refound. Reunions up here are a wonderful and a continuous event.  Once Tessie had passed all the admissions procedures; entering one of the pearly gates, passing Peter’s inspection to see if she was registered in the book of life, meeting Him  and receiving her crowns,  thousands of souls had lined up for miles for a meet and greet. She was their kin after all. All the way down to that first pair of humans…what were their names again?

I signaled Tessie over to my side and explained what was expected of her. She was never to leave my side and most importantly she wasn’t to interact in any way with those we would encounter down there, it was absolutely forbidden.

“But why am I going back?” Tessie asked, nervously fearing a mistake had been made and she was being returned to her earthly package.

“We have a pickup, someone you know.” I explained as I guided her to the takeoff platform.

“Oh, but it’s too soon,” she exclaimed.” I just got here; no one I know is ready to leave there yet, was there an accident of some sort?"

“Don’t bother yourself with the whys or where fore’s, It’s just time for someone you know.”

It was never easy to explain the time differences here since forever has no clocks, calendars sundials, or deadlines, actually we didn’t have anything dead up here. Suffice it to say she was wrong. Her father had said the exact same thing as she just did when he had been permitted to accompany her Retriever, that’s what we’re called on pick up duty, because we fetch. If you don’t get it now, you will later.

On the takeoff platform I gave Tessie a slight nudge with my wings holding back most of my enormous potential.  I didn’t want her to over shoot our destination and end up on the wrong planet, or in the wrong time zone. Being a good Retriever takes all kinds of talent and specialized training. So many little details.

The trip down was awesome and it could be hazardous, but not fatal, that risk was now long gone, sorry, once deceased always deceased; I didn’t say dead! Countless other Retrievers filled the air, together with their pickups and tag-alongs. Two lanes existed, one for coming and one for going, the incoming lane being more congested and wider. These lanes were filled with the lucky ones, the blessed, the redeemed. The not so fortunate, the damned, didn’t get a Retriever but were gathered somewhere else in a huge net and tossed into a horrible dark…I shuddered. The thought was too hideous even for me to complete.  Thinking about it even momentarily caused my large wings to quiver knocking some of the passing souls off their trail creating a domino effect and earning me glares from their Retrievers. Big wings, overcrowded air space, things happen, it’s not my fault. I didn’t ask for large wings.

Down on earth I pinpointed the exact location of my assignment without any difficulty, one of three area hospitals. Having been assigned to him since birth I had kept close tabs on him. I had visited him once in this same Emergency room years ago to provide comfort, wearing a cowboy hat and synthetic ostrich boots,  (after all he lived in Fort Worth near the Stock Yards), and now I was here to  visit him again, only this time to provide transportation home.  Many other Retrievers and tag-alongs were present for similar duties throughout the hospital and surrounding parameters.  Unfortunately, I winced; I also spotted some large nets. Shudder.

Tessie followed me into the curtain lined cubicle and curiously peered down at the man on the stretcher. He was older than she remembered his skin more fragile and bruised, his eyes were sunken and had that faraway look that comes on people when they are ready to shed the dirt and chemicals that make them human.  Yes time had changed him but she still knew him. Will, the man she had married and shared children with; the man that had cared for her through her life altering illness. Life altering, not life ending.

Tessie leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek leaving the scent of heaven in the air around him.

“What’s that smell?” Will asked his daughter who was sitting next to him.

“I don’t smell anything,” Daughter responded as she inhaled the air and looked into the eyes of the hospital personal caring for her dad. They shrugged, oblivious to any scents. They didn’t smell anything either. “’What do you think you smell?”

“Perfume.”  Will answered.

Tessie looked at me sheepishly, afraid she had stepped over the boundaries by interacting with Will.

“It’s okay, he’s almost one of us and his senses for our realm are getting sharper as he releases his hold on this world.”

“Are those my feet?" Will asked peering at the two dirty appendages sticking out from the flimsy white hospital sheet. He had been well cared for by Daughter yet having several pets around his house that constantly hid his slippers he could hardly keep his feet immaculate. He knew we were here. He was ashamed of his feet and didn’t want his bride of 30 years to see them.

“Yes dad, here let me clean them.” Daughter said as she washed his feet and pulled the sheets over them. Daughter then looked around the room. I know what she’s looking for, Tessie and me. This was part of the assignment, Daughter had prayed for years for this moment, to be near her dad when his time came so she could get a glimpse of her mom but to see into the other world was only allowed for those whose spirits were peeling away from their bodies.

Will’s time was near. He had been admitted to a private room and Daughter had gone home to get some sleep after being told that his condition was stable and the current treatment plan was going to be effective. According to the attending doctors he would recover from this relapse. Doctors, what do they know? Tessie and I accompanied Will to his room where we stayed all night providing succor. His body was weak and his spirit was ready to be liberated but we had to wait for his daughter’s return. She had prayed to be present at this moment for years and it was HIS plan to honor that request.  Details.

Daughter went to Sunday school the following morning and returned to the hospital at 11:00. She had time to open his blinds, chide him for lying in the dark, fluff his pillows and offer him a glass of water he requested. Then she sat next to him. Then….

Will laid his head on the pillow closed his eyes and slowly stopped breathing as Daughter watched, holding his hand.   A nurse entered the room and called a code blue. Daughter stopped her explaining he was a no DNR  (Do Not Resuscitate) as tears rolled down her cheeks. Once again she looked around for us, actually unknowingly meeting Tessie’s eyes. Tessie inhaled deeply. Her Daughter’s eyes held so much pain. Pain was something she couldn’t identify with anymore. It was a long past and faded memory.

Will sprang to his feet and stared at us. Surprised didn’t begin to define his reactions and I never would get used to the ecstasy expressed when the first day of forever was triumphantly realized. He reached for Tessie, swooped her into a massive hug then he jumped around the room flexing body parts that hadn’t moved in years while swirling Tessie around. Will’s Whooping and hollering mixed with Daughter’s wailing and moaning, total contradictions.   As she held Will’s inert physical  hand Daughter was deeply regretting the meaning of DNR, wishing she could reverse her decision as she looked around the room for signs of us. Not allowed, I reminded myself again, but she had been allowed the satisfaction of knowing we had been present when Dad smelled heaven. God sometimes answers in a small still voice, not in earthquakes or fires.

“Dad I love you,” Daughter wailed looking upwards. Engulfing her with my wings, which now didn't seem big enough,  I leaned over close to her ear and whispered, “He knows.” She didn’t hear as much as sensed my presence, yet the tears still poured forth. Will and Tessie couldn’t comprehend Daughter’s agony. Those emotions were deleted options in their new bodies celestial.

A rejuvenated Will, Tessie and I hit the air waves at 11:30 on Sunday, the day Christians revere as resurrection day, with several other Retrievers and their assignments. No baggage to hinder us. All necessities would be provided free of charge up stairs. Tonight people on earth would see heavenly phenomena they would explain away as shooting stars and comet showers.

Back in the office after I finished writing up and filing my report Boss ambled past my desk with another assignment. This time he found me honestly working, earning me a wink.

I picked up my new assignment and smiled. I logged all the details to my magnificent memory grabbed another flashy hat, slipped on some sandals and went in search of my next tag-along. I found him in the banquet hall with all the other souls waving palm leaves and glorifying the King.

Once I signaled him over to me I explained what was expected of him. He was never to leave my side and most importantly he wasn’t to interact in any way with those we would encounter  down there, it was absolutely forbidden.

“Oh, but it’s too soon,” Will exclaimed.” I just got here; no one I know is ready to leave there yet, was there an accident of some sort!”

No, Daughter had been waiting for this day for thirty earth years. Time just stands still up here for us in eternity.

1 kings 19:12

Math 8:12

Luke 16:22

Heb. 1:13-17

Rev. 7:9-17

Rev. 21:4

 Rev 21:27

When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we've first begun.

  

ancestors

  I looked intensely into the eyes of strangers in my stack of old black and white photos hoping to read the minds of the subjects.  These were photographs of people long gone. Long gone before I was born, heck, most had been gone before my parents were even born.  Yet here was proof that they had once lived, had breathed,  and had at one time stood or sat in front of a camera to preserve their images. These strangers were related to me,  making them relative strangers,  without their existence I wouldn’t be here, or at the least would be a very different person.

My Aunt Dot had given the pictures to me, when she had downsized her possessions to move to a retirement center because I was presently diving into the family history, trying to lengthen the family tree. I had started off with a seed, then a trunk, now I had a few branches. The search had begun because my dad wanted to find out about his great grandfather John, a civil war veteran who had fought for the north and died in 1876. Though we don’t have a picture of him Dad had had his sword once.  I remember it used to be kept in the hall closet, now it’s in my brother’s possession. However, I have the picture of my Great Great Granddad John’s, wife, Abigail, who died in 1910.

Dad and I had left Texas in the late 1990’s for a week and gone to their burial site in New England. Though the graveyard was well kept, Dad had surmised that no one had visited these particular relatives’ graves in decades. Some of their adult children were buried near them in unmarked graves because of financial limitations. How sad.  Once gone it’s not long before you’re forgotten. I was actually surprised the cemetery was still alive, excuse the pun. I had expected it to be some frowzy plot off the freeway run over with weeds and wild trees reserved for civil war burials but it was a tidy, growing necropolis. It had taken quite a bit of time to locate dear departed Grandparents John and  Abigail Pierce and family.

I looked again into the eyes of my great grandmother, Estelle.  I had some of her jewelry given to me by my aunt. I had worn one of her  simple diamond rings when dad and I had gone cemetery hopping up north. She was buried near her husband, Willard Pierce, who my dad was named after, son of the afore mentioned John  and some other relatives I had never met but whose pictures were part of my acquired stack of photos.  It was really erie to see my very much alive dad standing next to a tombstone with his name on it and date of death in 1935. Dad had hinted I take grandma Estelle’s diamond ring and bury it in the top soil over her grave so she could have it back. I ignored him as though he hadn’t uttered a word hoping he had been joking, but not convinced that was the case.

Then there was the picture of of a man I knew as—get  ready for this—my  grandma Pierce’s mother’s husband’s father, or Great Great Grand Daddy Thompson. It was an old faded photo taken in Belfast Ireland of a man wearing a leprechaun styled hat, a fringe of hair (that I imagined was red) outlining  his jaw, long sideburns and a very serious expression as though smiling would hurt more than child birth. The back of the photo discloses the name and address of the studio that captured his image on paper, or cardboard or whatever. I googled them to see if I could order more copies but they no longer exist. Imagine that. Business must not have been very good.

The reason I had gathered my dearly but not recently departed  family of strangers together on this day was so I could take them to the post office’s coping machine to reproduce them for my cousin, who I’ve never met face to face but have shared many phone calls comparing our genealogical research efforts. 

Once inside the post office I was badly shaken when I discovered Grand Daddy Thompson wasn’t with us anymore,(yes I know he’s been  dead for decades,  I mean his picture was gone!) I retraced my steps, several times, in my search for him. I even asked the postal workers , a few hours into the search, if he had come into their custody some how by a good Samaritan who might have found him lying around the parking lot, but no such luck. I had lost Great, Great grand daddy Thompson. After years and I do  mean years of being safely kept in the family archives he was now a missing person, er, a missing flat cardboard representation anyway . I only had my unreliable memory to remember him by and God only knew how long that would last.

I punished myself emotionally to the point of physical illness, over and over again for having been so undependable, afraid to ever face my aunt again. My Aunt Dot, by the way was now in the company of Grandmas Estelle and Abigail, and Grandpas John and Thompson , but as formidable as she was in life I still feared her reaction in the hereafter.  Was she sitting next to Great, Great Grand Daddy shaking her head and tsking me, saying “I know I should have know better, She’d loose her head if it wasn’t attached?”  I couldn’t even bring myself to disclose the truth to my father for dread of seeing  the disappointment in his eyes.

I emphatically believe in hauntings now because I was haunted for months with unprofitable notions on where the picture might have slipped, like for example into some odd crevice, or under some piece of furniture, or stuck behind one of the other pictures waiting to pop up and yell BOO.

Months later after I reconciled myself to the obvious, Grand Daddy Thompson was MIA, I had to make another rare stop at the post office, my first visit since my lamentable loss. Standing in line waiting to get to the service desk I occupied myself with mindless daydreaming to divert memories of my deplorable ineptitude preserving the family’s memorabilia given to me in sacred trust.

I looked at the line still ahead of me, at the clerks at work at the desk, and then my eyes drifted upwards to the shelves on the wall behind the workers. Without warning my right arm shot up, my index finger pointed out stiff and straight and a bellow erupted from my lips, “That’s my Grand Daddy Thompson!”

 I stood spell bound for a second hoping no one had noticed me. Not realistic, no way in hell had that eruption slipped by unnoticed, (excuse my language but that phrase captures the moment better than anything). Transactions halted while everyone present in the range of my vocalization stopped chattering and centered their attention on me, some even pulled young children closer for fear I might be dangerous. I slowly lowered my arm and tried to look just as curious as they were about who had screamed out like that. Nope. They knew it had been me.

Taking a deep breath and trying to recoup some dignity I explained that I had been looking for that picture for months. I was waved on to the head of the line where one of the clerks explained that and old lady had found the picture lying in the parking lot months ago on her way back to her car. When she brought it back in a week later one of the clerks remembered a panicky middle aged woman inquiring about so he and placed it on public display hoping she (I) would return to claim it. I explained the middle aged woman must have been my mother. Yeah, that was a flat out lie alright, since she also was with my Aunt Dot.

I was so unquestionably relieved to be reunited with Grand Daddy Thompson I forgot my business with the post office and rushed home to rejoin him with his family. 

Now what was the purpose of this story? Glad you asked. It struck me that someday in the future I dream of being in another line far, far away in different dimension. A line of people, uncountable in number,  now conquerors, flowing through a dozen gigantic pearl entrances all streaming towards a radiant figure greater than any super hero, sportsman or celebrity we’ve ever known, seated in an enormous throne grander than any  earthly king’s that has ever lived.  Another man I had been searching  for, but  who had actually found me when I was lost. A man whose picture I didn't possess but who  I would recognize without problem. At that time I will shoot out my right arm, point my index finger and bellow, “That’s Jesus, my Lord and Savior!” without being noticed by anyone else because we’ll all be unified in our outbursts of praise and gratitude.  And then, probably after fleeting millennia spent praising our Redeemer, I would hook up with the souls that had belonged to the pictures my Aunt Dot had entrusted to my care. And no, I would no longer be fearful of my Aunt’s formidableness. (I hope)