Wednesday Words: The Storm

The Perfect Storm Source

Last night’s violent thunder and lightning storm more than battered Theo’s barn.  The storm brought it to the ground, leaving broken timbers and shattered planks.

Theo and Ellen were silent, as he assessed all that had been lost.  His eyes widened as he realized the cost to rebuild and to begin again.  Credit?  That was stretched beyond his ability to repay.

“Maybe we could take up a collection from our families?  I know that…” Ellen suggested, hesitantly.

Theo hung his head, “No, no.  I can’t ask them, you know that.”  Then Theo realized with clarity what he could do, what he should do.  “I’ll be back.” He hugged Ellen tightly and then getting into his truck, Theo drove out onto the dirt road in a cloud of dust.

Where did he go?  What will he do? Any ideas? 

This week, River provided 6 or 12 words for bloggers to use as a writing prompt, to stir up the old brain cells.  Take the leap and see what you can create.  You could write it in the comment section of River's site, post it on your own site (with a link back to River).  

I have really enjoyed these prompts.  They give me a chance to cut loose, take the plunge....

Made sharp by Faith

Front: Robert, Mary, Mom and Dad; Back: Susan, Bill, and Don   about 1967...oh, the hair-do's of the day...

Originally, the family had five children, who became five adults.  Once a year a few of them would manage to meet together from the reaches of Pacific to Atlantic.  Robert was the stalwart lynch pin who lived near the "folks", told the stories, and looked forward when the others returned.

Then Robert died, at age 46.

"Coming home" was now a different matter.  The siblings felt the absence of this brother.  

There was one who never came home; never--well, seldom.  Once in ten years, and then another time a few years later.  That was Bill.

When Bill died, there were only three left: Donald (the eldest and now only brother), Susan (the pushy middle child) and Mary (the youngest and most stubborn).  Don was the one who helped Robert in his last days, since he lived only 90 miles away.  He helped the folks in their grieving.  He flew to Louisiana to bring Bill "home" to be buried.

When our mother was dying, Don was there almost every day, holding her hand, taking care of her wishes.

Don is now the lynch pin.  This is what he recently wrote to me, and he has given me permission to publish it.  God bless this man, my oldest brother, my friend.

Sis,

Had an emotional day which started three weeks ago with (grandson) Aaron’s confirmation service.  If you saw my Facebook entry, there is a picture of Aaron kneeling at an altar wearing a stole he made in the course of class activities.  His pastors have their hands on him, and he is surrounded by his mom and dad.  What a moment; they call on God to bless Aaron in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Grandson Aaron

I worship with them after my (ministerial) time at Loami Church.  I constantly hear from my friends of the contributions of Jeremy and his family to the community of faith.  One senior citizen told me of a conversation with Aaron, which was closed with Aaron saying, “I will pray for you”.  Jeremy plays his trumpet in the praise band.  During the sermon he sits with me.  This is no play-acting, but real discipleship is lived out in their lives.

Three weeks ago I wrenched my back at the lumbar 5 and 6.  This time was the worst pain I have ever felt.  I got meds for pain and still went to the hospital for relief.

I became depressed.  Every move hurt.  Muscles spasms kept relief at bay.

I suffered through our Loami Church breakfast, only to have a slight mishap on the way to the platform.  A church member helped and moved a chair to the center of the platform from which I led the service.  After my concluding blessing, a member gathered everyone to the front and then “laid hands” on me, with voice supplications for healing.  What a moment!

So I went straight home, and with an hour to kill, I read your blogs.

Your description of grief over our brother Bill, and the consolation offered by your granddaughter really overwhelmed me.  All I have experienced in the last month was felt in that verbal visual of a child holding you until you feel better.

We wonder why we suffer, and theology gives me the answer.  The difference between being a victim or a victor is defined in the moments you and I have shared on this page.  Somewhere in the experience is an awareness of LOVE, ill-defined by language, theology, or any human description.  But it is made sharp by faith: we have seen the face of God.

Don

The Lynch Pin

The Broken Heart(s)

Broken Heart(s

I was alone when I lost the baby. 

I didn’t know for sure that I was pregnant, although I had purchased two home pregnancy testing kits.  The first one said “NO”.

 I was saving the second test for another week.  Back then those tests were not as refined, as precise.

But, I was alone.  My husband and two children were visiting his brother and family.  There was to be a ham dinner, and we were there when I became sick with what I thought was the flu. 

John brought me home, left me there, and went back to his brother’s house.  I didn’t see any need for him to stay home with me.

I had stretched out on the sofa, with a ‘throw-up’ bowl just in case.  The cramps in my abdomen would come and go. 

I know what you’re thinking: why didn’t I recognize the cramps as contractions. 

Both of my children had been delivered by C-section.

After a few hours, I was in such pain, and headed to the bathroom.

You know what came next.  Male or female, no descriptions need to be given.

After all was done, I crept into my bed with a heating pad to home against my empty womb.

I was two minds about the miscarriage.  I started mourning for the baby I would never get to hold.  Yet, I was also glad I wasn’t pregnant, because my son was only 10 months old.

Most of all, I was broken hearted.

I curled up in a ball with the heating pad and a box of tissues.

I started crying. 

Susan Kane

24 February 2011  http://itsinthebookde.blogspot.com