THE SECRET PLACE, oil, RN
… our children. One day you will grow up, I may not be there, or just might : an old thing, sitting in the sun balcony peering at whats to cherish..
This Christmas you are still too little to understand this, so maybe am writing this for me. Jay your little hands in the christmas tree, feeling around the bauble and pine, laughing at these little lights ; yes its the first time you ve done this, and am proud as proud can be, at the miles we’ve done here, often alone, so alone.
Catrina, the stars you’ve made , out of paper and tinsel dust, spikey lil sassy stars / the little cards of love everywhere, ” love you Dadda love you Dean love you Ma…”
Dean our ‘natural born’ teaching you two lil ones songs for the music competition. Noe and I watched you three, each so different, so uniquely beautiful. Dean dark eyed and lissome,Catrina silken haired and six dimpled, Jay : blind and brimming with humor..
tears and laughter have crashed in this christmas. No lists of all the goodies we could never get you this year, just the growing ” Thank you Lord” ones filling every room and corridor, every wardrobe and dish. Am remembering praying that Catrina would walk and the pnemonia would leave. It did, the purr in the chest finally left. The scars on her leg shrank into a lil C. C for Christ we said often worriedly, when she asked.
Jay, angel eyes we declared, shrinking inside at the horrors of blindness.. Oh Lord what an angel. Stashed with humor and a parents’ dream come true.
Dean, beautiful daughter : and sister : never never allowing me to raise my voice at the lil ones. Complaining if they were noisy, but always there when they were hurt ; our beautiful teenager, oh the words here crumble …
No Lord, I have nothing left to ask You for Christmas. Just gratitude. Every hurt only yielded to more Faith. Every denial crashes in a weirdly quenching gallon of strength. Am saying weirdly, because face it, this whole “faith” game is kind of weird. Lights in the dark ! Seeing the Unseen! Faith the evidence of things Unseen, so that what was seen was made out of things Invisible. Hmm we all talk about it. Love Gurus and Universities of the Law of Attraction… so am saying it out loud. I believe in things Unseen, things thought impossible. That dreams come true, maybe not what we expected, maybe something better. Yeah yeah, seriously. I have results, and am sharing. I just know theres someone reading this, who matters to God.
Thank you I realise are the two most expensive words. They have a way of reminding one to fret over things yet to happen.
Today though I want to say this : when I am weak, Your Strength shows best. The bitter turns to sweet, flowers I still cannot see blossom in this valley, their fragrance intoxicating my death with Life. Shutting up my mutter. Your Power intrudes, breaking in thru closed doors and blasting stubborn Rock with Streams of Life.Your Health breaks thru skin, duelling Life like a two edged sword.. cutting thru bone and marrow, to the secret place where we just maybe, do not know we live.
Ah and how we live, deep down there. Neath all Protests and Fuss. Temporary Sweeteners and Charade. The Games we play, the promises we think we can keep on our own… oh erghghgh!
No Lord, on my own I’d have sunk this ship. Collapsed castles maybe…
With You on board this wild place springs with the gape mouthed wahhhh! of new things ; even Hope. As I write this, my hands tremble to think I’ll never know who is reading this. A confused parent, a lost child, an adopted family, a refugee of sorts. Christmas is a lonely time for some of us …
It needn’t be. I close my eyes with you, and look at the miles we’ve done. Did we really think we’ve been alone? Say ?
Or. Maybe and often, being in that lonesome place, is not such a bad deal. I find me there. The real me. Sometimes I balk. Sometimes I shrink away. But in this secret place, there is new beginning. The unseen me no one else can activate. Trust me, no one else.
Here I find joy, laughter and strength. Its the easiest place to reject. Thats the sad part. I should know, have done it almost all my life. We fall, hook line and sinker for the trappings, the thrills and spills, grabbing crumbs when we can have it all.
This time round, am trying. Look at the real stuff. Measure the miles done. The real people who matter. Love’s labour. Blessings. Favour stashed away in little hugs and lopsided home made stars, prayers waiting in the wings, and little blind eyes reflecting light…
Yeah, sigh, not everything is understood, not everything is good, or pure or lovely. Often there are no returns, the path crooked, or my feet betray me..
yet one thing remains. The greatest. Love. Mama Teresa Quote, ” .. in the Final evaluation, I will not be asked what I did, but what I did with Love..”
Yes ma’am, I could move mountains thru faith and sing like angel, I could give it all away to the poor and make such a noise about justice, but if I did it for love of self or name, uh oh… what good is that. Or to be seen or mentioned in Guiness books and Parliament moves.. . what good would all this festivity be if am a smile-eraser, if I cook that meal with suffering silence, or hold your hand here just to be noticed.
Scares me to think, if I do not have love, am naked, blind, wretched poor. Orphaned.
oh dear lord… I hope this Post reads real..