~ Day 27 ~
It looks like summertime. You’d never know it is fall in the middle of the sunny desert.
My eyes scan the horizon for any glimpse of fall leaves in this sandy town. Nothing. This place of perpetual summer leaves and green cacti.
I’m left to close my eyes. Behind the lids I see the glorious gold. The rusty orange, raging red, and luminous yellow blaze in my mind’s eye.
The leaves will fall and again I’ll close my eyes to see the thick pillow of snow cascade across the landscape. This, I think, we might miss the most. The winter snow. There is just something about snow that makes everyone feel more like a brother, or a sister. Like we are trapped in a down comforter together. The snow feathers all around while we gaze in amazement and offer hands of help. There is something about the snow that quiets the earth and fills in the lines of division with white goodness.
We can look into the distance here and see the white caps of jagged mountains. These hills that surround us now will soon be covered in a white blanket. Almost close enough to reach, but not near enough to our front door step.
I remember the scene. My front door step just three years ago. I didn’t glimpse the stone of those steps for months. Two blizzards raged outside, back to back… just after he left. I watched the wind whip the branches around as the ice thickened and grabbed hold of the fast falling flakes.
The mounds grew and grew. By morning all we could see was white. Like a ski chalet somewhere on the other side of the world. While my warrior, green bags in tow, flew far away… somewhere to the other side of the world. Deserts far away from the white down on our front stoop.
He loves this stuff. I wish he could see this…
The shrieks and jubilant hollers from our, then, pack of five filled the cozy rooms. Some of the glee came right from mama’s mouth. There’s just something about snow. It brings me back to childhood memories while holding me in the present moment – all at the same time. Nothing else quite does that.
Weeks and weeks went by. Snow does begin to wear on mama bear somewhere between the soaked suits and wet boots. Many times I thought,
This would be so much better with two. He would just love this.
Friends with warrior hearts and pastors with servant’s souls came day after day to make sure mama and babies had supplies and a shoveled driveway. We just can’t make it through the cold days without our brothers and sisters. The white goodness in the hearts of friends and neighbors quieted and warmed our souls in the middle of missing daddy.
After months of snowy ground cover, the walkways seemed to transform to a slick glistening path of reflection… and danger of broken bones.
I don’t remember quite what I was doing, but I know just where I was standing when I saw her carefully climb those slick steps. My mind quickly made the judgement call,
Who on earth tries to sell stuff door-to-door in weather like this? Just nuts…
Her hand went to the door and she knocked briefly. She was dressed for the weather with a hat that capped what I was sure was plum craziness.
I opened the door anticipating,
No thank you, we aren’t interested.
It just goes to show you… not so fast. Not so fast with that judgement thing. You never know… you might just being opening the door to a gift.
She smiled at me,
Hi. I’m your neighbor down the street.
She pointed to the house. Oh, I knew the house. We all knew she was a hoarder. Not in the sense that all of us have trouble letting go, but in the true definition of hoarder. The house seemed to slowly disappear behind overgrown shrubs; and any glimpse into the cracked garage door bore witness to years and years of newspapers… and so much more. Stacks and stacks piled behind the darkened windows. Occasionally we would see a car come and go.
What could bring a person to this place… hoarding? The stories swirled of sadness… the passing of her husband was said to start it all. But, who knows where it all really starts?
My eyes widened as a smile crept to my face,
Hi. How are you? I’m Karin.
She smiled, shook my hand, and went on,
I heard your husband was deployed. I know you have a lot of kids down here and that you probably can’t get to the store. I was at Home Depot and grabbed the last two bags of rock salt. I want you to have them for your walkway. It can be dangerous with all this ice and I don’t want you guys to get hurt.
Just when you think you know a story… grace comes crashing in.
She went on to tell me about her daughter and grandchildren. She even offered to watch my children should I reach the brink of madness home alone with five of them.
We laughed and talked; and finally she went on her way down the icy path.
I watched out the window until I couldn’t see her anymore.
I felt His love and protection, and at the same time I heard Him whisper,
You just never know…
And, we don’t.
We don’t know the whole of any story.
We know pieces and parts. We form our opinions on shards of information… on slivers of truth.
We form our opinions on sheets of ice only to find grace and humility melting them all away.
Sometimes we don’t know the white pillows of goodness that are hidden in a heart.
The woman who hoarded things we couldn’t understand, freely gave what a stranger needed. You just never know.
You just never know what you’ll find on your front step… if you are willing to open the door…
and your heart.
Revelation 3:20
Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.
