Thursday, September 1, 2011

weathering our storms

This was our corner of the sky the day after Irene went through. It actually was quite a beautiful day. Very breezy/windy and very comfortable temps. Some, who were impacted with flooding were probably not able to enjoy such things. The street and neighborhood where I grew up had terrible flooding, in some cases, roof high. My condolences and prayers for them, and everyone struggling with Irene's aftermath.

 I am glad that storms do pass, eventually. All kinds.

I spent last Friday at Melissa's college, helping her get the last of her things moved in, attending orientation, and doing some of the obligatory line-waiting and the moving around of funds.

On my way home, it being Friday AND pre-Irene, there was lots of traffic. At one point it was at a standstill. Right in front of this house.
 This is the house the kids and I last lived in, up until 1998, when my 13 year marriage breathed its last. Five of my seven are from that marriage.

It was not boarded up then, or as overgrown, but it never was in great shape, as it was slated to be torn down, even when we lived there. It's kind of fitting that it has the dreaded "condemned" sign out front. That marriage was in trouble from the start, and hung by a thread for many years. Some awful times were had in this house, for me and for the kids. I experience much regret when I look at that place where some things went on that I should have put a stop to long before September 1998. For me, it was a mixture of hanging onto my vows and putting my faith in God; and having the boiled frog syndrome. You know--put him in the water and turn the heat up so slowly that he doesn't realize he's being cooked till it's too late. I knew things were bad, but I was so indoctrinated to the way things were in our house, I didn't really grasp how bad for a long time. Plus, I just wanted everything to get better.  I wrote about this time a little in the post entitled  Salvation History Part Four, from then till now.
 Sitting in front of the house, I felt compelled to call my eldest daughter Meghann. She lived through what may have been some of her toughest years here. I was looking at the front porch, recalling some vivid memories of my children in their much younger years, and some tougher ones too; when just to add to the strangeness of it all, Meghann (who was simultaneously caught in a traffic jam in Michigan), witnessed the immediate aftermath of a horrible accident in which she got a close up view of a driver slumped over his steering wheel, and by appearances, possibly dead. There were no rescue vehicles around, no people there,  just this poor man, alone, and possibly dying alone. She had her little boy with her, so she couldn't stop herself. We hung up and she tearfully called 911. She was able to see the rescue vehicles arriving since she was moving so slowly in traffic herself, so that was some comfort, but we both prayed for the poor man. (She later was able to find out that he is still alive, though in critical condition).

That's really what our life was when we lived in that house. A car wreck. And many of us were dealt life threatening blows. They just didn't show yet. Some of our family walked right up to deaths door in a very real way. Thank God that we all, in our own ways, are still recovering. If you think about us, please say a prayer. Some are still in the trenches.

But there is that blue sky, clouds being blown apart by the fresh wind. The Holy Spirit is often referred to as the "breath of God."  So, wherever we are right now,  we are all under that sky that He created, and His breath is upon us. The storm really can actually be in past tense. There can be a new chapter, fresh air and a fresh, clean outlook. Even though our memories can't be erased, we can put the car in drive and move on. The windows are boarded, and the place eventually will be razed.

 Here is my house now. I bought this african violet when it was in bad shape and just kept feeding, watering and pulling off the dead leaves. This is the first time it has bloomed in a couple years. The little glass Blessed Mother keeps watch over all the goings on in our kitchen.  She is a bit chipped from some rough times, too.

Blessings and Peace to all my dear readers. In Him we can weather all our storms. 



  1. This was beautiful.
    So glad you're in "a better place" now.

  2. Yes, so glad you've moved on. The struggles we overcome make us stonger. If we let Him, Christ heals all wounds.

  3. Hey Kelly, on a separate subject, if you get a chance, check out The Journey Home this week. It was really interesting and I know you enjoy the program. The guest's name is Keith Major. If you miss it Saturday I'm sure you can see it on youtube.

  4. I will! If I miss it, I should be able to see it in the archives online :)