Signs of Life

I came around the corner on the way home from school, and our car was in the driveway.  Our car, not to be confused with our little truck, which I was driving at the time. I knew the truck wouldn’t be in the driveway, as I was in it, but I was surprised to see the car.  I was expecting an empty driveway, which, as I’ve said, wasn’t the case. 

I couldn’t remember, though, where my wife said she was going to be when I got home. Had she said she wouldn’t be home?  I thought so, but I couldn’t be sure.  I’m good like that.

As I got out of the truck, I put my hand on the hood of the car.  It was cool, so she hadn’t gone out and gotten home early.  Hmmm. 

I grabbed my school bag, and climbed the few stairs to the front door.  Opening the screen door, I reached out and found the front door locked, which was strange, since my wife usually unlocks the door when her phone tells her I’m getting close to the house. 

“Hi honey, I’m home!” I called out as I opened the door.

Yes, that’s totally a cliché, which is why we say it.  

The house was quiet, except for Lulu whining to get out of her crate, and still I was clueless about the love of my life’s whereabouts.  

Then I saw a black sequined purse, fashioned in the shape of a cat, sitting on the chair nearest the door.  Looking further, I saw one bookbag, and then another.  A lunchbox, and a jacket on the floor.  And then a second lunchbox.

The granddaughters were here; that wasn’t my sequined cat purse.

Or, were they?  Were they playing “hide from grandpa,” as is their wont when I get home? Or, just as likely, were they outside?

As they weren’t home, I was the only one who laughed at me checking behind the furniture, the shower curtains, and under the beds.  

Finally, I gave in and reached for my phone.  

Learning of their walk around the block, the mystery was solved, and I found myself outside just a moment later, watching two little girls running toward me, their hair streaming behind them.  With an exaggerated “whoof,” I caught their hugs on the run. 

I was home, and my evening had started in one of the best possible ways!

Untitled, and That’s Okay

Look at the birds of the air . . .

I am not able 
– it turns out –
to influence the machinations 
of this world 
through my state of disquietude 
no matter how strong 
that state might be

So I must relearn to breathe 
to release 
to try to control only 
that which is mine to 
have even the illusion 
of control

I need to accept 
the reality of things
as unreal as I might 
find them

I must disconnect and 
find the virtues of a simplicity 
I’ve not known 
since my earliest years

Anything else is futility

Sanctuary is in the straightforward 

– – – – – 

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Matthew 6:26, NIV

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