Spring rains pour down from the night sky soaking the earth and pounding against the roof making a familiar sound. Rainy nights often send me to a good book and a cup of tea, content to spend time quietly, but tonight rain sounds sink into my heart and remind me that I am alone with my book, computer, and thoughts. My stomach aches and my heart is empty as I finish another game of FreeCell.
I have not been alone all day. In the late morning I drove to my new part time job only to discover that the orientation had been canceled. I used some of the unexpected free time to find a pair of dressy black slacks, fifty-percent off. After a year of writing a book on my own schedule and then almost another year looking for work and moving, my wardrobe is tired and faded, not suitable for work.
Around two-thirty I headed home. As I approached the exit near my daughters house, I called and offered to pick her up and treat her to a late lunch, thinking we could buy cheap food, return to her place, and visit for a while.She took me up on the offer, but as I paid for the food her cell phone rang. She was going to a friends house to help him fix a bike and he wanted to know if she would like him to pick up some food for her.
No thanks. Actually I just got a hamburger and fries. I am good. See you soon. Turning to me she said, Maybe you could just drop me off at Chriss house.
I did, then drove home and nuked some broccoli and cauliflower in an attempt to redeem myself after descending into the pit of fast food. I washed a load of light clothes and answered a few emails while waiting for the washing cycle to end so I could bounce the clothes in the dryer and hang them up. That finished, I grabbed a postcard of a small museum and some artifacts my archaeologist daughter had sent to her Grandpa and a couple of magazines that had arrived in todays mail and set off to visit him at the nursing home.
The new facility is pleasant and the staff people I have met are all cheerful and kind, but he has been there for just two weeks and it still feels odd to think of it as his home. I arrived a couple of hours before dinner and Dad had fallen asleep in his recliner watching a show on the History Channel about the role heavy metals have played in human history.
We had a pleasant dinner and I chatted with other residents, aides, and nurses.
A female goose is sitting on five eggs near the pond by the apartments, I told Joanne as she settled into a chair near the table where dad and I sat. She smiled.
Whenever new life comes into the world, it is good, she said and then asked again if this was dads first day and how he liked the place. Joanne is sweet but has no short-term memory.
Dinner takes a long time. After an hour or so Dad was ready to return to his room and watch a John Wayne movie. He nodded off and on and when the aides came to dress him for bed, I kissed him goodnight and drove home. The rain started after I got into bed.
A friend called while I was working on a crossword puzzle. She just wanted to talk. Lonely souls too tired to go out but wanting some company. Sometimes I forget what Joanne remembers despite her forgetfulness: Life is good. It doesnt always feel that way. When its purpose is difficult to discern and I am aware of only struggle and disappointment, life seems long and spring rain sounds lonely.
One of the emails I checked today expressed a friends concern and wisdom: My heart goes out to you one of the best definitions of prayer I have ever heard. As for energy: if energy is spirit, your essential be-ing (from which your do-ings flow), your God-given identity as the beloved, the place where your branch connects to the true Vine — may you find that sacred place and there find refreshment and renewal.
That sacred place isnt in computer game or books. It is in the quiet place within, the emptiness, where, if I am brave enough to go, I meet the Holy One and know that I am not alone. I am beloved.
© 2010 Mary van Balen
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