Its been a long while since I have posted much here at BP. And in the midst of life I have been building some things up, and yet tearing others down. It’s been a long road of twists and turns these last few years and my mind has been ablaze with wonderings or how life will turn out.
These days we are living in seem fuelled by fast paces and quicker steps, when all I really want to do is slow things down, to catch my breath and remember those still quite moments. I wrote about that once in an except when I was still working on a book – “And in the cool still of the falling snow, I always found it easier to believe in God. I love the silence that snow brings. The smoke from the fireplaces filling the air and reflections from brightly lit houses thrown across the blankets of snow. This does my soul good.”
I still believe this to be true, that the silence is where we hear God the most. It’s when the winds are raging around us and life’s toils find us hard-pressed that it is hard to find our much needed bearings.
Some days I wish it all would go silent, and maybe this is why I like those snow filled days so much. When late at night, the snow-lit streets are welcomed only by the light cast from lampposts and the world is hushed as to say, not tonight. The shadows cast upon the snow serve as the reminders of days gone bye in air filled with silence and nothingness is all you hear for miles. Continue reading
What you are about to read is true, it is a re-telling of an event that my father told me. It was told to him by his grandmother, and so the story lives on.
It was the late 30’s in Portland, Oregon and my grandmother had gone into the outbuilding garage to do laundry. In those days laundry machines were rarely inside the house. In the building was a latter which led to a loft where my great grandparents kept their boxes of storage. All of which had remained untouched for years.
My great grandmother went about her day, washing clothes and hanging them to dry. Until she heard rustling up in the loft. She thought maybe it was an animal that climbed up there and decided to go see.
But to her surprise what she found was an elderly lady going through the boxes of photographs. She called out to the lady “Hello”. The lady did not respond — again she said hello and nothing.
“Can I help you” my grandmother would ask, but the elderly lady continued her gaze into the boxes of photographs. No words were spoken. Thinking that perhaps the elderly lady had wondered away from the retirement home down the block she returned to the hose to place a phone call. Continue reading