Her life is full of predictability. She wakes up and lies down at the same hours, she follows all of her appointments and every interaction is like the last. Recently, she notices her companions do not look familiar and she does not remember the regular events of the day. Her daily tasks seem unimportant and she would rather sleep than stay awake to see nothing of value happen. She writes diligently in her diary every event as the day progresses and the next day she reviews it with detail. Only the meals, clothes and familiar faces bring comfort. Though frustration with her current state looms over her head, she keeps every day on the same pace. One day she could not remember anything from the day before, but she knew her diary would help. She grabs it and reads it aloud to her family member on her visit. She reads about her lunch and talk with Ivy down a few doors. She reads also about the letter she wrote to the president. Her visitor draws closer to hear the story. She goes on to read what she wrote the president on the current state of war. She plainly states that her family could lose their home unless the president takes action and ends the war. She leans forward to show the president’s response. He thanked her for her concern and assured her that he was doing the best he could to make life safer for her family. She smiles as she remembers that day, then a frown sneaks in. She becomes aware of the time. The event did not take place the day before. She was nine years old when she wrote to the president. She tries to change the conversation and looks about the room for somewhere to rest her tired eyes. Her visitor begins to ask her for more details on the president’s letter. She did not know her grandmother as well as she thought. The slip of time revealed a new depth to her life. The current troubles did not remind her of failure for she fascinates her granddaughter with fearless stories of her past.
May your past of this year, reveal a wiser individual in the coming year. Happy New Year!
Each receives a single piece of paper, stamps and the challenge. They must create a symbol of the season. The winner will display their creation for all to see. Ingenuity, creativity and innovation are at work. Those watching share ideas and place their bets. The competitors continue to work making faces as they struggle to achieve the right shape. A fold here, a few tears and the anxiety of meeting the challenge fills every team. They trace with their fingers every corner and stamp it.The timer runs out and the big reveal arrives. A Christmas tree worthy of the challenge.
Merry Christmas to all!
A schedule set, a place organized and a door unlocked should bring all invited. The invitations were explicit. The time precise. The last detail perfected would clearly show the effort taken. The clock chimed, the mood and music selected, but the doorbell did not ring. The food put away, she reviews the email invitations, the people in her list and the time once more. No one was on time and the food did not get eaten until they arrived. The ones to easily embarrass her and question her ways came. They asked for the food, commented on her music and of all her holiday display. They talked louder than they should and were not always sensitive to her feelings but they would never forget her or miss any of her showings. Instead of a night of complaints, she felt relieved and played whatever music they wanted. Sometimes the ones that keep coming even though imperfect express more love than the ones expected.
She stands. The wind blows picking up her hair and pulling it to all directions. Her dress pushes against the front of her body. Small pieces of paper and metal fly past her cheeks while a single speck of dirt spreads on her forehead. Tiny rocks and pebbles scrape her legs and nose. Her dress struggles on her. It doesn’t know whether to hang on or be set loose by the force beckoning it. Her eyes rest closed. She doesn’t clench her teeth. She doesn’t close her fists. Every flying object bruises her arms but she doesn’t complain. She can feel the strength of the storm. She can also feel the weakness in her body. Others walk by her and feel nothing, see her but ignore her. The sun does not scorch them nor do they feel their own weaknesses. She does know her frailty and does feel the pain and yet she stands resolute.
There are times where the efforts of many fail. The innovative ideas, the goals and date lines result in zero. There is no forward movement or eye-opening discovery. Sometimes nothing evolves. A wild and uncontrollable stillness overpowers your life. All you have to do or make of is what you came into this world holding, your talents. When nothing happens that makes money or increases your status, you have yourself. I’m not referring of vanity or self-reliance but your uniqueness, your God-given talents. When time stands still, you have the time to paint, to write, to record, to create, to do the things you never had the time to do unless God put your life on hold and placed you in a time bubble.