Sunday Sabbath May 28 2017  A DAY FULL OF SURPRISES

The best laid plans of mice and men sometime go astray.  We worked diligently this week preparing our yard for spring.  We planned to invite impromptu guests over to join us for a “backyard, bring your own fast food entree afternoon” so we could acquaint ourselves with those whom we did not know.  Usually we have as many as we can facilitate.  We thought there might be those who had no plans on a Memorial Day Sunday and might enjoy the company of others.  None of those we asked were able to attend.

We even made our bed this morning just in case someone walked down the hallway to use the restroom.  We only put the spread on our bed about three or four times a year on very special occasions.  Usually we just shut the door.  I must admit it does look quite fine when the 32 year old comforter and pillows are displayed.  It makes the room look like a million bucks.  On second thought perhaps just a half million bucks.

Little did I know that all the primping and work we did in our yard was indeed going to have the chance to be appreciated after all.  Our neighbor came over and introduced us to her relatives that were interested in viewing our home per chance we might sell it to them.  I was especially delighted because then I was vindicated for the extra time it took to make up the bed so it looked company ready!  And believe me, making that bed was a last minute decision made this morning.  So, I was spared the embarrassment of tangled sheets and blankets sliding to the floor.

We happily showed them the house and let them know that, Dave and I were not interested in selling immediately.  But isn’t it nice how things work out when we follow our gut instincts because sometimes it pays off.

As the neighbor’s relatives were leaving we watched four young gangling boys (around 15 years of age) come barreling down our hill straight toward our driveway entrance ON TODDLER TOYS!  One was a painted pony, one a small bike and the other two modes of transportation were little riding toys for a two year old.  Their bodies were quite over-sized for the contraptions.  But boy, it sure looked like a lot of fun, but not for a mother to see!  Those boys flew down the hill at break-neck speed, using the rubber soles of their shoes against asphalt to slow down.  It was enough to turn the rest of my hair gray.  This was repeated several times. 

While they were carting their mobile units back up the hill I started following them.  They started walking faster to get away from me.  I knew I would lose them in a few moments if I didn’t say something.  I called out to their retreating backs and told them I wasn’t there to yell at them but just wanted to tell them a story. They all turned their shirtless bodies toward me and came back to listen. 

I told them about the time when I was eight years old and was riding a foot-steered go-cart down a high hill.  A car came head on around the curve and it frightened me.  I steered off into the gravel dragging my left knee behind me.  The go-cart belonged to a boy who insisted I drag it back up the hill.  I was in pain, bleeding, and crying (and scared).  Once I arrived back at my upstairs apartment I tried to sneak into the little apartment so I wouldn’t awaken my mom from her afternoon nap with my baby sister.  I could barely make it to the bathroom as I was bent over holding my throbbing knee.  I had the sense to get a washrag and wash my knee.  The blood was so thick I couldn’t see the injury and I at least wanted to see the scratches and scuffs.  When I looked at it after I washed the blood away I began screaming blood curdling screams, over and over.  I heard my mom yell, “THE HOUSE BETTER BE ON FIRE” as she came running!  I suppose she thought if I was screaming like the house was on fire then it better be for an important reason.  The look on her face after she washed the blood away, and saw my knee cap shining at her in all its whiteness, was a look that made me want to scream louder.  It was not a pretty sight and it was only then that I realized I had left a trail of blood in my wake and on the bathroom floor. 

Mama got me calmed down, cleaned the wound the best she could, and put me to bed.  When my father came home from his shift at work (3:00 p.m. to 11:00 p.m. shift) I was still awake.  Mama brought him into the bedroom to show him my wound.  The bleeding was under control.  To this day I remember asking him, “Why is my heart beating in my knee?”  I don’t remember the answer.  I heard daddy tell mama that he guessed she should take me to the doctor the next day.  That event happened the first week of summer vacation.

I told the boys this story and suggested that they might want to give some thought as to what possibilities could happen should they take a spill.  I told them I couldn’t tell them what to do or not do but they needed to think about the consequences they might face should they have a bad or debilitating injury.  I suggested they might want to weigh risks before embarking on certain endeavors.  I told them if they were my sons I would probably suggest they not do what they were doing.  Conversation ensued; they were caught off guard by my story and one thing led to the next.  Soon they were in my back yard and we had a delightful (at least I did) time talking about things in the neighborhood like backyard pools, summer fun, working, and getting their driver’s licenses, which would be happening in 6 months.  Not a comforting thought to an old lady!

We ended up on a trek through the paths in our woods and then two of the boys did a choreographed back-flip simultaneously once we returned to the neighbor’s meadow.  And of course we turned it into a photo-op!  I took a few pictures of them with their cameras. They were all in tip top form for boys their age and I could tell by their preening that it was important to them.  It was such a delight to be surrounded by such youth and vigor even if they were a bit lacking in some areas of commons sense. 

It was soon time to go.  They did one more downward half hill stint on their respective toys and I caught it all on video.  Oh well, so much for my suggestions!

YOUNG LIFE IS A GIFT

Kathleen Martens

May 28, 2017

http://www.visionsofpoetry.com

Yesteryear and today

Jumbled as one,

Memories of past

Both serious and fun.

A day of surprises!

It was quite a delight

To tell a short story

That just might…

Hit the mark

Of one so young

So serious consequence

Could be left unsung.

Young life is a gift

For only a while,

Hopefully to survive

To share future smiles.

Perhaps those four young men will remember the story I told them today and make wiser decisions in the future that might have lasting effects on their lives: and then again, perhaps not.  But at least I’ll sleep better tonight knowing I have made four potential friends instead of four potential enemies.  I was blessed and I believe Dave and I met a nice young man in the neighborhood who is willing to be hired by us for manual labor!  We’ve already pegged a few jobs for him.  Isn’t God good for orchestrating a day of surprises which turn out for our good!  

Back to my knee; it was a long recovery because of the delay of my medical treatment.  After medical treatment and packing (the knee could not be closed and had to heal from the inside out) it took six months to heal.  It was not my best summer but I did get a lot of reading done.

Unfortunately my time is too short to tell about the rest of the stories that happened today.  Like I said, it was a day full of surprises!

Thank You God for such an awesome day.

Thank You God that that all four boys went home intact.

GOOD NIGHT AND GOD BLESS YOU!