Wisdom Between Them

My dad once said, in effect, that a house is like a child that never grows up. Though it does manage to grow old. How true!

When I “discovered” my house on a March 1st morning some 20+ years ago, I knew that it was perfect for us. Don’t ask me how I knew. I just knew. Deceptively large inside, far larger than one would guess by looking at it from the outside, and surrounded by trees, which were in turn, surrounded by farm fields, it symbolized all the pleasant contradictions of life.

My husband had the joyful, though challenging duty of making it fit for our ever-growing family. After his death, I just had to keep it from tumbling around my ears.

Over the years, I have learned a few secrets. Houses, like their owners, have their own trials and tribulations. Their weak spots. So the pipes run uphill when they are supposed to run down? And the landscape washes every rain shower into our back door?

So, like any decent human being with a certifiable conscience and good sense, I decided to fix things. Sure, my brain told me. Go ahead. Try. See how it works.

Or doesn’t.

Apparently moving the new well pipes to right behind the electrical box was not an act of genius forethought. Snakes liked the fresh holes though. Someone was happy anyway. And plastic is…well…plastic. It snaps. A lot. Crumbles even. And guess what? New flooring hates to get wet.

I sometimes wonder if I have made as many mistakes with my kids as I have with the house. Since my children are reasonably well adjusted and manage to hold jobs and move forward in their educational pursuits, I’m not terribly anxious about them. Just wondering why the house is so much harder to please.

Could it be that my lack of carpentry, electrical, plumbing, and basic know-how-skills has set me up for failure?

No, I blame my mom. Really it’s her fault. You see, under a compulsive, though, I must admit, a very generous assertion that she would never have a baby born on April 1st, my appointed due date, she decided that she would do everything within her power to have me born early. Using every trick in the book, which happened to include jogging around the block to the concern of her neighbors, lighting votive candles at church, and praying to every saint she could think of under the haze of the last trimester of pregnancy, she achieved her goal and gave birth to her sixth child two days early.

And thus, I have lived all my whole life under the delusion that to be on time is to actually be late. I hurry through everything in dread fear of being on time. Heaven forbid!

My children, though most of them arrived early, do not seem to carry this heavy load of urgency. I constantly have to pluck my jaw off the floor when they turn assignments in on time. Not late. Not early. But on time.

So naturally, when it comes to putting a new unassembled shelf together, I skip those dreary time-consuming instructions and go for it—so as to get the bloody thing done as fast as possible. Of course! That is what time hoarders do. We hurry! Ignore that fact that I have unexplained pieces left over after each assembly project. I just tuck them in the drawer as another of life’s quaint mysteries.

There is really no mystery to the fact that I lay down new flooring before I fix the threshold, which seeps water every time it rains. And it’s no wonder that the ensuing ripples perplex me. I did everything fast. It should have worked. There is no higher object in life than to get things done fast and efficiently.

Actually, both my mom and my dad had a lot of wisdom between them. If only they saw each other then as I see them now. Mom’s spirit of generosity bespoke of a love for her unborn child that any mother might envy. My dad’s clear-eyed appraisal bespoke a mind that accepted a homeowner’s reality without illusion.

Perhaps it’s not the house that needs to grow up…but its owner.

 

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd0z

What God Has Desired

I just finished reading my grandmother’s memoirs, and once again, I see the universe from a new perspective. Marie Haggerty had a terrible relationship with many members of her immediate family, but at age seven she fell in love with Irving McDonald and stayed in love with him all her life. She and Irving brought six children into a world changing faster and more wildly than they could ever have foreseen. And after each adventure—and misadventure—they would kiss before going to sleep. No trial or anxiety could survive that humble nighttime kiss.

I’ve heard it said, “Love is an action word.” But I suspect that might be a bit simplistic. There are times when love lives best in things not done. An angry word not said. A bitter mood not indulged. The silence of waiting for the right moment to deal with a problem. Not following when someone wants to be left alone. Yes, love is shown by our actions; we are known by our fruit. But sometimes, we love best by not reacting, demanding, or repeating compulsive family patterns.

My grandmother lived through a painful childhood, married the love of her life, cared deeply for her children, made enduring friends, painted pictures, and established new homes time and time again. Ironically, the copy of her memoirs I own does not include her final page. It ends without an ending. I know that Irv died on the way back from posting a letter. Dropped dead on the sidewalk. I don’t know how my grandmother died. I just know that she died, and my mother lived on. My mother died in her turn, and now I live on. At some point, I will die, and my daughters will live on.

But the snapshot of her life, the sound of her voice in my head as I read the words she typed so long ago, have made a lasting impression upon my soul. But for her, I would not exist today. Her life informed (and in some ways deformed) my mom, who passed her biology and emotional baggage onto me. And so in turn, my children inherit my physical dispositions and all the lessons learned (and unlearned) that I have experienced.

During this summer, I also read a great number of blogs and books on human relationships. Lots of great advice. But one oft-repeated refrain made me pause. It’s meant to release us from carrying other people’s burdens, I suppose. “You can’t change anyone.”

Really?

I went along with the idea until I pondered Christ on the Cross. Then I slammed hard against the redemption of the human race. We’re still apes, eh?

On the contrary, I suspect we are always changing people. Forming or deforming everyone around us and ourselves in the process.

I agree that the honeymoon is no place to try to convert your new hubby into a non-smoker. Or that a woman who loves faux fur is likely to appreciate taxidermy because you stuffed a mink in a perfect statuesque form in her kitchen.

But the truth is, at the end of her days, my mother was a changed woman. But she had known the love of her father and her father’s love for her mother. She may have lost her beauty, her strength, and her wit but she managed to eke out the word “lovely” when she saw her granddaughter. My dad has forgotten all his academic skills, but he remembers each week to say that he loves me.

Perhaps we can’t “change” people so much as we can help each other become what God has desired for us. Love is to will the good of another so that they can accept and return real love. My grandmother, probably because of grandfather’s devotion, willed me a great deal of good through her honest reflections.

I pray that the same can be said of me someday.

 

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd00

Take It Easy and Get Back To Work

So I decided I needed a break. I’d take it easy for a week. Read a novel. Take afternoon naps. Enjoy leisurely strolls down the road. Really rest up.

By Sunday evening, I was depressed beyond words.

Turns out that my mind can only take so much perfection. Then I ache for a problem to solve. A kitchen to clean. A fly to swat.

Not to give the impression that the rest didn’t do me good. But even a rest needs to end. There comes a point when “rest” becomes the newest line on the to-do list…except nothing gets done.

The real rest occurred during the first half of the week when I was seriously tired and needed it. Then the naps, the novel, the change of pace, and even the strolls allowed me to breathe deeply again.

But as the week wore on, the rest wore thin. By the weekend, I was wondering why I existed at all. I stood firmly by as laundry piled up, dishes accumulated in the sink, words did not get written, stories knocked around my brain, and my soul doubted its existence.

God flourished though. He rested and waited, and probably tapped His foot as I went from weary to relaxed to woeful.

My experience as a human being is summed up in the word—unpredictable. The moment I imagine the perfect scene is the moment that the scene won’t measure up in reality. God can imagine a leaf and make it quiver with life. I imagine anything and I stop seeing what really is. I stop being present. Alive to what grows and goes all around me.

The beauty of fiction is that it is fiction. I don’t actually expect Luxonian aliens to quarrel about the value of the human race with Ingots or Crestas. The fictional world is only a picture of what is real. A painting of a leaf. Not the leaf itself.

Rest is like that. Real rest is a deep imbibing of reality. Allowing the body to slow to a gentler pace, the heart to beat with a quieter rhythm. It is not dead space. It does not push the universe and all of life aside. On the contrary, it pays deeper attention to what is. God’s reality. The created world. The breath of life. Love.

The fast pace world of to-do-lists, chores, got-to-get-it-done-or-the-world-will-end anxieties, are really far less real than the “real” of rest time. And that’s why it is so hard to stay there. Because, in a way, it forces us to re-orientate our souls toward what is real and important. And that is awesome. But exhausting.

Then we need a break from resting, and we get back to work. To our imaginary reality. Our to-do-lists and our work related priorities.

So, the dishes are done, the floor has been swept, the laundry is in the dryer, I finished a story, and I’ll start dinner in a bit.

Life is good. Glad I got a rest. Now I’ll take it easy and get back to work.

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd00

If You Want To

Edith never had any intention of painting her forearm olive green. It just sorta happened to happen. She stood under the afternoon sun and stared at the husky built man before her with utter defiance seething through her pores.

Aden only laughed.

“For your information, I was helping my son spray paint his crossbow.” Edith flicked her finger toward the woods behind the man. “He wants to blend in with nature. Makes perfect sense to me.”

Shaking his head, Aden strolled across the grass to a camp chair set before a fire pit. “His idea makes sense. Your arm on the other hand… Don’t you ever read directions?”

Edith stomped across the yard to the brooder house. “I read them. But they never mentioned anything about accidentally brushing your arm against freshly painted crossbows.”

Aden plunked down on the folding chair before the flickering fire, stretched, and leaned back. “I can’t leave you alone for a few hours without some kind of mishap or another.”

Edith stopped at the chick house door and considered her retort, but her eldest son, Cal, strode forward carrying a load of wood and dumped it at the base of the fire pit. “This should keep us for a while.” He peered at her arm. “Hey, what happened to—?”

Edith waved him off. “Don’t ask. I was just helping Nick with the manly arts of crossbow decoration—something you could’ve been doing—big brother.”

Cal blanched, his gaze flickering to Aden. “Hey, I mowed the lawn this morning, straightened the barn door, and turned on the outdoor well pump.” The young man crossed his arms in an attitude of defiance.

“And he got us an armload of wood. I’d say the kid has earned his pay for the day.” Aden gave Cal a nod of approval.

Edith shot Aden a sneer. “Unlike some people…”

Aden’s grin widened. “I’m here on vacation; remember? You’re the one who said that country life would relax me…take all the tension outta my overstressed body.” He clasped his hands behind his head. “Well, I’m relaxing. And you’re right, I’m not feeling a particle of stress at the moment.”

Edith rubbed her forehead. He had her, and she knew that he knew, that he had her. How could she admit, even to herself, that she had been entertaining fantasies of leaving her to-do list in the dust as they played games of volleyball or went to the movies? She glanced at the half-mowed yard and sighed. “I gotta take care of these chicks, or they’re going to expire, and we’ll have to eat pork chops all winter.”

Cal nudged Aden. “Want something cold to drink? I’m going in for a soda; I can bring one out.”

Aden nodded. “Sounds good.” He grinned as he met Edith’s gaze.

Edith swung on her heel and smothered a string of naughty words.

~~~

As the sun sank below the horizon, painting the summer field crimson and sienna, Aden stacked an array of used paper plates and tossed them on the low burning embers. He collected four crushed soda cans and lined them on the nearby picnic bench.

Edith watched his slow, deliberate motions as if viewing them from Mars. Her whole body ached in weariness, though it was a pleasant ache, like a drug-induced state of utter relaxation. Her body could take no more, so she simply had to give in to rest. As she licked the last crumb of chocolate cake off her upper lip, her eyes meandered over his muscled arms. “Uh, oh. You’re working… I thought that was against the rules.”

Aden chuckled. “It’s not work if you want to do it. I happen to like stacking paper plates and lining up soda cans.” He dragged his camp chair near hers and plopped down, the fabric straining against his weight. He lifted her limp hand and caressed her fingers. “You know, not all physical exertion is work.”

Edith groaned. “Don’t play with my mind.”

“It’s not your mind I was thinking about…”

Edith forced her body into an upright position and stared at Aden. “You’ve been here the whole weekend, and you’re clearly feeling better.”

Aden nodded, his gaze focused on the horizon. “That’d be putting it mildly.”

“Good.” With a sigh, Edith leaned forward and clasped her hands. “You know, I only want what’s best for you. But it never dawned on me that for us…I have to want what’s best for me as well. All work and no play makes Edith a grumpy girl.”

Aden sighed.

Edith pushed through her hesitation. “When I visit, you work like a madman to manage your job and keep me and the boys entertained. When you come here, I run the situation in reverse.”

A hound dog ambled over and nudged its nose into Aden’s lap.

“Seems like there should be a happy medium somewhere, doesn’t there?” Aden rubbed the dog’s head, his gaze wandering to the first stars blinking in the firmament. “Maybe we should do some projects together?”

Like a puppet yanked by invisible cords, Edith flopped back onto her chair, a boulder pressing on her shoulders. “Like Habitat for Humanity sort of thing?”

Aden snorted, rose to his feet, and stepped around the dog. He scooped the cans into an empty box. “No. Well, maybe down the road we could do something like that. But in the meantime, I could help you here, and you could help me at my place. Seems silly to be always trying to entertain each other when we’ve got more work than any single person can do.”

“It’s not work if you do it together? Is that what you mean?”

Aden stepped behind Edith’s chair and rubbed her shoulders. “I watched you scurry about this place like a rabbit running from a fox. Cal’s a great kid and even Nick helps out. But I couldn’t help but wonder—am I running through my days, rather than living my life?”

Warm peace seeped into Edith’s body. “Join the club. Human beings need to justify our existence…one way or another.”

“Though pleasant distractions also work well to pass the time.” He rubbed Edith shoulders a little harder.

Cal stepped into the faint circle of glowing light. “Hey, hate to break up your fun, but it looks like Nick might have stopped up the sink. Something about washing the leftover instant potatoes down the drain.”

Edith slapped her forehead. “Oh, Lord. I knew I should’ve made baked beans.”

Aden stepped away from Edith and clapped Cal on the shoulder. “Come on, kid, I’ll show you a new trick. It’s called plumbing with potatoes.”

Cal snorted and marched alongside Aden, his gaze focused on the kitchen light ahead, his smile widening.

Edith rose with a groan. In a state of happy exhaustion, she peered at the gloriously star-speckled sky and shook her head. Her life rotated with the universe—work, rest, and plumbing with potatoes.

She laughed.

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter  https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd00

Whispering In My Ear

There is no end to the reproductive abilities of my to-do list. As soon as I send half a dozen items into obliteration, it squares its shoulders, huffs like an angry rhino, and spontaneously combusts fourteen new items for me to get done before the end of the week. I can hear them pop into existence all the way from the kitchen.

So this week, after I whittled my list down to a mere four items, I decided to play a trick on my merciless taskmaster; I drove to the lake and stared over the rippling waves, where no list could follow. The sound of the wind would surely block any distant popping.

And ya know, it worked. For awhile.

Unfortunately, that did not stop my brain from working over time. As I soaked up the warm sun, and my skin prickled under the influence of a cool wind, I noted that life is full of inexplicable ironies.

For example, we got our chicks nicely ensconced in their outdoor pen. Two of my children are their primary guardians during their growing season. After approximately seven weeks, the chicks go from adorable hopping balls of yellow fluff to ugly Gallus gallus domesticus. (I kid you not—that’s their scientific name—ask Google.) And astonishingly soon, they are the main course at dinner.

How is it possible that on one day, I feel protective of the little featherheads, and in a short time, I’m…well…you know? Basically, the answer has a lot to do with the fact that chicks grow into chickens. And my family needs to eat.

Consider the more challenging irony of being born to die, loving people even when it hurts like hell, how good intentions can go so very wrong, and a host of other questionable realities. I may have silenced my main taskmaster, but life is never done whispering in my ear.

This morning, my to-do list sent me to the Salvation Army, but it took a deep longing to steer my car to the lake, a full heart to soak in the warm sunshine, and a grateful mind to accept the temperate breeze. As I stared at the waves, time slowed, birds screamed at each other, and I smiled at their antics. Eventually, God and I conversed, though I did most of the talking. And all the while, the Earth continued to spin on its axis, and all of humanity lived their lives without me.

But by the time the sun started its downward journey, my stomach was rumbling, a faint pop sounded in the distance, and life—with all its ironies and perplexities—called to me.

I’m home now and the chicks are running about their pen like the carefree Gallus gallus domesticus they are. The sun is still shining and the breeze is stronger than ever. I’m still talking, and God is still listening. And my to-do list can reproduce at will.

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd00

Live and Learn

Thelma stared at her daughter and wondered if perhaps aliens had abducted her child and sent a brainless bot in her stead. She crossed her arms over her chest knowing full well that it was a defensive posture. “So, you’re going to move in with Brad without even a promise ring? A hint of a proposal? Without asking me what I thought—”

Bea grimaced and leaned against the kitchen counter, her hands cupping a mug of hot coffee. She shook her head, took a tentative sip, and then met her mom’s gaze. “Oh, Lord, Mom. I’m a grown woman, for Heaven’s sake. Brad and I are both starting out, and we don’t want to hike across the city just to meet up on weekends. Besides, it’ll save on expenses, and that’s a good thing. You’ve always been the thrifty one. You should be proud of us for saving money, not tossing religious dogma at us.”

The ache that had started in her throat had now risen to Thelma’s eyes. She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. Where was the girl who had extolled C. S. Lewis as a brilliant Christian thinker? Who argued the merits of sincere religious faith over vacuous feel-good reasoning? The kid who went to Mass faithfully each week and Holy Days of Obligation? The one who—

“Earth to Mom…”

“Don’t you believe in marriage…the sacrament…what it stands for?”

Bea pulled a kitchen chair away from the table and plunked down with a sigh. She took another sip—a longer one—closing her eyes in apparent savory pleasure. “This is good, Mom. What kind—?”

“Don’t change the subject. I asked a simple question.” The morning sunlight hit Bea’s golden hair, highlighting it like a halo over the girl’s head. Thelma closed her eyes against tears.

Exhaling—a patient teacher waiting for her stubborn student to catch on—Bea tapped her fingers on the table. “Sit and relax, Mom. You’re getting worked up over nothing.”

Resentment burned her tears away. Thelma plunked down across from her daughter, her back ramrod straight.

“You know I haven’t been going to church for years. I still believe most of the stuff you taught me. And I like what the faith says, but I have to find my own way. I’m my own person. Brad’s a good guy. I really like him, and he really likes me. Sex is a natural part of our relationship, and I don’t think God disapproves of our enjoying each other. We’re human. God knows that. He made us this way. Your hang-ups about sex and marriage are from a different era. A time when women had no rights apart from a man. I’m not that kind of woman. So let me enjoy my life, okay?”

Thelma didn’t even know where to begin. Nothing in her homeschooling manual had prepared her for this conversation. After all the years of Catechism and spiritual nourishment, how could things turn out like this? How could all her loving examples and heartfelt teaching be wiped so effortlessly away?

The sensation of drowning overwhelmed her. From the crucifix on the wall to the painting of Archangel Michael above the archway, she sought support…inspiration…hope of any kind. O, God, have I believed an illusion?

As she clasped her hands, her attention fell on the faded white skin around her ring finger. Ron had died two years ago, but she could still feel the symbol of their love. Her thumb pressed against the soft flesh. She peered at her daughter. “The day your dad proposed, he knelt on one knee and held out a gold ring, his hands shook so hard, I was afraid he’d drop it. He didn’t. But the ring wasn’t the important thing…his declaration of love and fidelity was.”

Bea leaned back, her eyes scrolling the kitchen ceiling as if begging patience from the white stucco.

Thelma leaned forward. “Marriage isn’t about a piece of paper or an ancient ritual. It’s about what human beings believe and are willing to sacrifice for. You’re right; God created us as sensual beings, and I’m sure He highly approves of a union based on love and respect. So much so that He wants us to treat our relationship with great honor.”

“Save the lecture, Mom. I’ve heard all this before. I’ve read the manual on marriage and the whole John Paul II Theology of the Body thing. I just don’t want to be tied down to rules. God is bigger than rules.”

A cloud swept in, obliterating the glorious rays of sunshine.

Thelma stood and poured herself a cup of coffee. She doused it with brown sugar and creamer and then leaned against the counter. “But, you, my dear, need rules. You’re not God. Neither is Brad. As it stands now, you two are simply using each other. And that works for a while. Until it doesn’t anymore. What about when one of you gets laid off…or sick…or bored? What if Brad sees another woman who’s more attractive to him? Or you find another man? What then?”

The line of Bea’s jaw hardened. “I know plenty of divorced Catholics. Their marriage vows didn’t save them.”

“But they should have. If they had lived marriage as it’s meant to be.”

Bea offered an exaggerated yawn. “The unbreakable union between God and His people…yadda…yadda…yadda. Yeah, I know. Sounds good. But, frankly, Mom, you’re not listening. I don’t care. I want to live with my boyfriend. I don’t need a long-term commitment. I just want convenient sex and a man I can rely on—”

Thelma’s jaw ached. “You’re not listening to yourself. You want someone to rely on without being honest about what it takes to depend on each other. Relationships are hard. They take work, sacrifice, and commitment.”

“Maybe for you. Not for me. I find relationships easy. Maybe that’s your problem, Mom. You ruin love by overthinking everything.”

The knife went deep, and Thelma knew she couldn’t pull it by herself. She set her cup on the counter and strode out of the kitchen. As soon as she was out the front door, she started walking toward the only answer she could depend upon.

It took nearly an hour to reach St. Bridget’s on foot, but she didn’t care. At least, she had stopped weeping long enough to wipe her eyes and enter the Adoration Chapel with a semblance of composure. An older man, probably in his 80’s, sat in a chair before the Monstrance, his hands clasped, his eyes closed. For a moment, Thelma wondered if he was awake. She couldn’t see his chest rising or falling. Oh, God, could he—?

The man opened his eyes and met her gaze. He blinked and grinned. “I concentrate better with my eyes closed.”

A blush rose over Thelma’s face. She bowed, made the sign of the cross, and then sat three seats away.

The man straightened and cleared his throat. “My granddaughter was supposed to be here today, but she broke her hand in a game yesterday. Stupid accident. I warned her, but the young never listen to the old. Think we’re fools and has-beens.”

Thelma nodded through a forced smile.

“Everyone’s got to make their own mistakes. Live and learn…then face God with the balance.” He sighed. “I didn’t listen to my grandpa either. Probably why I’m doing so much time in church now, eh?” He rubbed the small of his back. “Could you take the next hour till Judy comes?”

Thelma nodded. She hadn’t listened to her mom much either. Funny how that goes. She knelt down and bowed her head.

Later that night, Thelma dialed Bea’s number. She leaned against the counter and waited. When Bea answered, she knew that they wouldn’t talk about marriage, boyfriends, or God. There was only so much a mother could do. Even as she listened to a catalog of her daughter’s eventful day, the old man’s words rang in her ears: Live, learn, and face God with the balance.

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd00

Learn As I Go

So I was sitting in the doctor’s office and a mother comes in with the world’s cutest toddler. This child could have ousted Shirley Temple off the stage for sheer adorableness. It wasn’t just the white bow wrapped around her head, her moccasin slippers, or her bright blue eyes…it was her bubbling enthusiasm for everything and everyone in the room. She was absolutely certain that the world was a wonderful place, and everyone was her best friend.

As I watched the mini bundle of energy scamper to the nearest toy, her mother followed close behind, her hands at the ready for any slips or trips. Soon mom had her little one ensconced in her lap and helped her baby push the colored beads along the complex wire arrangement that probably made some toy maker rich.

In my lap, I gripped my latest to-do list. Among all the usual tasks of the week, I had outlined jobs and assignments for each of my kids. Since my children have an age range from 23 to 10, I have to consider their abilities in relation to their experience and natural inclinations. A kid who loves animals to distraction is better at remembering to feed the dogs and cats than a kid who would rather spend the morning reviewing Italian Cuisine recipes.

Over the years, I have altered and re-altered my mothering techniques to the point where I am very reluctant to tell another mom how to do it right. I vividly recall a couple that presented to my husband and me their most successful childrearing philosophy—“Use common sense.” Right. Sounds great. But what does that mean when facing a screaming baby whose diaper is dry and tummy is full, a toddler with a purple ring around his mouth who can’t seem to remember what he ate to get the vibrant hue on his face, a little girl who has packed her bag to go to boarding school without telling mom a thing about it, a son who asks what to do with his life, or grieved kids when they discover that not only is life not fair, but human beings can be vicious without cause.

Being a parent is a little like being God. But without the power and the glory. For a time, a parent has a say about everything. To the point of utter exhaustion. But little by little that power erodes, as well it must, and the child grows into his own decision-making being. Then the parent must step out of the way. The child must lead.

But what about when they don’t see the need? What if mom or dad have been so good at what they do and the world so darn comfortable, that it is simply easier to continue in the comfort zone? Truth be told, it’s no fun getting out of the perfect-parent zone either. It’s peaceful and enjoyable to hold a baby in your lap and move their hand, as you know it should go for the best effect.

As I consider our world today, I think of all our comfort zones. A world where so much is given to us. Where our feet are directed to schools. Our minds are directed in classes. Our passions are directed through media. Our faith is directed through traditions and habits. I have to wonder, when does direction become strangulation?

The cute baby I saw today charmed everyone in the waiting room. In the best scenario, she’ll grow up and better the world through her chosen passions and abilities. But to get to that point, she’ll have to sit by herself, and mom will have to let go of her hand.

I don’t have a quick formula for parenting. Like my kids, I learn as I go. But the key is—learn to let go. We have to allow our kids to grow up and make their own choices and face real-life consequences.

Though we’re never far behind.

For even if our hands don’t touch, surely our hearts do.

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter  https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd00