Tucked in a corner...

Short story - take it for what you will.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I turn my head, crane my neck, strain to hear the faintest music I've ever heard. Someone has to be playing it - oh - maybe it's just the church bells down the street.

It's ironic - if it's the church bells, that is. I was there last week...I'm not sure why. It had been a while, and I remembered why it had been that long. No one notices when you never come. Well, until you come back, anyway. I had wandered through the doors the day before I came to the church service - had found them open and walked into the sanctuary. Light was streaming through the windows, but it was empty. Totally devoid of life - and something in that image reverberated so deeply through my own body that I felt I had to return the next day. Any attachment I had ever felt to that building and its people had disappeared years ago. But I still came back...

People don't care when you leave - I don't think they ever really saw anything in me anyhow. Just some less than well dressed throwback. They all tried so hard - well, some of them did - to hide the stares that burned into the back of my head. I saw.

But no one ever asks questions. They just assume. No one cares about history - life stories - failed attempts at love - failed attempts at life. I wasn't always like this - but life really doesn't care about the before, about the once was, about the used to be. Only people do.

I came back, stood, watched people smiling around me. It's just as well - the only story people ever want to hear is their own. I wish I could hear mine - it's been a while. Instead, it remains trapped inside my head - the only place it's ever known - the one place I wish it would leave. I sit here at my desk - yeah, I do have one.

But you wouldn't know that. It's not part of your story. The church bells are gone now - or whatever music it was. Maybe I was imagining it. Or maybe I just really wanted to have heard it...

Author unknown...

Not a normal post...but there is something haunting about it that I just can't shake...


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


I don’t know what’s left.

I can’t tell what’s going through his head. “The leader meeting was the only impassioned thing I did yesterday!” he said after not being able to recall the other meetings, the worship…

“You can’t look at one day and write the rest off as worthless.”

I was in a room with him, the kids were there, and there were beds off to one side. The room looked something like our gym at camp. The youngest boy was there with his dad…I’d been asleep and had woken up. I spent part of the night listening to Father “teaching” son how to put things into the computer, but really, he was talking to himself. He was talking out loud to himself, I think to convince his mind, and his heart, that the decisions he was making were real…and were right. I’d woken up and had walked past the room they were sitting in – his wife was across the hall.

I know things aren’t right – but I also don’t know what I can do. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him speak his mind in front of his colleagues.

Damn you, Mr. Ed.

Oh yeah – then there were the rats…tons of them in cages like we were in one of the animal barns at the fair. There were chickens too – and a little palomino horse that was trying her damndest to get away. The janitor sat there watching. Knowing that what was going on wasn’t the way it should have been, but refusing to help any more than was necessary to keep chaos from setting in. The mother of the girl with the horse got up when the little mare started to panic and the janitor turned with an “I told you so” smirk of sorts on his face – but there was sadness there too. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen those two emotions together before. Is that what guarded contempt means?

And there was a storm. We were at a camp again – part of the youth there were my canoe kids, and three other younger kids – the pastors kids - were there too. I remember having each of their hands…edged up against the wall as the wind howled – when we’d looked out minutes before, there were at least three tornadoes headed straight for us. We sat and the wind got louder, the ground shook – I told the kids to put their hoods up, and I honestly thought that I was going to die. We were alright though – even after two rounds of it. I think I remember watching some of the walls in front of us fall.

And then, a roll of thunder pierced the silence of the cloudy morning, and I rolled over in bed. It was 8:11.

I will not make the same mistake that you did…

What have we become...

The week begins. You walk into the bathroom only to find that the bottle of shampoo that was full two days before is almost empty, not to mention lying in the bottom of the shower. You know who did it, go find them and yell at them, and they don't care. Then, you go tell your parents - who roll their eyes and shrug it off...making you even more incensed. Clearly, they don't care about your plight...and like your good for nothing brother more than you.



Now, all of this would be fine if the siblings in question were ten and twelve. But when they're both in their mid twenties...well...that's another story altogether. What is the parent supposed to think when their 24 year old daughter comes to them whining that their older brother (they both still live at home) stole something of theirs? I know parents are supposed to love their children unconditionally, but there comes a time when you really just have to let them "fight their own battles." The parents see the potential (however well masked) in both of their children, but what did they do wrong that they haven't yet succeeded in raising a self sufficient child?

Our Hearts and Prayers Go Out...

So, I am sure there are hundreds of other people that decided to post a blog entry about the collapse of the I-35W bridge. It is a tragedy of unbelievable proportions. As I sat watching the news last night and keeping up with the constant updates on various websites, I couldn't help but be transported back to 9/11 and watching the events unfold on the TV. While this tragedy wasn't as big and didn't affect as many people, news of it still traveled across the country at magnificent speed, and it still shocked thousands. The 50 cars that now sit in the Mississippi serve as reminders of those who managed to survive the collapse, and also serve as reminders of those that are still missing.

It is an amazing thing to hear the stories of those that wasted no time in rushing to the aid of those around them. The internet and news are flooded with stories of modern day heroes that pulled victims up on the banks, sat with those waiting for help, and risking their lives to get others out of harm's way. It is also amazing to hear the stories of those who had close calls - who had driven over the bridge moments before its collapse, or those who just happened to choose alternate routes or who had car troubles that may have seemed troublesome at the time, but meant that they were kept just far back enough that they missed that fateful moment. I think it is also a miracle in and of itself that the bridge was under construction at all - the tragedy could have claimed twice as many victims if the entire bridge had been open.

However, many did not. Many were affected, injured, and even killed as the bridge fell 64 feet to the river. Some families are still waiting to find loved ones - and with no way of knowing how many cars were on the bridge or who was in them, it is a wild goose chase as hours pass and the search slowly changes from one for survivors to one for the bodies of the victims still trapped under the wreckage.

So, as the president prepares to come to Minneapolis, as the mayors and senators speak words in an attempt to console those affected and to move forward despite the recent events, and as the community, state, and country try to wrap their minds around what has happened, I can't help but feel that this is another reminder of those tragic hours we spent watching the twin towers collapse. It may not have been an act of terrorism, but it doesn't take someone trying to hurt others for awful things to happen. We pull together and look for ways to support our neighbors. We pray, and we hope that we can come to accept and understand that we live in a world where evil exists, yet still believe that hope and renewal are present for us as well.

So our hearts do go out to those affected by this tragedy - may our prayers and kind thoughts encircle those who are in pain, and support those who risked their lives to help. God bless them.