Ever run barefoot down a dirt path? I mean RUN, not another thought in your mind, just running. Then, next thing you know, BURDOCKS! Thousands, well at least hundreds, they just stick to you…No Kidding! That’s just the way life was sometimes. Once in awhile you could jump over these obstacles or sometimes they just stuck right to you.1
I remember springtime in the flower garden and the dew lining up along the crest of each leaf waiting for its turn to make its passing to the ground. Sometimes, if I were in the right mood, I would sit and stare at them for hours. Watch them fall. It seemed that some of them would take the whole afternoon to hit the grass. As soon as it was over it was the next one’s turn. So on and so on. Small, glistening droplets of dew perched aimlessly at the top just waiting to make their descent, nourishing the garden so that the flowers will bloom. That first flower getting all the attention too soon and, then, dying before it can share fully in the beauty of the garden.2
There always seems to be that first flower in the garden. The one that springs up right away, having to be seen. Being so majestic, so full of grandeur and being the only color in the garden. So full of itself, but then realizing that standing alone and naked against Old Man Winter’s last snowfall was too much pain to bear. Seeing everything else come into place together, sharing in the beauty of the whole. Yet, for the first flower, it would only be able to take part in this most spectacular time a short while. For, what being there first and alone gave it, it also takes away. This flower would not be able to share in the splendor of the garden very long.3
Maybe this is Mother Nature’s way of mimicking life, showing us what things could be like, pointing out our flaws, giving us all the answers if we would only look around us and take notice. It seems as though this means something more to me now than it did at fourteen. Maybe that’s what your mind does to you. It shows you things throughout your youth so that you may reflect on them as you get older.4
Maybe I just had too much time on my hands. I’ve told this story every year now for at least the past eight years, each class getting a slightly altered version of the original. The story is always just a little different. This year, I remembered the garden. Last year, it was the old farmhouse. It doesn’t matter which beginning each has gotten, they all shared the same ending. It is all about love and sharing, the importance of unity and how they were taught to me. I teach sixth grade, and every year around Christmas time, I share this story with a new group of children, a chapter from my own childhood.5
I grew up a fast learner and, everything my dad taught me, I remembered. He showed me the things I couldn’t learn in school. Like how to keep the toilet from running all the time and the lawnmower cutting for one more year. My father would and could fix just about anything. Not because he liked to so much, but out of necessity. We were poor and we didn’t have much, so what we did have was kept working until it became too expensive or old to fix. Neither one of us knew at the time that all the things he taught me would be put to use. You see, my dad wouldn’t be with us much longer. But that’s getting ahead of the story.6
I was the oldest son of four children. Ultimately, it would be my responsibility to take care of certain things when the time came. Like that first flower in the garden, all my father’s dreams would end too soon. And it would be us, his family, that would be left standing alone and naked. Before he left though, he would teach me and my brothers and sisters everything we needed to know about love, family, and how important it was to stay together. What he couldn’t teach us, he left to our mom who would carry his torch until the day she passed away, also. Our mom, who this story is really all about, was able to carry on where Dad left off and was able to watch us all grow into young adults. His undying love for her would spill out over the years, bringing us together as a family, teaching us the true meaning of the words: Unconditional Love.7
They say that there are people made for each other, soul mates so to speak. My father always said that he and my mother were lucky to find each other. That it was unfair to have only one lifetime to find and share with that one special person. The one truly meant for you. My mom always said that you would be able to tell. She explained that it was something in the eyes, like two stars streaking across the nighttime sky. She would say, “I don’t know how to explain it any more clearly, but you will know. It’s not like the puppy eyes you have when you think you’re in love. It’s much deeper, a gaze that can span across rooms.” She always said, “It’s not like those sparkly eyes you see in the movies. It’s more like a glow, almost a feeling.” So that’s the way it was, the way it began. With my father and mother and us kids, one very lucky family, my family.8
Dirt was a common thing where I grew up. That’s why when you dropped your candy bar on the ground, you just picked it up, wiped it off, and started eating without even thinking twice about it. Because as common as dirt was, my having a candy bar meant it was Christmas or I just spent the afternoon working at old man Oliver’s farm! Well, since it was the middle of June, Christmas was a long way off. Besides, the chaff on my clothes was a dead giveaway that I sweated the day away in the haylofts. I didn’t care. All I knew was that candy bar was the sweetest tasting thing (next to Mom’s honey caramel sweet rolls - another thing that only came once a year) I had ever tasted. I didn’t feel guilty about eating it either. After all, my brother and sisters couldn’t see me. Besides, I had worked hard for it. Yet, I would always save a piece for my younger brother and sister. They were too young to work and always appreciated the treat. Not to mention, it always made me feel good to share with them.9
I did manage to pick up some powdered milk, two loaves of bread and some peanut butter that I heard my mom say we needed. So, everything was good. The bread and peanut butter would be dinner tonight, with some left over for lunch the next day. Any money that hadn’t been spent would be given to my mom to use as she saw fit. Things were really bad after Dad died. It was all my mom could do to keep a roof over our heads. Thankfully, the house we lived in was purchased when dad was still alive. Mom and Dad had dreams for it, but dreams are what they are, just dreams. So, now that he was gone, we had to do all we could do just to keep the cold out. Any clothes given to us that didn’t fit were used to fill the holes in the walls and the cracks under the doors so we wouldn’t freeze in the winter. We all helped out Mom and each other all we could. It was the right thing to do. Besides, Dad wouldn’t have had it any other way.10
Did you ever have one of those feelings? I mean, one of those thoughts that you seem to dwell on, like hearing a song first thing in the morning and then you just can’t get it out of your head until you lie down to sleep at night. It was like that with Dad. Even though he’s been gone for years now, I still think of him each and every day. Sometimes, you just don’t know which direction the meter’s going. How many of us know our fathers, know what he’s been through, know the pain and joy he carries inside? I rest my case. So, whatever I felt was right in my heart, whatever I felt he would want me to do, I would do. When Mom said it was time to do something, it was time, and we all helped. No matter how big or small the task, we all pitched in. After all, we only had each other and we were a family. I loved doing what I could. Call it torture or feeling sorry, it doesn’t matter, as long as I was involved. And I was always involved!!!!!! My mom was able to keep busy and try to make ends meet by cleaning or doing laundry for some of the more well-to-do people in town. They knew they could trust her since my father had gained their respect. They all knew that she wouldn’t be any different. Sometimes, when Mr. Russell would need help down at his store, he would call on my mom to help. This way, she could work for groceries or the things she would stash away in the cupboard. We didn’t know it then, but the reason the cupboard always stayed locked would come to light in later years. Then, as we got older, we would all contribute throughout the year as well. We would never tell each other what we had added, though. That way, when it was opened, we would all be equally surprised. So begins the story of the cupboard. What the children of my family would remember as The Christmas Cupboard.11
When you didn’t have much, everything seemed special. You learned that there was no shame in a bag of hand-me-downs. In fact, some of the stuff Mom would bring home still had the tags on it. I could never figure out why uptown people did this. Did their moods change that quickly? Wrong color, gifts they were too busy to return? Either way, we would end up with them, so at least their purchases wouldn’t go unappreciated.12
Like I said, I was the oldest son of four children. There was my younger brother, Garrett. He was eight years old. My younger sister, Lynn, was six. Then there was my older sister, Jenny. We called her Jen, for short, and she was fifteen. As for me, I’m Nicholas. Everyone calls me Nick, though, and I was fourteen. Then, of course, there was Mom. Her name is Sara. We grew up at the end of a dirt road about a mile from town. Most of the people with any money to speak of lived right in town. They worked in the city, for the most part. To get to work they would either get there by car or take a train down at the station house. It was quite a commute, but I guess they just liked living so close to the country. I couldn’t blame them much, either.13
It was pretty quiet out by our house. We had some neighbors and most were families just like us, too. Yet, the thing that seemed to be missing in them was the closeness my family shared. Some of the dads drank too much. Sometimes, it was both parents who drank too much. Some just seemed plain lazy, always looking for that pot of gold or the next get rich quick scheme that would transport them from the dust of our dirt road to the blacktop and big city lights.14
Like us, some of the kids on our side of the tracks only had one parent. They’d either lost someone through death or from just plain running out on them. Mom would tell us kids that none of it was their fault. It was just one of the hardships of being poor, it seemed. The only thing I knew was, if helping each other and sticking together was a hardship of being poor, then why didn’t it affect us the same way as it did so many others?15
Growing up as we did, the holidays were always a special time around our house. It wasn’t because of the material things we received. We were poor, so we never got a lot of presents. It was the way it brought our family together even more than usual. The bonds that tied us together seemed to grow even stronger around the holidays. From Thanksgiving on up to Christmas, we grew stronger as a family.16
Mom was active in the church, always helping out when she could. So, the rest of us helped too. It was a place where we could socialize with our friends and, it seemed, the church always had something going on. Since Dad had passed away, we spent every Thanksgiving at the church. We would help set up for the annual dinner, dish out the food and clean up afterwards. We all looked forward to the big dinner the church offered and we made sure to give thanks to God for what we received that day. Parishioners would also bring us a couple bags of groceries around the holidays. From this, Mom would save what she could for our Christmas dinner. Then, after Christmas mass, we would all come home and sit around the table for our Christmas feast.17
One year, the church brought a bag full of toys. I remember Mom telling the pastor that we didn’t need them and that he should give them to the children of the families less fortunate. As kids, we never understood what she meant by this. Jen was especially confounded, since there were so many things she wanted. I remember her pleading with Mom one time to at least let us look and see what was in the bags. Mom would always say that there was no sense in tempting ourselves only to send them back anyway. Jen screamed at her and told her she wasn’t being fair. She told Mom that she was only thinking of herself, not the rest of us. Mom would just turn around and tell us that fortune in a family wasn’t measured by how much money you had in your bank account or how many presents you had under your Christmas tree. This infuriated Jen even more. So she started in on how much she hated being poor, hated her life and how things would be so much different if Dad was still alive. The last part of her tirade shot right through my mom. You could just tell by the look on her face. She looked at Jen first and, then, at the rest of us. Tears started to form quickly in her eyes. She told us how sorry she was to make us all feel this way. Then, she turned around and walked out the door. We didn’t know what to say. We all just looked at Jenny, stunned. She looked at us, started crying and told us how sorry she was for what she had done. Then all four of us ran out the front door to find Mom.18
It took us a while before we found her. Finally, we heard her crying and could hear her talking to someone out in the backyard. Maybe it wasn’t right, spying on her like we did. But we were kids and couldn’t help ourselves. We all got very quiet and hid there on the side of the house so we could hear who it was she was talking to and what was being said.19
Huddled together in silence, we heard her say, “God this is Sara. I know I shouldn’t be talking to you like this, but why, Lord? Why? Did you have to take Will? He was a good man, Lord. He was a husband and a father and we all miss him so much.” Mom was sobbing by now. “It’s just not fair, Lord. You expect us to carry on alone and without him here. Every day is a struggle just to get through. How strong do you think we are? Couldn’t you see how much we needed him? How much we depended on him? He was all we had, Lord. He was all that kept us from falling apart. How could you be so unfair?” Mom stopped there for a while and became real quiet. Her crying began to soften and the sobs lessened. We all figured that we had better get back inside the house quickly, so we snuck unnoticed around to the front of the house and tiptoed inside.20
After about twenty minutes or so, Mom came back into the house. Her eyes were still red from crying. We were all sitting on the couch and, when she stopped in the doorway, Jenny ran up to her and threw her arms around her tightly. She sobbed loudly, “Mom, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t mean what I said. I love you Mom and I love my brothers and sister too.” Mom patted Jen’s back and gently stroked her head, “I know you didn’t mean it Jen. Don’t worry now, its okay. We all have to vent sometimes. We all miss Dad very much.” Garrett looked up at Mom and said, “Where’d you go, Momma?” She looked at him and smiled, “I just went to have a little talk with God, honey.” Garrett paused and then quietly asked, “What did He say, Momma?” Mom sighed and said, “God told me not to be worried. He said that we still have each other and that everyday we carry your dad in our hearts. He told me that your dad misses us, too.” With those words, Mom smiled, reached out her arms and closed all of us in the circle of her hug.21
That was the last time we ever talked about the bags of presents from the church. From then on, when someone showed up with an armful of gifts, it was Jenny that met them at the door and said that we were very grateful for the thought, but we didn’t need them. She would ask that they please take them to a family that was less fortunate. Jenny would always add, “You see, fortune in a family isn’t measured by how much money you have in the bank or by how many presents you have under the tree. It is measured by how much love you carry in your hearts for one another.” Then, she would shut the door. Lynn and Garrett would start giggling. Mom would simply try to hide her smile.22
Sometimes in life, we have to learn to accept certain situations whether we want to or not. We can’t let life’s hardships drag us down to the point of giving up, just as we can’t let the good things keep us in the clouds. Somewhere, there’s a point in the middle where gratitude and acceptance meet.23
It seemed that’s the way it was with us kids. None of us liked the idea of our father passing on. We just accepted it as part of God’s greater plan. On the other hand, we were blessed by his choosing of the woman who was to be his wife and our mother. She taught us that our station in life was not any different than anyone else’s. Everything we had was what we made of it in the end. Our being poor really wasn’t any different than being rich. It just meant that we learned to do a lot more with a lot less. It also taught us that just as the people with money had to work hard to kept it, we had to work just as hard to gain it. It taught us that we should not feel animosity towards anyone. For as many people that there were better off than we were, there were just as many worse off, too. This is what our mother taught us. This was a gift for which we were all grateful.24
If I could turn back turn time back and say just one thing to my father, it would be to thank him for giving us kids our mother.25
In the woods behind our house, there was a place where I spent my quiet time. I didn’t have a lot of time to myself, but every once in a while, I would slip back to my favorite spot under an old oak tree and just watch, listen and appreciate everything.26
Did you ever wonder why an ant, a small and seemingly insignificant creature, would spend all its time and effort trying to move something four times its size across what seems like miles of rough terrain? It’s not like it woke up that morning and thought, “Let’s see, if I go out today and find a rock four times my size and drag it back to my anthill, I could put it right out front and paint my house number on it.” It just doesn’t work that way. There is a reason for all its hard work. The thing that always made me think was how those ants never gave up, no matter how hard the task or how many obstacles were in the way. It just worked harder. No matter how many hardships it encountered, it never gave up. Was that Mother Nature again trying to show us that we would have to work for anything in life that we truly needed? That no matter how many obstacles are in our way, giving up is not an option? Was nature trying to show us something? Was God trying to show us the answers? Teaching us by example, perhaps? Have we made our lives so complicated that we refuse to see the things that are right in front of us? Maybe the answers we need don’t take thousands of words to sum up. Maybe everything we’re looking for in life can be explained in one sentence, maybe even one word......27
to be continued...28
Peace Abel29
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
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Excellent Read
Abel, this story is magical
It speaks directly to the heart. It is simple beauty that illuminates the darkness. All I can say is, I can't wait to see what happens next.
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This is absolutely phenomenal, you know...
I truly hope that people take the time to read the story. It is well worth it. It's funny, the more times I have read this one, the more i like it...and i, personally, cannot wait for the rest of the story.
You have created a very vivid image of a family here and i want to see what more "Nick" will have to say.
This whole thing reminds me of growing up...and what my mother ALWAYS said...She'd say...We may not have very much in money or things, but we have plenty of love...and that's what really counts.
With my little girl, the message that i try so hard to instill in her is the one i feel i get from this story...if you were to ask her, "What's the most important thing?" she'd answer..."people"...or..."love"...and yeah, that's what it's all about.
Thank you for always sharing such beautiful insights
Ann
Edited on Nov 30, 10:29 p.m. because 'ack...a typo!'.
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