“Friday.”
“Are you ready?”
He ran his hands up and down his thighs nervously. “My brother and a cousin are going to spend the first month home with me, alternating every week.”
We waited, sensing his need to voice something else. “Dorothy’s funeral is tomorrow morning, and it’s at the cemetery where my family is buried. I want to go, and yet I know it will be painful, excruciating really, but a true test of whether I am ready to join the world again.”
Richard had spoken of the elephant in the room. The funeral. Doc Aimee was taking anyone who wanted to go. Several others from the staff were going also. How would we deal with it?
Dream 15
I sat on the park bench writing in my journal, waiting on God. The tandem bike was parked right next to me and the basket was filled with presents. I wasn’t sure what that was all about, but I had seen that basket feed more than a hundred people all kinds of sandwiches and drinks. It was a miracle basket. I was still amazed but no longer surprised. I had come to expect the unexpected, and I was always filled with wonder at His creativity.
This evening was no different.
The park was busy. Pleasantly so. I watched the others, content in my space, when a young woman joined me on the bench. “Ready to ride?” she asked.
“Yes. I’m just waiting on … my … ah … for God, you know?”
Her smile was wide and inviting. “I’m ready if you are.”
I stared.
She had dark, almost black hair that fell long, thick and straight over her shoulders. She had a slender athletic build and I guessed she would stand at about five foot nine inches or so. A pale peaches and cream complexion. Yet it was the eyes, a deep, dark, blue filled with love and kindness that gave her identity away. She was God.
Still I stammered. “Who..who are you?”
“I am the third member of the Trinity. I am the Helper, the Spirit, the Guide, the Teacher to steer you to the right path.”
“Holy Spirit? Really?”
“Really.”
“Wow. I mean wow. But why now? Will I see God again? I mean the other member of God? Not Jesus, but God the Father? Doesn’t that get confusing?”
She turned toward me, resting her arm along the back of the bench. “You have a lot of questions. And questions need answers or direction to answers. That is my job. To help you listen, to encourage you, to speak on your behalf, whatever is needed to help you on your journey through this life.”
“I’ve never seen you before, or have I?” There was something familiar about her.
“These are unique circumstances, but I have helped you before and will all your life. I live within you and with you always.”
Just listening to her speak soothed me, though I couldn’t pinpoint why. She got up and grabbed the bike, pushing up the kickstand.
“Ready for a ride?”
“Did you put all the presents in the basket?” I asked as I joined her.
“Questions, questions and more questions. Come on. It’s a beautiful night for a ride.”
I went to the back seat of the bike. I had learned that lesson well. If God wanted to go anywhere, He always led, even if He was now a She.
We started off pretty slow and steady, but soon the landscape changed and so did the people. The basket appeared between our seats.
“Give those away,” she said.
I picked up the top box. The tag read: Love, Elizabeth. “What is it?”
“Bits and pieces of you. Let’s stop a moment.”
We pulled over and we were in front of the coffee shop I used to go to regularly. The door opened and Carrie came out, the one who usually waited on me.
“Toss her one,” the Spirit said.
I looked at the box and then Carrie, who was leaning against the front window of the shop looking rather sad. “Really?
“Elizabeth.”
“Hey, Carrie, heads up,” and I tossed the box her way. The silver box with the pink ribbon landed in her hands. She looked around, but didn’t see us. As she opened the box I heard my voice coming out of it saying; ‘I’ll say a prayer for your mom.’
“Her mom has ovarian cancer.” I glanced between Carrie and the Spirit. “I don’t understand.”
“Let’s keep going. Just remember to give the presents away.”
Our ride was smooth and steady. We rode through familiar neighborhoods, places I have lived, worked or played. I tossed the gaily wrapped boxes as we went. I was amazed to hear my voice, my words, or see my hug or touch or even silent presence treated as a gift. Lunch with old friends—three boxes of whispered prayers and hands held.
One box held an extra tip for a waiter, another a smile for the mailman. Others, a place in the line of traffic to a driver, a thank you to the clerk at the dry cleaners, a “Have a blessed day” to the library lady, lending an ear to the Panera cashier and more. I was stunned that the boxes continued to fill the basket and that these brief exchanges were considered gifts.
My glow was dimmed only briefly by a few who shrugged off my gift, who tossed their boxes into the trash, or who shrugged them away. Untouched and unaccepting of my gift.
We arrived back at the bench and I collapsed, exhausted yet exhilarated. It was like the feeling I had when God and I handed out sandwiches.
“Dear Teacher?” I called to her where she stood wiping the bike down with a soft cloth.
“Yes?”
“Help me understand.”
“What questions have you been asking and what did you ask God the Father last night?”
“What does God want me to do?”
“And tonight is your answer. What did you see?”
I thought back over the past hour. “Be kind to people. But even more than that, He wants me to love them all.”
“Good. How were you doing that?”
“By seeing them, knowing them, responding to them, right where we were.”
“Exactly right, Elizabeth.”
Perplexed, I shook my head. “That seems too simple.”
The Holy Spirit laughed. “Yes, it does, doesn’t it?”
“So teach me.”
“Go boldly into your life. Bravely love those you come in contact with, and not just those who love you back or welcome your smiles. You must love and be kind to even the unlovely.”
I remembered those who responded to my gift with indifference or failed to respond at all. “That’s really hard.”
“It does take practice, but I will help. All you have to do is ask me, and I will respond. This is what we want most of all for our children. To love and be loved.”
“Even though we are created in your image, we still manage to hurt each other and that makes loving difficult.”
She joined me on the bench and took my hand in hers. It was a reassuring feminine move and it felt good. “You are quite right. Difficult, but not impossible. And where do you get help for the difficult and even the impossible?”
“You. Him. Jesus.”
“Yes. Ask. Listen. Wait expectantly and the answers will come.”
“Waiting is not my strong point.”
She laughed again, a sound like the most beautiful wind chimes. “He warned me about you.”
Day Sixteen
November 21
Reeling from the visions of last night’s dream, I struggled to stay focused enough to get dressed for Dorothy’s funeral. I did discover that Dorothy was her real name. A family name. I hope the name wasn’t cursed by generations of Dorothy’s being so abused and mistreated.
Mom had packed me a pair of black slacks and a black sweater that was going to be my outfit for the day. It was dreary and cold and the day before Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving. I had lost track of time. Safe Haven was providing turkey and dressing for everyone and
their families. Mom and Dad were coming by at 11:00 tomorrow and then going to my sister’s afterward.
Mabel knocked on the door and came in. “You look nice.”
“Thanks. I feel almost normal.”
“Here,” Mabel handed me a shoebox, “Dorothy’s mom wanted me to give these to you.”
I handed the box back to Mabel. I didn’t need to look inside. “Dorothy should have them.”
Mabel opened the box with the Ruby Red Slippers and pulled out a slip of folded white paper. It had the hospital logo up in the right corner.
“Please give these shoes to Elizabeth. She wants to go home again and they can help her. I hear in her voice the happiness she had there and I think she can be happy again. I cannot. The Lord curses the house of the wicked, but He blesses the home of the righteous.” Proverbs 3:33 NIV
I stood silent, stunned at her wisdom and depth of understanding. Then I smiled. She was still with us, with me, though she had chosen a different path. The slippers gleamed in their satin liner, winking up at me.
“Will you wear them?” Mabel asked.
I nodded. “For Dorothy. For all of us.”
So, I went to Dorothy’s funeral in sedate black clothes wearing the sparkly Ruby Red Slippers. The four of us, Aimee, Richard, Stephen and I, linked arms as we crossed the parking lot to the packed church. Annie had chosen not to go saying the wheelchair was too hard to maneuver—an excuse—but it was okay.
The funeral service was sad, yet lovely. Her parents were heartbroken and cried most of the service. Still I sensed Dorothy’s influence on the songs as “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” played while they wheeled the casket out of the church. That’s when I lost it and started crying also.
Driving through the cemetery, Richard kept his gaze fixed out the window. I wondered if he knew exactly where his family was. Stupid me, of course he did. Tears ran silently down his face and dripped off his chin until Stephen offered him a handkerchief.
At Dorothy’s graveside, the Pastor said another short prayer and then invited her parents to say something. They declined, yet stood next to the casket as the rest of us walked by for one last goodbye.
Then we walked with Richard to his family’s graves. He sank to the ground as if his legs could no longer support him and I stepped forward to go to him, but Aimee caught my arm and shook her head. “Let him try to do this himself.”
“Okay,” I whispered, though my heart broke for him.
Dream 16
I was quiet tonight and wasn’t surprised to find myself on the beach bench under the bright full moon with very few people around. The sound of the waves soothed my tender heart and spirit.
She sat quietly with me, the Holy Spirit. I remembered the first few nights spent with Father God, sharing Oreos and milk and other goodies. He had always been feeding me. It felt like ages since those nights when I was closed off from feeling anything except anger and desperate sadness.
“You have grown. You are finding yourself again.”
“I’m alive.” I said, but not with joy or thanksgiving.
“Yes. Just because Richard felt guilty for being alive and you did not, does not mean he loved his family more than you.”
“But I tried to commit suicide to escape the pain, not because I felt guilty for being alive. Will guilt ambush me later?”
“No. You did not play any role in your husband and daughter’s death. You weren’t supposed to go, nor did you suggest they go. It was their regular daddy-daughter time and it was an accident. Richard’s was an accident too, but he was there.”
“So why am I feeling like this is all a temporary fix? Did Dorothy know something the rest of us haven’t realized? Is it ridiculous for us to think we can get out of here and live any kind of normal life?”
“What’s normal?”
“I have no idea.”
“That’s right. You are going to create a new normal. You have decisions to make about where to live, work, play, and go to church. Decisions about what will help you remain close to us. But we will be with you, all you have to do is ask.”
I shook my head, silent. Richard was leaving Friday. And it scared me because I knew my turn was coming. I would reach my thirty days and be sent home to try my wings without the structured and secure environment of Safe Haven. Would I fail?
“This is all too hard.”
“Tonight it seems that way because you are aching with the loss of Dorothy. Some days will be that way. Just remember what Aimee has taught you.”
I ticked them off on my fingers. “Rest. Eat. Pray. Take my meds. Call someone. Exercise. Go to the group meetings. And if none of that helps, then go in and see Aimee.”
“I am always available.”
“But I won’t see you like this, will I? I mean this is a special gig, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Elizabeth, but even if these are special circumstances, you will be as important to me then as you are now.”
Day Seventeen
November 22 Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving Day dawned cold and rainy. I don’t mind cold weather, but the rain I could have done without. My mood matched the weather – dismal. Mabel and Doc were off today to be with their families. Those who were working today were attempting to be in the holiday spirit. Which meant I had to endure Cindy-Lou-Who’s cheerful self.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Elizabeth! How are you this fine morning?”
“Fine?” I pulled the curtains aside. “What do you see out there?”
“Rain to nourish the earth. Air to breathe. Growing plants and trees and grass …”
I raised my hand to silence her. “Okay. I get it.”
“Are you going to get breakfast? Richard and Annie were looking for you.”
“Tell them I’ll be down in a minute.”
I dressed quickly in jeans and a sweatshirt, though to be honest I really did not want to see anyone. Still, my stomach was growling and I needed to eat.
The Ruby Red slippers winked again at me from the bottom of my closet as I slipped my feet into my Keds. She was really gone. I hadn’t asked God about her. Scared, I think, of what He might say. Still I’m not sure if He would even answer or just give me one of those “my ways are not your ways, my thoughts are not your thoughts” kind of answers.
The cafeteria was busy. No one had scheduled appointments or group sessions or doctor visits today because of the holiday. And some already had visitors. Annie waved to me from across the room and I wove in-between the tables and people to reach her and Richard.
I leaned down and hugged the black woman who had become so precious to me in such a short period of time. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“And to you, dear child.”
I held out my hand to Richard, which he took in both of his. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Thank you. And to you too.”
“I see you are both taking advantage of the extra goodies this morning.” The table was covered with food and an empty plate set before my chair.
Richard picked up his fork and pointed at the full table. “We didn’t want to go back, and we wanted enough for you.”
“Thanks.” Sharing food is an intimate thing. I remember reading an article about that once upon a time. I had shared it with Sean and Hannah, and then they both had begun stealing food from my plate and then each other’s plate. It wouldn’t have been so funny if we had been in our own kitchen, but at the time we had been dining out at Ruby Tuesday’s. We had all gotten the giggles, and the waitress had been a bit skeptical of approaching the table.
I froze. Napkin in my lap. Fork in my hand. Head bowed to whisper a prayer. I froze at the memory and the smile on my face.
“Is something wrong?” asked Annie. “Do you see something in your food?”
I looked up at them both.
“Nothing like that. I just had
a memory of Sean and Hannah, and I’m smiling instead of crying.”
They both remained silent, watching me. Uncertainty lurked on their faces.
“I think that’s a good thing.”
Annie resumed eating. “You need to share that with group tomorrow.”
“Are we having session? I thought we were having a casual getting-out-of-here party for Richard.”
“Yeah,” Richard said, “but I think this is something you should share.”
“Okay.” I ate hungrily for a few moments, glancing around to see who had company. I spotted Stephen in the far corner with an older couple. They looked really serious. As I watched, Stephen seemed to be trying to convince them of something, but the older man just shook his head.
“That’s Stephen’s parents,” Annie said. “They don’t approve of him being in here. They wanted him to come to their church and let their Elders lay hands on him. I’m surprised they came today.”
“It’s hard for older people to change their ways,” I said. “Especially if this is what they have been taught all their life. It’s easy to say ‘We don’t believe in this or that’ until this or that happens to you or your child.”
“What about you?” Richard asked. “How do your folks feel about you being in this place?”
“My parents would have put me in here three months ago.” I put down my fork and pushed my empty plate back, leaning forward with elbows on the table. “Are you excited about tomorrow?”
“Actually, I am. My brother is coming to get me and he is going to stay with me this first full week. Then Shane, my cousin, is coming next weekend to stay a week. The family support is really, really good.”
“But …”
He glanced between me and Annie, who paused in eating the last bite of her waffle. “Not all of my extended family is as supportive. Sara’s family still has issues about me not being charged with negligent homicide. My lawyer has been in contact with Jarrod, my brother, and he has the information on the lawsuit at the house.”
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