Mrs. Robbins lifted a flap in the back of the pillow and turned a small knob as the pillow started ticking. “Listen,” she said as she held it to my ear.
“It’s a clock!” I exclaimed, having no idea what her plan might be.
“That’s right,” said Mrs. Robbins. “If you put the clock pillow in the bed with Spirit, he will think it is his mother’s heartbeat. It will soothe him until he is able to fall asleep. He might cry when you first put him to bed, but the clock will help. It’s an old trick my mother taught me with my first dog, and it’s worked with every pup I had since.”
I was skeptical and certain that allowing Spirit to sleep in my bed would be a much better solution. But I gave Mrs. Robbins a big hug and thanked her for her thoughtfulness. It wasn’t long after I opened her gifts that Mrs. Robbins stood to leave.
“Spirit and I could walk you to the house,” I offered cheerfully.
“That won’t be necessary, dear. I found my way here; I can find my way back.”
Mother huffed and shook her head. I was a little bit hurt, but I didn’t want my mom to know, so I gave Mrs. Robbins another hug and thanked her again for the gifts. My mother shut the door behind Mrs. Robbins as soon as she stepped out and then muttered something under her breath. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I suspected it wasn’t complimentary.
“How about if the three of us play awhile in the yard?” she suggested.
I was quick to answer yes.
It was a picture-perfect day, and the sun shone brightly through the trees as we played with Spirit for hours. He was quite worn out when lunchtime rolled around. We fed him from his new bowls and then put him in his quilted bed for a nap. I laid down on the floor next to him to keep him company, but he was out like a light before I knew it. I leaned closer to his face to smell his sweet puppy breath as he dozed.
“Let’s leave him alone for a bit and have our lunch outside,” Mom suggested.
I got up as quietly as possible and tiptoed to the door, careful not to disturb my precious Spirit.
CHAPTER 4
AS SPIRIT SLEEPS
Mother took a big quilted blanket outside and spread it under the elm tree that stood near the kitchen door. “We can hear him from here,” she said, with a smile. Then we settled beneath the tree as a light breeze carried the scent of lilacs and hyacinth in the air.
“Can we plant a vegetable garden this year?” I asked out of the blue.
“You mean aside from Myrtle’s garden?”
Myrtle’s was a very large garden situated in an area that couldn’t be seen from the main house but was in clear view from the cottage. It yielded an abundant crop each year of corn, carrots, cucumbers, cauliflower, and squash that was far more than the three mouths living on the estate could eat. My mother would stash bushels of vegetables away in the barn for the people who worked on the property to take home for their families. It was a covert operation that had to be kept secret from Mrs. Robbins, who was against any kind of charity and was particularly opposed to giving things away to people she already employed. Had she gotten wind of my mother’s underground mission, she might have plowed over the garden and fired all the workers rather than give them food that would otherwise go to waste.
“I think it would be fun to have a small garden of our own that we could take care of together. We could plant things like cherry tomatoes. I love cherry tomatoes! And maybe some green beans.”
“Well…the fun is often in the planning. It’s the planting that can be a chore. But it’s a good idea,” she said, without committing. Then she asked, “Don’t you like Myrtle’s vegetables?”
“It’s not that,” I said. “I guess it would just be nice to have a garden that was all our own.” I glanced around the property that belonged to Mrs. Robbins, knowing that the garden wouldn’t be ours, even if we were the ones who planted it. “We could share our vegetables with Mrs. Robbins. She might like that. And we could add some to the ones you give to the workers. I’m sure that would make them happy.”
My mother sat up and looked around nervously. “Shh!” she whispered. “You must never let Myrtle know about that. Promise me, Lily; it’s very important.”
“I know,” I said. “I just thought that—”
She frowned as she held her finger to her lips and shook her head.
“Okay,” I said. And another secret was safe with me.
My mother’s eyes surveyed the property in search of an ideal spot for the garden. “Let’s clear an area next to the big garden. The soil is perfect there, and it will be easy to add an extra row or two,” she reasoned.
“Do you think it will be okay with Mrs. Robbins?”
“She’ll never even know it’s there,” she said.
Mother’s eyes twinkled as she spread our lunches on the blanket. It was clear to me that she had something more than a picnic up her sleeve.
“Did you know,” she asked with a playful smile, “that Mira’s mother and grandmother were great gardeners?”
“Is that so?” I said, happily playing along.
“Oh yes,” she began excitedly. “And outstanding cooks as well. Every meal was made from the delicious fruits and vegetables that were picked each day from their garden. The Two were intuitively aware of the generosity and wisdom of Mother Nature, and they treated her precious resources with profound respect and appreciation. And being a good and faithful Mother, she reciprocated with an overflowing bounty of nutritious food that nurtured their bodies as well as their souls.”
I took a bite of my PB and J as I waited for her story to unfold.
“The Two were busy from dusk until dawn, but they were never tired of their chores. They gave each one an equal measure of love, care, and attention. Using their gifts for the common good was as natural as breathing for Mira’s family, and they delighted in the joy that their contributions brought to those who were less fortunate or in a season of need. Amazingly, everything they put their hands and hearts to was multiplied far beyond their needs. This gift was known as the miracle of provision, and it was available to anyone who relied upon the wisdom and power of the One for all things. For He was abundant in His provision, and they, in turn, gave joyfully to others.” My mother paused as she glanced at the abundance all around her. A sadness appeared in her eyes that looked like regret; her voice was somber when she spoke again.
“Most of the world had stopped trusting in the One. Some questioned His existence, while others questioned His motivations. Still others questioned why they needed Him at all. Those were the ones who believed the Enemy’s lies that they were superior to others and entitled to whatever they cared to take. Even if they had no right to it.” She shook her head as she surveyed all that was around her.
“But the Enemy’s lie took away more than it gave, and many people had to strive very hard every single day for things they didn’t need, sacrificing time that could have been spent with those who loved them for the promise of things that had no value at all.”
The sorrow I heard in my mother’s voice suddenly filled me with immeasurable despair. I thought for a moment I might be swallowed by my helplessness. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the entire world was about to explode into a zillion pieces while I sat frozen in self-imposed fear. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and my mother was quick to recognize the signs of anxiety that were about to consume me. As usual she came to my rescue just in the nick of time.
“But that was not the case with Mira’s family,” she chortled in a cartoon voice. “Heaven’s no! Why, their very existence created a powerful, positive energy that benefited every living thing and generated unprecedented kindness and immeasurable love.”
I snapped back to life at the sound of her bright, animated voice and took a deep, cleansing breath to expel the bad air from my lungs.
“Go on,” I said with a big grin.
Mother smiled but kept her eye on me as she continued.
“The Two were highly regarded for their culinary
skills, but their gifts extended far beyond those found in their kitchen, for they were known both far and wide as the most accomplished and talented seamstresses who ever lived. Anyone and everyone from Everywhere, Anywhere, and Beyond longed for the privilege to own a mere swatch of cloth that was created by the Two.”
My ears perked up as I heard the unspoken word “fashion” being uttered. I was secretly hoping that there was a surprise in store that included a drastic change to my wardrobe. This was just wishful thinking, of course, as the subject of my wardrobe had never come up and hadn’t seemed very important until recently. But I had begun to feel self-conscious about my clothes, as they were noticeably different than those of the popular kids at school. Theirs were made by famous designers and were far more expensive than the no-name brands I wore. Of course, that was how you knew they were popular. You had to have the right clothes to be part of the in crowd, as it was the first step in even being noticed. Which, I never was or would be, if my wardrobe didn’t change.
Not that I wasn’t grateful for the clothes I had. They were very nice in many ways. But they were more my mother’s taste than my own, and of course, they fit into our very limited budget.
Many times, when we went shopping, Mom would steer me clear of things she wasn’t fond of or couldn’t afford by saying, “That color’s not right for you,” or “You’ll be tired of that before we get out of the store.”
I never knew why I had to get what she wanted instead of what I wanted. But I didn’t want to offend or upset her, so I did my best to be satisfied with what I’d been given. Still I wished she would ask me if there was something I’d like better. I was secretly hoping she was leading up to that now.
“Everyone marveled at the clothing they made, as they were not only wonderful to look at, but they were delightful to wear. Folks oohed and ahhed when they put on something made by the Two.
“Many had been heard to say, ‘I don’t ever want to wear anything else,’ and some, it turns out, never did.
“For the true magic of anything made by the Two was in its ability to last forever yet always look brand new. The secret to this phenomenon was in the combination of two enormously creative spirits who were equally blessed with highly practical minds. Although they were capable of creating the next craze in fashion, they knew that fashion would always go out of style and was quickly replaced. So, they stuck with the formula that worked for centuries by focusing on function, form, and comfort as they set out to poke through piles of plains, plaids, and patterns, picking just the right materials for the best garment ever made and making it last forever.”
I squinted as I looked toward the sun and watched the clouds pass under the boughs of the great tree. My thoughts had begun to wander, which did not go unnoticed by my mother, who cleared her throat to get my attention. “Sorry,” I said mechanically, and she meandered on.
“Another gift of the miraculous Two was their sensitivity to things that most people take for granted or pay absolutely no attention to.
“‘Everyone is happier when they have a place where they belong,’ Grammy would say. They believed this was true of all things, especially those that coexisted in one’s home.”
I was trying hard to look as though I was paying attention, but something unsettling had been churning around in my head. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but it prevented me from processing my mother’s words.
“This, for instance,” I thought I heard her say, “was the way the Two dealt with the family’s clothes.”
Then I drifted back to the clouds as the still unidentified, nagging thought gnawed its way through the back of my brain.
“Shirts, shorts, skirts, slacks, and shoes were each assigned their own space in a closet or drawer, which, amazingly enough, added to their immeasurable comfort. This happens because everything has an energy that is either positive or negative. And when things are surrounded by things they are most complimented by, they transmit positive energy that is experienced by everyone and everything around them.
“Just think about that for a moment,” she commanded.
I blinked several times to refocus before turning my gaze back to her.
“Creating a space where everything belonged was a very wise and thoughtful thing to do.”
“Wait a minute,” I said as the troublesome notion revealed itself. “They wore the same clothes all the time? How is that possible?” I didn’t know where the story was going, but it was clear that it was not leading up to a new wardrobe for me. “Who would want to wear the same clothes forever? I mean…seriously! You’d be bored stiff just getting dressed every day.” My irrational anger thumped hard in my chest, and my mouth was suddenly as dry as a bone.
“Well…I’m afraid I don’t know what to say.” My mother handed me a glass of lemonade. “But you’ve made a very good point. I can see that wearing the same clothes every day might not be very exciting.”
“Humph! That’s an understatement,” I huffed.
“Yes, but if you can stay with me for just a moment, I think I can redeem the story.”
I shifted back to a cross-legged position and waited with a smug look still plastered on my face.
“Having a place where clothes, furniture, pots, pans, and all things useful belonged kept everyone happy and comfortable in the not-too-big-not-too-small house on the hill,” she finally began. “Some things stayed in the house forever, while others were passed on to folks from Anywhere, Everywhere, and Beyond who needed them more than Mira’s family did. When that time came, they were thanked for their long and faithful service then placed in the hands of a new, loving family who welcomed them into their home with extraordinary joy.”
“But what about the clothes?” I asked arrogantly as I cross-examined my mother. “Did Mira get new clothes or not?” I was losing my patience and was certain she could never answer my question without retracting her original statement.
“Yes, dear.” She chuckled. “She got new clothes.”
I waited.
“But never more than she needed.”
Bingo! I thought as I braced for the lesson that was bound to follow.
“Mira’s mother and grandmother were very considerate of all things, not just people. Naturally they loved Mira with all their hearts and wanted her to be happy and, above all else, healthy. But they knew that love is not measured in possessions. More of something, especially when it is not used or needed, is not only wasteful, it is most disrespectful. So, when Mira outgrew a piece of clothing either in size or in taste, the old was removed from its place and replaced with the new.”
That’s reasonable, I thought, careful not to give away my approval.
“But there was never more put back than what was taken. So a single pair of new pants would be neatly placed in the space that the original pair occupied. One pair of pants would never be replaced by two, as that would create an overcrowded condition for all the clothing, and that would never do. It would soon result in a pile of sad, unused, and terribly uncomfortable clothing spilling out of drawers or falling from their hangers, lying in crumpled heaps on the floor, where they would be overlooked or purposely ignored. How very sad for the clothing who wanted nothing more than to be useful.” She wore a sorrowful look. “You can see how that could create quite a problem, right?”
I suddenly wished I had picked up my clothes from my bedroom floor instead of allowing her to do it.
“Yes, I see,” I muttered.
“Good,” she exclaimed more cheerfully than I believed was warranted. “Then there’s just one more point that needs to be made.”
Oh, give it up! I said in desperation—but not out loud, of course.
“Everything had a purpose and a place in Mira’s not-too-big-not-too-small house because in that way, everything was part of her perfect family.
“‘Love and care for all things,’ Mira’s father would say, ‘giving thanks to the One Who Provides, for everything we have comes from Him.’”
&nb
sp; I was about to ask her about the One Who Provides, but my tolerance for lessons was running low, so I decided to leave it for another time. Anyway, it was my birthday! And I wanted to play with my dog.
“Shouldn’t we check on Spirit?” I asked, ensuring the story would end for the time being.
“Absolutely,” she replied agreeably. “You go on inside. I’ll take care of this.”
She gathered up the paper plates, napkins, and leftovers as I ran into the house, where I found Spirit squatting near his bed, a yellow stream trickling behind him.
“Spirit!” I cried as Mother dropped everything and ran toward the door. Spirit was not quite finished when she burst into the kitchen.
“Oh,” she sighed with relief. “I guess I forgot about this part.” She laughed and then rolled her eyes. “We have to potty train him,” she said.
“Potty train him?” An image of him sitting on a toilet passed through my mind. “How are we supposed to do that?”
“Well, the first thing we have to do is clean up this mess.” She handed Spirit to me, and I sneered at the pee that was dripping from his back paws. “Hold on, I’ll get some paper towels.” She stepped over the stream to get to the sink while both Spirit and I stood suspended in space.
I was much less disgusted after she wiped his wet paws with damp towels, although my expression hadn’t changed, as the scent of fresh urine wafted through the air.
“Yuck!” I blurted.
“Take Spirit outside for a while. I think he needs to get the smell of grass, so he knows where his bathroom is.”
I was happy to get out of the kitchen, and I’m sure Spirit was as well. My mother joined us after cleaning up and explained that the best way to train Spirit not to go in the house was to get him on a schedule of going outside.
“He’s just a puppy, so he’s bound to have accidents, but a dog’s instinct is to do their business outside. If we are very diligent about a bathroom routine, it shouldn’t take him long before he lets us know when he needs to go out. In the meantime, I think we’ll confine him to the laundry room and make sure there are plenty of newspapers for him to squat on. And during the day, we’ll keep the door open, so he has fresh air and can get a good whiff of the lovely lawn that’s waiting for him.”
A Face Without a Reflection Page 4