The Recluse (Part XIII)

“I really don’t know why you invited that Williams woman to our dinner party. Obviously, she prefers being alone to socializing.” Tony scolded Maria while getting plates from the cupboard. “Ey Tony! You are too hard on that poor woman. You should be ashamed. She has been so good for our Alisha.” Maria responds as she always does to Tony’s criticism of others, by pointing out their goodness. Tony comes back as is his habit with self-justification, “Well, I for one am thankful that school is about to start and Alisha will have less time to spend over there. I’ve heard things about that woman’s family and background. No matter how harmless she seems, I’m just not comfortable. You are too quick to dismiss the darker side of people, Maria. She isn’t even a Christian. How can she be the right kind of influence for our daughter?” Maria wiping her hands on a dish-towel looks up into her husband’s face, “Anthony, our Lord requires more than that of us. There is no one beyond His power to mend. Do you remember where He found us? Look what He’s done for us, Tony! He can do the same for poor Estelle!”

Tony silenced by the reprimand chooses not to reply but instead, keep his judgments to himself. Maria’s correction however, triggers memories of his childhood. Shadowy remembrances of a life colored by alcohol, drugs, and abuse; a childhood characterized by spiritual and material poverty. That sad existence that required him to grow up too fast and fashioned him into a protector, the man of the house long before he became a man. The hefty responsibility nearly crushed those small shoulders but somehow, he grew accustomed to it and bore the weight. Now as an adult, Tony doesn’t sense anything wrong in taking on more than belongs to him. He isn’t conscious of being controlling because he sees his actions as necessary to prevent horrors from his past repeating themselves in the present. He is determined not to let any of those things hurt his precious wife and daughter. “Maria is so naïve and trusting. No matter what she says, I am watching that woman. I won’t let my guard down. I could never live with myself if I let…that happen to Alisha.” Tony pushed the flash-back of his childhood trauma to the side, where it constantly resides, influencing every thought and decision he makes.

The tinkling chime of the doorbell brings Tony more fully into the present and with confident strides, he moves into the entryway to greet his first guest. As the door swings open, his eyes catch an emerald flash just as Estelle lowers her eyes to avoid direct contact. Tony misinterprets her shyness and feels his suspicions rise. He thinks to himself, “How can I trust someone who won’t even look at me?”

Estelle finds herself frozen in the doorway, trying to hide behind the bouquet of flowers she cut from her garden, as an offering to Maria. She didn’t imagine Tony answering the door and can’t help but feel his hostility. She tries to speak but croaks instead, “Hello…Mr. Hernandez.” Tony takes a moment to observe this eccentric woman but is unable to clear his mind of past experiences and the town gossip he’s heard. He fails to actually see Estelle but instead, sees a living symbol of perceived threats. Wanting to tell her to leave and never return he forces himself to say, “Good evening, Ms. Williams. Welcome to our home.” Tony opens the door wide and stands back to allow Estelle to enter. “These flowers are for Maria.” Estelle holds the fresh-cut arrangement of red and yellow roses interspersed with baby’s breath out to Tony but then Maria enters from the kitchen and takes them from Estelle’s hand. “Oh, Estelle! How beautiful and how thoughtful of you! I’m so glad you are joining us this evening!” Maria wraps Estelle in a welcoming embrace that soothes her jitters and acts as a shield against Tony’s disapproval. “They’re from my garden. I’m glad you like them, Maria. Thank you for inviting me to your party.” Estelle couldn’t remember the last time she’d been invited to a dinner party. Maria couldn’t know how much her kindness meant to her. Estelle wanted to make her home in those warm grey eyes and the friendship they offered. Maria’s nurturing heart, responding to a deep need in Estelle, causes her to take Estelle’s chin in hand and reply, “You are always welcome here. In the Southwest, where I am from, we have a saying, ‘Mi casa es su casa.’ That translates as, ‘My house is your house.’ Please, think of my home as your own and know that in this place you are loved.” Estelle has never heard such beautiful, kind words. Her eyes fill with tears and neither she nor Maria notice Tony in the background, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Maria finds just the right vase for Estelle’s flowers and after taking a deep breath of Rose perfume, places them at the center of the dining room table. The women chatter as they return to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. Two couples arrive and the final guest to appear is a handsome gentleman in his early fifties, rounding out the dinner party at an even eight. Maria introduces him as Oscar Lovell and Estelle can’t help but be taken aback by his mature good looks. “I’m so silly.” She thinks to herself after the introduction is past and he moves on to converse with the others. Estelle stands firmly in one place, trying not to be noticed, as she is unable to think of any small talk beyond, “Hello. Nice to meet you.” She wishes she could disappear and wonders what possessed her to think she could belong here. Finally, some relief comes when Maria announces that dinner is served and asks everyone to take their seat at the table. Any sense of calm Estelle gains by following directions is shattered when she finds herself seated next to Oscar. He politely helps her get seated and as he takes his place beside her, she feels her legs quaking beneath the table. Then she catches Maria watching them from the corner of her eye and understands, “Maria, I will let you down. This man won’t be interested in me.” she thinks to herself as she tries to stop shaking.

Over the course of dinner, it is easy for Estelle to discern that everyone but she is a Christian. The talk centers on church, family, and the state of the world. Though all come from varying backgrounds, it is obvious that their mutual faith is a powerful bond. “Relationships built on individual relationships with God.” She thoughtfully considers this new insight while never feeling more isolated and alone. “God, I want that. I want what they have but I don’t know how to get there.” Suddenly, Estelle’s inner dialog is interrupted by Oscar, “Ms. Williams have you lived in Greenwood long?” All eyes turn toward her and finding herself at the unwanted center of attention Estelle stammers, “Umm, ugh, yes. I’ve lived here all of my life, actually. Even in the same house…” Then she blushes and looks down at her half-empty plate hoping these words are enough. Oscar senses her extreme shyness and immediately, feels regret at having caused this beautiful woman discomfort. He also, finds himself wishing he could get a closer look at those beautiful green eyes that only appear in flashes before hiding behind lowered lids and thick lash

“Father? Could she be the one you made for me?” Oscar prays to himself. “I’ve been alone for a long time…but whatever you decide. I’m waiting on You.” He sneaks another peak at Estelle and thinks how perfectly beautiful her hair is against her smooth skin. He wonders if he will ever see her again after this evening. Estelle isn’t unaware of his gaze but interprets it as disapproval of her inability to converse in social situations. “He must think I’m a dolt.” This overly critical inner voice gains volume and expounds upon all the reasons why no man could ever find her worthy of love. Estelle listens to the inner deprecations repeated so often before, is comforted by their familiarity, and nestles in the security of not being forced to move beyond her comfort zone. Suddenly an alien idea invades Estelle’s inner world, “I am my own jailer.” This shocking thought pierces the safety of Estelle’s secret ruminations. Estelle has no idea from where this truth emerged but she can’t deny that it is truth.

Dinner draws to a close with satiated guests stretching and yawning. Estelle sees her chance to exit and says her goodbyes to Maria. They set plans for Alisha in the week to come and as she starts to walk toward the front door, she feels a large hand land gently between her shoulder blades, “May I walk you home?” Oscar asks. “Wha…oh, well I just live next door…but I guess that would be okay.” Estelle is too shocked to answer differently but immediately, wishes she’d spoken otherwise. Then she remembers the jailer and decides to be brave. Oscar opens the door for Estelle and offers her his arm as they negotiate the short journey to her house. Estelle feels very awkward but also, exhilarated. They pause together on Estelle’s front porch under the soft porch light and Oscar gets his wish as she looks up and her green eyes fill his field of vision. Estelle is startled by the strength shining from his eyes. She is transfixed by eyes the unexpected color of clear blue crystal and must take a deep breath before she can speak with composure. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Lovell. Thank you for your kindness.” She reaches for keys in her purse and when she finds them, Oscar takes them from her hand and opens the door for her, then returns the keys and stands back. “Please, call me Oscar. May I call you, Estelle? I hope to see you again. May I call you sometime?” Estelle feels herself blush as she resists the urge to dart inside and slam the door shut. “Ummm…yes, you can call me Estelle. I guess it would be okay to call me, sometime. I mean yes, I’d like that. I think. Here let me give you my number.” Oscar logs Estelle’s number into his phone and then puts it back into his pocket. “Thank you, Estelle. I look forward to getting to know you.” He turns to walk away as Estelle slips inside and quietly shuts the door.

Once safely sealed within, Estelle drops to the floor and wonders if she’s been dreaming. “Did that really happen? After all these years? What is going on here? God? Are You the one changing everything?” Estelle sits in the dark pondering recent events and marveling at how much her life has changed since she first caught little Alisha spying on her. How could one small girl alter her entire world in this way? “Yes, God I do believe this is Your work. Show me what to do! Show me what you want from me next.” Elated, exhilarated, exhausted but also oddly at peace, Estelle picks herself up off the floor and heads for bed. For the first time in many years, Estelle is excited about her future, and falls asleep dreaming of the possibility of tomorrow.

To be continued.

For previous posts in this series go to https://joyindestructible.com/the-recluse-series/ to find posts listed in ascending order.

Primrose Dream

Enchanted by a Primrose dream in June…

A perfect dewy morn,

Sun adorns! I awake by Meadowlark tune!

No summer will I scorn!

Take my hand old man, still a honeymoon…

Our old love newly born,

In every passing season and many a moon!

Every wrinkle care-worn,

My dear old man hold me and let’s spoon!

Apart may we not be torn!

Together so long, souls and hearts attune,

Without you I die forlorn…

I will follow you! Even as far as Neptune!

Taken by one blackthorn!

Should our Primrose dream turn maroon…

Hold me! We’ll be reborn!

On an eternal dewy morning forever June!

 

 

 

Turn Back

I am an old fashioned girl, I guess.

Still a bit new to being an old lady;

I’ve lived long enough to see a few things.

I’ve learned a lot and I know what works,

And what doesn’t.

 

I remember many things that are now, forgotten.

 

I’m still quite taken with chivalry.

A man who offers me his coat when I’m cold,

Opens the car door for me.

He respected me enough to marry me,

Before I gave him a baby.

 

I still like that now discarded word, wholesome.

 

Values that stand the test of time;

Boundaries, manners, appropriate, even etiquette.

Masculine, feminine, equal but different.

Family formed to raise children,

“In the nurture and the admonition of the Lord”

 

“The hand that rocks the cradle rules the nation.”

 

A mother’s job is the most important.

Nurturing a stronger nation, shaping its leaders,

Reward more valuable than money:

Respect and families that stay together,

Bound by mother’s unconditional love.

 

“Wait in your room until your father comes home!”

 

The man who puts a roof over your head!

Food in your belly, clothes on your back; honor him!

Accept his strong discipline in healthy fear.

When you grow up be like him!

Work hard, take care of your family.

 

“Fashions come and go but the classics never go out of style.”

 

Yes, I’m old now and time softens the edges.

It wasn’t perfect back then, it wasn’t like Ozy and Harriet!

But everyone knew what was right and wrong.

In our high ideals there was consensus,

Truth was upheld, good wasn’t evil.

 

“When evil is exalted the innocent become prey.”

 

In this new century there is little desire for Truth.

Free morality held in by tight government regulations on everything else.

More government requires more taxes!

Working mothers can no longer rock the cradle.

Corrupt leaders rise; sociopaths, megalomaniacs!

 

God, they say is like me, old fashioned. They’ve removed the old landmarks.

Confusion is rampant and people are angry that America’s promise is gone.

While old ladies like me pray that America will turn back and bless God.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Heart of Blue

I cut this heart of blue,

From special paper I saved for you,

In love’s cooler hue;

Trim in fine lace, used time as my glue;

Binding of hearts true;

Ribbons weave through and through,

Defining edges anew;

Now, tiny hearts of pink and baby-blue!

My how our years flew!

Happy Heart Day! True love share with you!

 

Love Divine

If the world chose to heed its old women,

And consider this love-poem I’ve penned…

Reveal that romance is hormonal crimson,

Nothing more than transient biology bend,

Desire to procreate defies logic and reason.

 

This is the true love-message I wish to send…

Possible love divine exists; Please, do listen!

Govern desire; to prevent the need to mend;

Sex, enjoy as open recreation and be bitten!

Caught! In jaws of natural consequences end.

 

Laws humans can’t change or have re-written;

Nature’s boundaries aren’t meant to rescind;

By respect do deliver divine love, pure linen!

Intimate relations a holy bond; purity defend!

Divine faithful love! Avoid empty lust demon!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three Sealed as One

My secret lover was Solitude,

How I longed for you!

Refuge from the multitude…

Time to think it through…

In your arms lay in gratitude;

My! How time flew!

Love greater than platitude,

Without you I am blue;

In silence of love interlude,

As my affections grew,

For you I developed aptitude,

I decided to marry you!

 

My abusive husband is Isolation,

Solitude’s darker side;

Imprisonment, lonely degradation,

Jealousy, lover’s pride!

Alone, l lay in arms of trepidation;

Afraid to step outside,

Of his barred door interpretation,

Within tiny cell I abide;

Bars made by fear’s imagination!

Terrorized, hellish ride!

Silence hurts ears, brings agitation,

Solitude sold me a lie!

 

It isn’t good for man to be all alone;

Neither for a woman;

In solitude, the voice of God intone;

Isolation, evil demon!

Banished! In right relationship sown;

A man and a woman;

Sealed as one, kneel at God’s throne,

Three-ply Helmsman!

What God puts together not blown,

Cannot be undone!

God remains, even if death is known;

God and I are one.

 

 

 

 

 

Road Trip

Happiness is found on the road, moving in sync with time; chasing the horizon and then leaving it behind, in pursuit of the next visible goal. It is the purest expression of life, constant motion and never knowing what will happen next. All preparations for the final destination, in road maps, travel times, weather forecasts, the well-thought out plans, are swept away by the uncertainty of the road. When anything can happen, there is no alternative but to move forward by faith; and enjoy the experience of chasing the future while resting in the now. Although this is the factual truth of everyday life, nothing makes life’s reality as tangible as a road-trip.

Marriage is a road-trip. For many, it’s a short, rough journey, with an abrupt end. Others are blessed by companionship that transcends all road conditions and journey together for a lifetime. I have been blessed with such a husband and there is nothing I enjoy more than a long drive together in contemplation of all we’ve survived, accomplished, and overcome, as we continue to move toward the future. We are a miracle and each of knows that if it were not for that Third Cord, which binds us together, we would have unraveled years ago. Our interests are varied and made most evident as we travel; while he listens to Rush Limblah-blah-blah and I think about colors. I lose myself in the landscape, as I compare the natural revelation to the scripture stored in my heart. I wrestle with ideas as he reviews football stats. I think about redecorating (again) and he thinks about paying the bills. He has not a glimmer as to why poetry is important and can’t tell the difference between Picasso and Monet. A mind set on the practical can’t quite comprehend the deep meaning expressed in art and he’s too busy completing tasks to invest the time to learn. I am the thinker who dreams and he is the doer that accomplishes them. Our faith in God and the love we have for each other joins our opposing personalities in a strengthened twine that makes us a successful team.

Though I am amazed that Rush has been blah-blah-blahing for at least, twenty years now, he can only be heard for three hours each day. When the Hillary expose’ is over, I pop in the Who, then switch over to Johnny Cash and throw in the Beach Boys to keep him happy as we sing along about the cars he loves. ( I sing these Beach Boys tunes of my husband’s youth with joy, knowing that I am the New Mexico girl, the desert fox, who made all his dreams of California girls vanish, without a trace.) The road ahead of us is long; still hours and hours to go but we are lost in celebration of our lives and the remembering of everything we’ve built and done together. We talk about the kids; laugh over sweet memories of when they were little and then fawn over the grandchildren, wondering why we didn’t have them first. We shed a few tears over the failures, disappointments, and calamities that left painful scars. I switch from Johnny to Belinda Gail and singing along, we give praise to the One who blesses us and keeps us through the good times and the bad. We rejoice in the Love sent on the wings of a dove. I am so thankful for my husband, one so the opposite of me, who is able to complete my dreams. I’m thankful I am married to the man God chose for me and not to some of the ones I wanted to choose for myself.

The road stretches on before us, with all of its uncertainty. Neither of us knows what lies ahead, or how the road conditions might change but my prayer is that we continue traveling together and ride into eternity, hand-in-hand.

 

Joyous Love From Heaven

It all began in nineteen hundred and seventy seven;

She was young and beautiful, his desert fox he said;

His luminous blue eyes! God’s answer from Heaven!

Love began to spin! Entwining God’s binding thread,

Time flying, they found themselves at year eleven;

With two children and the struggle for daily bread;

This small family sustained by manna from Heaven!

Stable through all things that fill minds with dread;

Children grown-n- gone, arriving year twenty-seven!

Financial woes, arguments, decisions, and sick-bed;

Vows remaining firm by love in spite of sin’s leaven!

Lovers still bound forever entwined by faith thread!

Gray hair, sagging skin, is it really year thirty-seven?

(Still holding hands, she is now his silver fox he said;

His luminous blue eyes of joyous love from Heaven)

Add one Hon! It’s thirty-eight! How fast years sped!

Lord willing, still loving until one hundred and seven!

 

Dedicated to my devoted, loving husband of 37-going-on-38 years.

 

 

 

 

The Joy of Love, Honor, and Obey

I take my husband’s strong, work-worn hand in mine and I am overwhelmed by love, joy, peace, and gratitude. With these dear rough hands, my husband loves me and gives himself for me, like no other person. By these hands, he provides for me, as he provided for the family we created together. He comforts me in sad times and celebrates with me in the good times. He is my best friend, the lasting companion of my life. My husband is there supporting me, no matter what unfolds before us each day. He sees what is best in me and he reinforces what he sees. His encouragement is solid. He knows all my flaws, inside and out and when I hurt him through my sin, he forgives me. Though he loves me with the passion of a man, he also loves me better, with a love that reflects the genuine love of God. My husband’s face is the face of unconditional love and he taught me the right definition of love by his actions. Even though he isn’t faultless, Jesus lives in him by faith and over the years, I’ve witnessed the process of his perfecting by faith and shared in that same process with him. The more he gives of himself to Jesus, the more he has to offer me; and as I submit myself to Jesus, I give myself to him. Our marriage isn’t a perfect marriage but because of Jesus, our marriage is joyful and strong. It is our mutual submission to Christ that has enabled our marriage to last, in Him our union consists. Our household is a household of faith.

I write these words in honor of my husband but also, in praise to God for blessing us with one another. Thirty-eight years is a long time for any human relationship to last and remain loving. I know it isn’t the ceremony we took part in or the license from the government that keeps us together. Though we have a powerful emotional bond, even that connection isn’t enough to maintain our union through all the threats in life that threaten to tear our relationship apart. We remain united on earth until death tears us apart because God put us together. Our marriage is our individual commitment first, to God, one another, our family, and to our community, to live as God ordains. It is our mutual submission to Christ that elevates our relationship to more than just another love affair. In Him our carnal union is made holy and is a living example of the relationship of Jesus Christ with the church. As my husband and I grow together in Christ, our relationship is a precise tool in conforming each of us to the image of Christ Jesus. Our unity isn’t only for us to enjoy, it is an important piece in God’s plan “to bring unity to all things in heaven and earth under Christ.” (Ephesians 1:10b)

Joyfully, I submit to Jesus in my marriage by submitting to my husband and when I stumble by failing to do so, I turn to God and my husband for forgiveness. My husband does the same by turning to God for strength and continuing to sacrifice of himself for my well-being. When we argue, we settle it before we go to sleep. Each of us lives by truth and truth keeps our relationship transparent and working on the things we’d rather not see. We are a team and together, we’ve built many things. My husband is the greatest blessing of my life, my miracle in flesh and blood. Together, we live, laugh, celebrate, fight, cry, and make peace only, to start all over again. I don’t regret one moment of it and I marvel at who we were when all of this began and who we are now. I am better because of him and he is better because of me. True marriage is surely, a work of God! I am thankful to be blessed in a marriage as ordained by God.

Ephesians 5:21 Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.