Sandra Heska King

daring to open doors

Popping the Cork

By

I came home for a couple days of grandgirl duty because my husband had to go out of town.

He didn’t greet me, and I didn’t see him under the dining room table.

I knew right away.

He jumped down from the dresser and trotted out when I opened the door.

I knew it had been a while.

A long while.

Maybe 36 hours. Maybe longer.

Poor cat.

I crawled around, sniffed the rugs, and buried my nose in Grace’s strewn clothes.

Then I dragged the mattress out into the rain.

The three-quarter one.

The one we had to have specially made for the antique bed that belonged to my mother-in-law.

The one specially made for her.

I left to get Grace from school.

The wind picked up.

We dodged a branch that had its sights set on the car hood.

We watched an explosion of fireworks dance along the power line near the old barn across the road.

By the door where round bales of hay lay in wait.

I called 911. They sent a fire truck.

We stopped at my daughter’s so Grace could get clothes for the next day, but she ran back down the steps and said she wasn’t going in.

The house was trying to fall apart.

At least the siding.

At home, two trees lay shattered, limbs scattered, victims of my son’s chainsaw, not the wind.

I know they were close to the fence and practically dead (or dying) on their own, but I loved them.

The birds loved them, and they were good frames for field photos.

My plants over the sink were wilted and yellowed and brown and brittle.

I threw them out.

Including my African violet.

The white one.

I noted the layer of dust along the windowsill and the film of cobweb from sill to coffeepot.

And Grace left her listening ears at school.

Close calls.

Interruptions.

Disappointments.

Small losses.

It was all it took to pop the cork for a good cry.

Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way. ~James 1:1-3 (Message)


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Comments

  3. S. Etole says

    That proverbial straw that breaks the camel’s back … it’s not always a bad thing. Those tears need an escape. Praying for you … often.

  4. Cindee Snider Re says

    Oh, Sandy, I wish I was close enough to show up with a steaming mug of tea and open arms, just there, a listening ear, a pair of helping hands, a warm shoulder, no agenda, just time and space and presence. For now I’ll simply hold you close to my heart in prayer.

  6. diana says

    I’ll join that hug, too. Sometimes that cork just needs to pop right on out. I’m actually glad you found the release of tears – it helps. And sleep? Ah, yes, that’s the ticket. Deep breath in… deep breath out…. one foot in front of the other, one task at a time. “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well…” Eventually. Getting there is sometimes just plain hard. Sorry for all that makes this one of those times.

  7. Nancy says

    “Let it do its work” So much easier said than done. So glad God made us with the capacity for tears. When the pressure builds and the cork pops, we really do need them.

    BTW–I have an antique bed with the 3/4 size mattress too. So charming, so uncomfortable 🙁

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