Out of the Fire

Times had been hard since Julia’s father remarried. His new wife, Angelica, had no time and little to no interest in taking care of Julia, and so left her alone and feeling unloved. As an eight-year-old, this was painfully hard. More than anything, Julia yearned to be held in someone’s arms and hear the words, “I love you”. But day after day passed without a single encouraging sound.

Her father traveled a lot for work, so he was seldom home. Recently he flew off to Switzerland, a land that Julia longed to see, leaving instructions for Angelica to take his daughter shopping for new school clothes.

Like all kids, Julia loved new clothes. The first week of school everyone wore new stuff, showing off all the big-name brands that their parents had purchased. Before her father remarried, Julia was just like those kids, standing proud with her Nike shoes and Addidas yoga pants.

Angelica, however, did not take Julia to Macy’s or Nordstrom’s so that Julia could get the best clothes. No. She took her to WalMart and Target and hastily picked out the cheapest clothes she could find. Julia was given no say in what was purchased. In fact, when she complained about a neon orange t-shirt with a dinosaur covered in sparkles, she was told to shut up and be grateful for what she got. So she wore unpopular clothes and for the last two years had been the laughingstock of her class.

While her father was gone this time, without giving prior notice, Angelica moved in her three nieces, bulky teenagers with puffy faces and lumberjack thighs. The girls were haughty, rude and disrespectful to Angelica, openly ridiculing her and making fun of the way their aunt walked and talked, but it didn’t seem to matter as they were never disciplined. Because of this, the teens saw an opportunity to pick on Julia mercilessly, teasing her about her hair, her nibbled-on finger nails, and her dishwater-blue eyes.

One day a flyer appeared in their mailbox advertising a contest in which one singer would earn a full scholarship to Johnson School for the Arts in Denver, a residential school housed in a refurbished mansion.

Because Julia loved music, she dreamt of winning and of the escape it would bring. Every evening after she finished her seemingly endless list of chores, she retreated to her bedroom and sang every song that came to mind. She pictured herself on stage, standing before a panel of judges, hitting every note perfectly, so perfectly that she would be declared the winner right on the spot.

Her stepmother’s nieces also practiced. Not a one of them could sing on tune for more than a few notes and they had no sense of rhythm or timing, and even though they used a karaoke machine, they messed up the words.

Julia loved hearing them fail time after time. She knew that they would embarrass themselves on stage, probably earning a chorus of mocking chants similar to what they dished out to Julia. Julia pictured them turning beat red as the judges critiqued their performances, finding so many faults that there was much more negative than positive.

Finally after weeks of anticipation, the third Saturday in August arrived, the day of the contest. Angelica told her nieces to wear their best clothes and to do up their hair so as to look their best. Julia put on her only dress, even though it was practically see–through, combed out her shoulder-length hair and rubbed lotion on her arms and face.

When it was time to leave, Julia headed for the car. Angelica stood in her way, arms crossed over her chest, glowering. “You can’t go looking like that,” she said. “Go put on one of your new outfits.”

Julia went upstairs and changed as quickly as she could. Because she had no other dress, she wore her new pants, shoes and shirt. But she must have taken too long, for by the time she stepped out the front door, the car was gone.

Tears formed in her eyes. Julia thought about giving up and going inside, but then she remembered her dream. There was a chance that she might make it in time, if she was lucky and her friend Nat was at home. She walked as quickly as she could and when she arrived, Nat’s mom answered the door. Her mom invited Julia inside and offered her a glass of cold water.

After hearing Julia’s sad tale, the mom said, “Take Julia upstairs and have her try on a few of your dresses. When you find one that looks good, get dressed and come downstairs. Please hurry, though, as we have little time to spare.”

In the room Nat pulled out four dresses, and one by one, Julia tried them on. By consensus, they agreed that the pale green dress with a gauzy skirt was the best choice. Nat also loaned Julia a pair of black flats, which fit a little loose, but looked good enough that no one would notice.

“You look wonderful,” Nat’s mom said. “We’d better hurry as it will take us a good twenty minutes to get there.”

When they arrived, Nat’s mom filled out the required paperwork, claiming herself to be Julia’s guardian. It was a little bit of a lie, but not a huge one, because Nat’s mom happened to be a cousin on her mom’s side of the family. Since her mother died, Julia hadn’t seen much of her aunt, but whenever Julia needed something, she always came through for her.

Julia waited backstage for her turn to sing. From where she was seated, she could not see the stage or hear the music, but she could see Angelica’s nieces. They took turns preening before a floor-length mirror and smoothed out each other’s hair, sticking pins in here and there to keep unruly areas flat.

One by one they left. One by one they returned with sour looks on their faces. Angelica hugged each, wiping away tears of humiliation, and then shuffled them out of the mansion.

Because Julia had registered so late, she was the last performer. As she waited, she sang quietly, going over how she would stand, move her arms, and allow her eyes to look out over the audience with a confidence that she felt down to her toes.

After a long, long wait, when no one else was left, Julia’s turn came. She was escorted to the side of the stage and told to wait. She peeked around the curtain and saw that only about fifty people remained. That gave her hope. The other kids must have done so poorly that their parents knew they’d never get accepted to the school and so left in despair.

When told to do so, Julia walked proudly to the center of the stage. She bowed and then stepped to the microphone. “Hi. My name is Julia Smythe. I’m eight years old and I love to sing.”

“Welcome, Julia,” one of the judges said with a smile. “Are you a good student?”

“Yes,” Julia said. “I never get in trouble, do all my work, and get good grades.”

“Excellent. You’re the kind of student that we’re looking for.” The judge picked up a pen and wrote something on a paper in front of him. “What are you going to sing?”

“Beauty and the Beast.”

“Please call up the soundtrack,” the judge said to some unseen person. “Julia, when you’re ready, nod and the music will begin.”

Julia took a deep breath to steady herself, raised her eyes and looked at the back wall of the auditorium. She nodded and when the music began, she gave the best performance she had ever done. She hit every note and followed the beat. When the music ended, she smiled a satisfied smile.

The audience clapped and clapped and then people stood until even the judges were on their feet. Julia blushed and bowed her head. It felt good to have so many people standing just for her. She loved it when they shouted her name over and over.

When the audience quieted, Julia turned to leave. While she was pleased that so many liked her performance, she believed that was because she was only eight. She thought she didn’t stand a chance at getting that cherished spot in the school.

Before she had taken the second step, the judge said, “Where are you going?’

“I thought I’d go home.”

He smiled at her. “Don’t you want to hear our comments? Aren’t you interested in knowing how well you did?”

Julia looked down at the stage floor. “Yes, but I’m just a little girl.”

“You’re a little girl with a powerful voice,” the judge said. “In fact, you have the best voice that we’ve heard all day. How does that make you feel?”

“Fantastic!”

“Well, then, we have some great news for you. Are you interested in knowing what we have to say?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Julia Smythe, we are prepared to offer you a complete scholarship to the academy. It will cover your tuition and your room and board for as long as you succeed and wish to stay.”

Julia clasped her hands and bowed. “Thank you. Thank you so much!”

“All we need is for your parent to complete the paperwork and the deal is sealed. Is one of them here with you?”

“My mother id dead and my dad is away, but my aunt brought me here today.”

The judges took Julia, her aunt and Nat into an office. When they gave her aunt the paperwork, they said it had to be signed and returned within two weeks, and then Julia would begin school August 24.

Julia and Nat skipped all the way to the car. They sang “Beauty and the Beast” over and over until Nat’s mom couldn’t take it anymore. When they got to Nat’s house, her aunt sent Julia upstairs to change.

“I contacted your dad,” her aunt said when the girls came down for lunch. “He said to say that he was proud of you. He won’t be back in time to sign the papers, so he asked me to fax them to him. I can do that on my computer, so I’ve already sent him the paperwork. We should get it back later today.”

Julia smiled. In her borrowed clothes she had beaten out her stepmother’s nieces and all the other kids. Within a month she would be out of her miserable home and into a cherished academy. Life was turning out to be good after all.

 

Destiny

After her husband’s death, when she lost her condo because she couldn’t keep up with the mortgage payments, Alice thought things couldn’t get any worse. With tears in her eyes, she sold everything and anything that people would buy. The rest of the stuff she gave away to charity organizations or paid to have it removed to the dump.

All she had left was three suitcases of clothes, which Alice stuffed in her car. She moved in with a friend who was going to rent her a room for a tidy sum of $1000 a month. This gave Alice the rights to a shelf in the refrigerator and two shelves in the kitchen cabinets, but no laundry privileges despite a functioning laundry room.

For that amount of money some people could rent an entire house, but in San Francisco it was a bargain, for which Alice was grateful. At least she had a place to sleep in a safe neighborhood.

But when her friend had a heart attack and died, the house was sold, leaving Alice without a place to live. Her pastor suggested the homeless shelter a few blocks away, so Alice applied and was accepted, but only for three months. She would be connected to social services organizations who would help her find a job and a permanent place to stay.

Alice snickered at that idea. She’d turned seventy last month.  No one would hire a woman her age with a lack of computer skills. But Alice went on every job interview that she was sent on, eventually getting hired to clean offices after hours. It paid minimum wage. Enough to buy food, but not enough to pay rent.

When her three months were up in the shelter, Alice had nowhere to go. She packed her stuff up in the car once again and drove to the beach where she parked along a sidewalk, under a shady tree. During the day, the car was cool. At night, the tree provided a bit of shelter from the dripping fog.

Alice slept in her car every night for two weeks. She knew she was dirty despite her best efforts to keep clean. There was a McDonald’s a block away with a bathroom she could use. The sinks were tiny, but with effort she’d stick in one foot at a time and wash the rest of her with paper towels. Even with her daily sponge baths, a layer of grime slowly formed.

And her clothes! The hand soap was too watered down to remove stains and body odor. To remove excess water she had to wring them out, and since there was no place to hang them to dry, they ended up wrinkly and old.

Her hair never got truly clean. She did the best she could to stick her head under the spigot and scoop water on the top of her head, but it wasn’t good enough. Her normally white hair slowly turned a shiny gray and stuck to her head like a helmet.

Because she wasn’t clean enough to be a cleaning lady, she lost her job. How ironic, Alice thought. Who’d ever think that one had to be a model of cleanliness to scrub filthy sinks and toilets!

Alice returned to the shelter, hoping they would allow her to move back in, but they refused. The director told her it was a one shot deal. Others needed a chance. Alice had had hers. She was referred to another shelter ten blocks away, but when she got there, there were no open spaces, so back to her car she went.

One day while she was out looking for work, her car was towed away. Now Alice had nothing but the clothes on her back, whatever was in her purse and a small pension that was on direct deposit.

After withdrawing a bit of money, Alice went to a nearby thrift store and bought clothes. The clerk stuffed them in paper bags which Alice had to pay for because nothing is free in San Francisco. She left with her arms full and stumbled to the serenity of the beach.

She piled her stuff up on a picnic table and considered her options. Alice had none. She had no family that would take her in. She had no job. No place to live. All that was left was a bit of hope that a stranger would come along who felt sorry for an old woman and would offer her a place to stay, but even though she sat there into the night, no such luck.

She wished for a cold bottle of water and a warm meal, which ironically she had enough money to pay for, but McDonald’s would not let her in with her bags of clothes. She would have to leave them outside and hope that no one would steal them. Alice knew that, with the way her luck was going, that nothing would be left if she stepped inside. So she walked back to the beach, hungry and thirsty.

Alice wandered up and down, paralleling the shore, admiring the crashing waves, just to have something to do. Ahead she saw an outcropping of rocks that ran perpendicular to the shore, massive boulders with a base that sported an array of colors. As Alice neared, she discovered that tarps and tents provided the color, and that a village of people made the spot their home.

Alice approached a man who was tending a fire. “Hello,” she said. “What is this place?”

“This is our home,” the man said. “We consider ourselves family.”

Alice’s eyes teared up. She missed her husband so much. Since she had no family of her own, the idea of belonging to this family appealed to her. “What do I have to do to join?” she asked.

The man’s eyes scanned her from head to toe. “Do you use drugs or drink?”

Alice shook her head.

“Are you a prostitute?”

“Of course not,” she huffed.

“Will you contribute to the food pot? Can you buy materials to build a shelter?”

“Yes, yes,” she said. “I can do both.”

“Then welcome,” he said. “My name is George. My tent is the gray one. Put your bags inside. Later on I’ll introduce you to the others and find you a place to sleep for the night.”

Alice placed her bags just inside the door of the tent. She took a quick look around and was surprised to see how neat and clean everything was. In her mind, homeless people were filthy, stinking individuals, with mental issues or addicted to drugs. But here was a camp for people like her. People who couldn’t pay the high rents and had nowhere else to go.

When Alice returned, George offered her a chair and a cup of coffee. He gave her a piece of bread with peanut butter. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m starving. I had run out of options, you know, and was pretty desperate.”

“That’s why we’re all here,” he said. “We’re a bunch of old farts with no place to go. No family to turn to. No friends who’ll take us in.”

Alice watched the waves crashing on the shore. “Is it safe here for an old lady like me?”

George smiled. “We’ll take care of you. Make sure no harm comes your way. That’s what I meant about us being family. It’s like it was our destiny to come together.”

Alice smiled. George seemed like a really nice man. She was sure he’d take care of her. “I’d like to live here,” she said, “if you’ll let me.”

“Sure. No problem. First thing we’ll need to do is build you a shelter of your own. After breakfast we’ll go to the hardware store and buy the things you’ll need. The most expensive will be a sleeping bag. It gets cold out here at night, so you need a good one. Sound okay?”

“It sounds lovely,” Alice said. Then she remembered what George had said about it being destiny that brings these folks together, and she understood what he meant. She already felt like she belonged.

 

God Gave Me You

God gave me you

When I needed you the most.

You came to me like a miracle

Stepping out of the haze into

A light of your own

Hewn from love, from a family

That embraces strangers

And accepts them immediately into

Strong arms and hearts.

 

God gave me you

To cheer me up, to bolster my spirits,

To make my heart sing.

To encourage me to try new things

To appreciate the things I did well

And to support me when I struggled.

All along you have been there,

My knight, standing tall with your blue eyes

And wide-open arms, easy smile,

Warm heart.

We’ve traveled miles together,

Sometimes as a couple,

Sometimes alone, going our separate ways,

But always returning to be one

 

God gave me you

To walk with me through good times

And hard times, struggles and fears.

Now we are walking through our later years,

Still strong.

Still believing in the love that drew

Us together in the first place.

Still pulling us forward into each new day

Wondering what God has in mind for us.

What new joys God will give us.

And trying desperately not to think

Of the end times. Of the days when one of us

Will move along into God’s embrace.

 

God gave me you

To propel me forward, with a happy heart.

And I still eagerly yearn for your embrace.

That’s why God gave me you.

Touch

When Thomas first heard the story of King Midas and his magical touch, he was living in a homeless shelter for women and children. His mom, a sweet and loving person, worked two jobs, but didn’t make enough money to rent an apartment. His older sister worked part-time as a clerk in one of those stores that sold everything for a dollar or less, but even with her help, they were hurting.

The shelter wasn’t so bad because Thomas had his own bed and meals were served twice a day during the week and three times on weekends. Plus there were other kids to play with and a tutor to help with schoolwork.

While Thomas was grateful for what he did have, he yearned for more. Like Midas he wished that he could walk around touching things and have them turned into gold. Think of the joy he could bring to him mom’s face! Think of how happy she would be! And Thomas would be so proud, since, for the first time, he was able to help his family.

But that was make-believe and wishful thinking. The stuff of little kids, not middle school boys like him. He had stopped believing in the Tooth Fairy and Santa and the Easter Bunny when he was four when he realized that none of those creatures ever visited him.

At first he thought it was because they couldn’t find him. After all, he had no home. Sometimes he slept on the floor in apartments of people he didn’t know. Sometimes he slept on the street, or tried to anyway. Until the shelter had room for his family, he had never known what it was like to sleep in the same bed every night.

And to go to school every day wearing clean clothes.

One day, in Science class, the teacher gave each student a cup and had them put dirt in the bottom. Then she gave them each two seeds and told them to push the seeds into the dirt. Next was a dribble of water and then the cups were put on the windowsill.

Thomas took good care of his plants. Every day he tested the dirt, and if it was dry, added water. He rotated the cup, making sure that sun touched all sides of the budding plants. And the plants grew taller and taller every day. In fact, Thomas’s plants did better than those of all the other students.

His teacher told him he had a green thumb, a talent for growing things, and that reminded Thomas of Midas.

What is he could grow the food his family needed? So he asked his teacher for more cups and more dirt and more seeds. The new ones flourished under his care and soon were taller than those his classmates planted weeks before.

The time came to take their plants home. Thomas carried two cups home one day, two the next, and two more the day after that. He found a sunny spot in their room in the shelter and put all the cups there, lined up, like soldiers. And like Midas, he touched them every day, constantly checking on them.

The time came when the plants were too large for the cups. Thomas showed them to the shelter’s director. Mrs. Malloy smiled and said, “Follow me.”

She took Thomas out back to what used to be a garden. “You can clean this up and plant here.” She touched him lightly on the shoulder, turning him to see a shed. “You’ll find all the tools you need in there.”

Thomas went to work immediately. First he chopped down the four-foot tall weeds, and then dug up their roots. He added enough water to soften the dirt, then turned it over and over and over until only rich brown soil showed.

Mrs. Malloy supervised his work, checking on him at least once a day. “You’re such a hard worker,” she said. “This garden hasn’t grown anything edible in years. The soil is well-used, but not in a good way. Guess what? I’m going to buy you some fertilizer.”

When Thomas came home from school the next day, four large bags of fertilizer sat next to the garden. Thomas opened the first bag, scattered the mix over the dirt, and then using the shovel, turned the dirt over and over. He opened the second bag and repeated the process. And then the last two.

By the time he was finished, the dirt was a coco brown and silky to the touch. Thomas smiled.

When the weekend arrived, Thomas dug enough little holes for each of his plants. Then he carried his little cups outside, two by two, and turned them upside down, settling each plant in its own hole. Lastly he sprinkled water over the plants until the soil was damp.

Every day, as soon as he came home from school, Thomas went out back to check the progress of his garden. Every day the plants were taller. So, tall, in fact, that they became top heavy and were falling over. So he went to Mrs. Malloy and asked for her advice.

“You need some baskets for the tomatoes and a trellis for the peas. The squash will grow wherever it pleases, but at least we can help the others. I’ll go to the store tomorrow and get what you need.”

“Thanks,” Thomas said.

“You’ve got a green thumb,” she said. “Everything you touch seems to grow. You should be proud.”

“Can I support my family with a green thumb?”

Mrs. Malloy looked down at him and smiled. “Not right now because your crop won’t be big enough to sell, but when you’re older, you can work at a farm and grow things that will feed hundreds.”

The next day Mrs. Malloy helped Thomas loop the tomatoes through the baskets and wind the peas through the trellis. “You’ll need to check every day to see if the plants need adjusting. As they grow, the tomatoes will be heavy and will pull the plant down unless you make sure the baskets provide enough support.”

Thomas nodded. He understood exactly what she meant, and so every day, as soon as he came home from school, he inspected his garden. He pulled out weeds, wound stray tendrils around the trellis, and pulled longer branches through the baskets.

His plants flourished. One day he was able to pick two tomatoes which he proudly showed his mom. “Oh, Thomas,” she said as she wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so proud of you! We’ll share them tonight at dinner.”

The next day Thomas picked four tomatoes and the day after that, six. Every day he provided food for the table. Soon the other residents started praising him and thanking him. And when the peas and squash ripened, there was even more to share.

Before dinner one night, Mrs. Malloy asked Thomas to come to the front of the room. “Thomas, we are all blessed because of you. You have given us many gifts and brought joy to our lives. Your green thumb has provided us with fresh vegetables for many nights. We are all proud of you.”

Everyone applauded, making Thomas blush. As he sat down, he smiled. While the things he touched didn’t turn into gold, they did grow into something better than gold. Nourishment. Joy. Happiness.

Thomas was just like King Midas. He has a magic touch.

 

The Road

Ahead the road lay like a long, straight line.

But it was only an illusion.

There were subtle rises and falls,

Bigger hills and valleys.

Turns to the left and right,

But always, without fail,

The road returned to its path,

Pulling us forward, onward,

Closer and closer to our goal.

It made me think of my life.

How uneven it was, its fits and starts,

Twists and turns,

Many unplanned and unwanted,

Yet always pushing me forward.

I do regret the things I’ve done that pulled me off course.

I wish I could go back and erase

The mistakes I made.

Things I said that should have been left unsaid.

Things I did that should never have happened.

The rises and falls of emotions that caused me

To think and feel in extremes.

The wrong turns that pulled me asunder,

Forcing me to fight against the tide

In order to get back on course.

I’d like to say I’ve learned from my mistakes

And that now I follow the straight road

That lies ahead.

But I know that the job is never finished

And that forces unbeknownst to me

Will pull me away from my target.

I just hope that I’ll always be able to

Jump back in the right lane.

 

 

Childhood Joys

well-loved children with sparkling eyes

rosy cheeks, and happy smiles

glittering with unbounded joy

freely bestowing generous hugs and

warm kisses that leave cheeks glistening

with reminders of their passing

 

laughter peels from hallway rooms

giggles rising to the gloriously blue sky

caressing souls, nourishing hearts

better than steak and potatoes

or a well-read book

warm arms, tickling fingers

and conversations uninhibited by age

 

playground games fairly played

indoors under the watchful eyes

of guardian parents checking safety

guarding friendships from the

ills of sibling rivalry

growing up together in love

 

meals broken and shared

prayers offered with heartfelt sincerity

special times protecting doors

to teenage rebellion that tears

families apart, breaking hearts

and shattering good times remembered

 

for now, though, life is good

quiet times of reflection broken only

by stories told and songs sung

well-love children with sparkling eyes

rosy cheeks, and happy smiles

glittering with unbounded joy