Bicycles and Quilts

"The future belongs to God, and it is only He who reveals it, under extraordinary circumstances.....If you pay attention to the present, you can improve upon it. And, if you improve on the present, what comes later will also be better. Forget about the future, and live each day according to the teachings, confident that God loves His children. Each day, in itself, brings with it an eternity." From "The Alchemist" by Paulo Coelho

Each day in itself does bring an eternity. It was so evident to us yesterday when time became blurred by tears and our hearts were touched by God. The moment was marked before it even happened like reading an old book and coming upon a dog eared page and finding an underlined passage that you know was read and re-read by the previous reader and when you find it are so glad that it was lovingly marked otherwise you might have missed it and read over it and missed its meaning... treasure among words. Yesterday was treasure among time.

We were working on our quilts. Quilts made of his favorite shirts, one for each one of our children, my sister-in-law Joy and my mom, who loved him like a son. My heart ripped as I cut into the first shirt and just like the mosaic of squares laid out on the table, was confused. He should be wearing these....I didn't realize how much he loved the color blue. I could see all the shades the sky had been under us , before he left. The bright blue of Yesemite as we looked up to Half Dome from the valley, the sad gray of Zion from the top of Angles Landing, the pale blue green reflecting on the waters of Hunting Island. All those skies covered us like quilts, and we were safe and secure, holding hands, hiking or cycling clueless that clouds were brewing in the distance of the storm that was soon to come. These quilts are being made to cover my children's fears, to remind them that dad loved them, each patch of color carrying a memory. The memories we shared, "Remember when he wore that shirt to my softball game, mom didn't like it because it was a bit too bright but I loved it because I could always spot him in the crowd cheering me, calling my name." And I remembered what I had forgotten....shared memories. Holding on to these like a child holds on to her special teddy bear. I know that I must prepare for the second stage of grieving. I'm still grieving for his body that is absent but soon I will grieve for those memories that time and toil will cause to fade. Oh how easily does it sneak up upon you, like looking in a drawer for something you know you placed there and not finding it. Maybe the quilts will help us not to forget and as we share each others memories, they will become like the patches in the quilt, a mosaic of colors and feelings and before we know it they will blurr with our own memories and instead of losing them we will add them to the drawer and when in those moments of silence when we are still and need him we will open the drawer and find much more there than we had thought would ever fit. The quilts will heal , the quilts will comfort and the quilts will remind us that he loved us because he was there everyday, under the sky holding our hands.

Hosanna was sad. Looking at the remnants of his shirts all over the floor, little pieces of him littered under the sewing machine. She came and sat by us, caressing each square being careful not to prick her fingers with a pin. She held my cold hand and listened to us talk. Did he really wear all those shirts? Too much to bear, too much to take in. She left, to walk under the massive blue sky and find a quiet spot to sit and ponder and maybe hide from all of this. Hiding always works, a little escape, a little reprieve. Hide in the barn behind some wood, under a tarp in the dark. Solace in silence, covered by darkness, does God care that she's hurting?

The next thing I hear is delight as she rushes in the sewing room, her face lit and bathed in sunshine and fresh cool air. "What happened Hosanna?" Her face beams as she shouts "I found my bike! The one daddy got me for Christmas!" Oh my! My heart leaped, God just touched my child! The bike we looked for for days, the bike he had carefully picked out and bought for her, and we could not find, I wasn't even sure if he had picked it up and with the bike shop going out of business we had no way of finding out. All of us that were here before Christmas looked for it. I know it wasn't there in December. God hid the bike as carefully as Hosanna hid herself today. As she leaned into the darkness and prepared to cry, her back touched the front tire. She got up and pulled the tarp, moved the wheel barrel and the wood, and there was the bike, shining, waiting for God's appointed time. The tears came but they were filled with joy. She proudly showed us where she found it. This was no accident that Christmas came in February for my Hosanna. All three girls rode the afternoon away, in the chilly wind, under the vast blue sky. Truly this kind of comfort not even our memory quilts can bring. Each day, in itself, brings with it an eternity.