CHANGE

WHAT IS CHANGE?

It can be something we carry in our pockets, the seasons of each year, our status in life and last but not least, it’s often something we struggle with. I remember some years back when I thought, I could be college material, which by the way never did pan-out for me. We were asked in the English class to write a short piece on; CHANGE. Suffice to say my piece like much of my attempts at college work did not measure up to what the teacher was looking for. Back then I didn’t have much recovery under my belt,  and as one college teacher told me in front of the whole class; “Your bleeding all over the paper. I don’t know if your a good fit for this class” end of quote. Yes, I was wounded, angry and even regressed for a while. But, as another teacher of many years told me; “It wasn’t that I couldn’t learn, it was that she didn’t know how to teach anyone who didn’t fit her mold.” As much as I wanted to believe this instantly and grasp it like a life line, I knew deep in my heart that was only partially true. I was in fact still too close to my childhood losses and abuse to be able to write something that wasn’t a little over the edge and dark.

So, it is without further ado that I share some of my thoughts which go much deeper  on “CHANGE.” Here are some excerpts from a short story I wrote in 2010, called;  A WINTER OF CHANGE

Fred hated the winter months. He often said, “because of how they confine the soul, the earth and all that inhabits it.” With the warmer days of Indian summer gone, the doors and windows that were once open and provided a feeling of freedom and open space were securely shut. The mornings now brought little sunlight through frosty kitchen window panes. The bitter frost of late fall gave way to the stark reality that the old farmer had tried to avoid for years. He and his wife, Liddell, now in their late seventies were all alone. They had not seen their only son, Ernest, in almost twenty years.
The day he left home his father stood somberly on the front porch. His mother’s head hung low, as she used her soiled apron to catch the hot tears that kept welling up in her eyed. A voiceless cry of sorrow crept up in Fred’s throat as Ernest loaded the last suitcase into his old Ford truck.
(Years later, Ernest is returning home) As Ernest made the last sharp turn into the barnyard a light snow started to fall quietly over the pale brown hay fields. He felt like a stranger as he approached the kitchen door, and his prayers never ceased for the strength to bear his father’s unknown reaction to his return.
Entering the parlor where his father laid broken and bruised from his fall, Ernest suddenly realized that he held no less guilt than his father for not learning how to live. Grasping his father’s hand Ernest glared at the duct-taped crack in the parlor window. The cold blowing snow had seemed to become a comforter and not a confinement for their world. One provided by a loving God to be snuggles into, for a time of reflection and healing.

As we approach the spring of the year let us not only be joyful at it’s coming, but, grateful for the waiting and time of confinement of the last snarling winds and unpredictable storms of Winter. Learning to live and bask in each season of our lives as well as the year, is a gift indeed of really learning how to live and cherish all that each one brings. There will always be changes that bring loss, sorrow and pain. However, there is twice as much change for the majority of us, daily that comes forth with the dawn, the hours in between and as the evening shades show the lamp light at our days end.

God Bless You and Keep You Always,

Colleen Bruce / Maggie Miller