Once upon a time there was a frog named Horace. He was an amiable and clever fellow who deeply
enjoyed a game of Pinochle. One day he
went to visit my girlfriend. He climbed
the door and knocked softly. My friend
opened the door, “Hello?” she chimed. She
saw no one. “Hello!” Horace replied
politely, for he was a polite fellow. “Would
you like to play a game…” The sentence
didn’t end as the words were pushed from his body.
There was a moment of shattering force then darkness…
Light. Unspeakable
joy and a face. “Horace,” said the voice
as the face came into view. “Welcome
home dear one.” The voice was music, resonating with majesty. Even the webbing of Horace’s feet vibrated as
every cell of his being rejoiced. “Creator!”
Horace gasped with delight. “What
happened? Where am I?”
“Come Horace” the creator smiled, “I will tell your
family you are safe.”
**********
I first encountered the remains of dear Horace last
spring. I don’t recall if I was responsible
for picking up, dropping off, or barging in when we met in the doorway. What sticks in my memory was the shocked
looks on the twins faces as they pointed out their near invader.
I made a bit of a fuss about him. I was mildly traumatized. My closest friends will tell you I’m
too sensitive: a completely accurate assessment. I possess an abiding sympathy
for the looser. If I were a frog, I
would be Horace.
Truthfully, I made a scene every time I saw him. The family was squeamish and reluctant to scrape him off the door frame. As
time progressed the situation was viewed with humor and like many things, passed from funny to forgotten. For this reason Horace hung on that
blasted door hinge for the better part of the year.
Astonishing how time flies, as life occurs at a relentless 60 seconds per minute. This constant carries a deceptive quality. Childhood seems to evaporate though it lasts
over a decade. The amount of time it can take a family to process
an unfortunate event is daunting. Trauma has a way of robbing momentum and for many it can take ages for life to become normal
again. An affair, an accident, or an attack can transpire in minutes yet the consequences can last for generations.
I was thinking how
long it can take a family to bury their pain.
I am not speaking about the death of a loved one; those situations change a life forever. But what happens when
you need to recover from less permanent things? A bad business decision…a life changing surgery…a poor choice, these can
haunt the doorways of our homes for years.
Families don’t always know how to process the ordeal and to make things worse, the path to recovery is unclear. The crisis passes into history, attracting infrequent attention yet lingering in our
collective memory. Something unpleasant that hangs in the corner. Our neighbors know the outline of our misfortune but are unable to figure out how to help without straining the cords of relationship.
It is hard and ever so painful.
As I write, spring is arriving in my world. I stopped at my girlfriend's the
other day and admired the snow drops beneath her Japanese maple. They looked elegant, their white heads bowed
in prayer. The daphne at another's home
smells divine and at Horace’s house the purple crocus made their appearance
this week. Creation is being renewed and it looks lovely.
Thoughts of Horace lead me here this week my friend. Strange musings over the casing of a paper thin amphibian. I have been thinking and praying. As spring unfolds I hope you might have the
courage to do some spring cleaning. To get on your knees and ask Jesus to send you his grace once more. The grace Jesus gave you to get
through your crisis is enough to lift away all skeletons and
stains. Ask the creator to visit your home again with His grace. Grab an unresolved issue that resides in the corner of your mind and discuss it with a loved one. Confess the brokenness and share your burden.
I pray your family will be filled with
compassion, love and forgiveness as you seek to move on from life's trials. God is able to cause you to overcome completely. You might never be the same, but Jesus can change you for the better. I pray your bruises would heal and that
spring rains would refresh your very heart and soul.
“Come, let us return to the LORD;
for he has torn us, that he may heal us;
he has struck us down, and he will bind us up.
After two days he will revive us;
on the third day he will raise us up,
that we may live before him.
Let us know; let us press on to know the LORD;
his going out is sure as the dawn;
he will come to us as the showers,
as the spring rains that water the earth.”
Hosea 6:1-3
You are precious to Him.
xoxKaren
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