H—E—Double Toothpicks
The words were meant to hurt me, and they did as they jumped from the page of a letter I’d received in the mail. You see, I’d made someone mad.
“I hope the person who has my necklace rots in H—E— double toothpicks.”
I knew, at that moment, the limitations of the one with whom I had been communicating. The anger was apparent, and apparently, I’d triggered trauma from somewhere deep within.
How could I have known? It was a “Buy and Sell” birthed friendship. Perhaps I should have known, but suffice it to say—I do now. I know now that not all have the emotional capacity to receive. I had assumed my perspective would be understood. What I failed to take into account was the vantage point of the already stressful situation this person was in. And for this, I am not only guilty of, but sorry for.
It all began one day when I saw an item posted on “Buy and Sell.” Someone was selling, and I wanted to buy. However, the price wasn’t exactly clear and I needed clarification. I soon learned this individual was moving across country and could only take that which would fit into their vehicle. Selling these goods was now underway, and I’d tapped into the excruciating pain of one who did not want to let go while at the same time, having to do so more quickly than their heart could handle.
She had many an item I could use and after several conversations, a friendship began. We spoke on the phone, texted encouragement, and even prayed together. One day, in a panic, I received a text. She’d loaded and unloaded her car several times and wanted to all but give up. On over I headed to help step her through the process of packing.
Another text came a few days later as she desired to find a home for a few plants. I assured her they’d be in good hands and made one more trip to the big city nearby. Along with the plants, she handed over two boxes to be mailed to her new place of destination.
That’s when things went south, and it wasn’t the car. As I sorted through the boxes needing to be repackaged, downsizing was necessary. Choosing what must stay and what must go, apparently, is not my forte. However, at the time, I did not know it.
The silver medallion loosely tumbling around the bottom of a box looked to be of little value, so I tossed it. However, within a week, a picture of it showed up on my phone asking of I had seen the little missing gem. I’d forgotten all about it, until I remembered.
Confess I did, that it had been tossed. TRIGGER big time something deep within and that’s when the accusations began. And, I might add, did not stop.
Needless to say, the “friendship” ended—until, that is, I made one last ditch effort to make amends. A written confession was given one more time because although innocent in my motives, I still had a part to play. I could have, wished I would have, and should have done it differently, but for some reason, I didn’t. At the time, I thought I was making a good decision and any intention of causing pain to another was not remotely on my radar. I sent the letter off and waited.
Thrilled to get a response, I quickly tore open the letter. As I read through it, my heart sank. It was evident there would be no restoration in the relationship, and I now needed to let it go knowing I’d done all I could. Her final words were, “Have a nice life.” I can take a hint. Nobody has to tell me twice they’d rather not be reminded of the pain I’d caused.
As I thought about Christ’s words prayed upon the cross, “Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34), I began to pray them for my friend. Soon, confession rumbled up and out one final time, “Forgive me, Father, for I knew not what I did—and no doubt often do many things against my neighbor unknowingly.”
“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). For this, I will be forever grateful that He is faithful. Amen.
The Little Sand Piles Caused Pause
The little piles were piling up. Twas chilly while walking doggie today. She made her way up, down, and through the me andering pathways and as I followed, I watched her pause. Taken aback, I noticed her sniffing the fresh little mounds of sand with a hole in each center upon the gravel road. As she sniffed, I reigned in the leash so she would not destroy the handiwork of the worker ants who’d made their presence known. I breathed a sigh of relief when she quickly lost interest in them.
Territorially speaking, the ants and I have been here long before doggie, and protective I was of the territory. Further down the road the tiny gravel pit like buildings became more numerous as the connected condos were all over the road. Paws evaded each one as if knowing it was holy ground upon which doggie trod.
Perhaps all of us at some point, have appreciated the work it takes those little buggers to form such monumental tasks. As I child, I had my nose to the ground for long pauses as I watched the ants dig from the trenches of life. One piece of sand on the back of one ant climbing up and out of the tunnel was amazing. One knew full well that the outward structure was nothing in comparison to what lied below.
In some Science room somewhere along life’s journey, I recall peering through two clear plastic plated pieces. In between each piece was sand. Enter into this space the ants were placed, and away they went. One could see the tunnels built below ground while looking on—all the while the ants unaware they were under the microscope, so-to-speak.
I share this because there’s a sense of calm in the pause in observing anthills. At least I think so. Any cause for pause is worthy of note.
Watching cattle chew has always brought about a sense of peaceful wonderment. How they thoroughly enjoy each cud forming glob of the selected grasses upon which they graze has often mesmerized. Noting how doggie enthralled with horses up the road (as if she were one with them) brings cause for pause especially when she won’t budge until she’s gone nose to nose with each one. The dance of the bumble bee rumbling while exploring their source of sustenance—is sheer gentleness and as it adds up to sweet honey, it’s not only a marvel but a wonder to behold. Listening to water lap upon shoreline— draws pause. A grocery cart with all four wheels going in the same direction causes a deep sigh of relieve offering for just a moment, prayerful pause.
I wonder. What is your cause for pause?
Psalm 34:8 says, “Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.” Need I say more? May your causes for pauses be breathtaking as He reveals Himself in each one. Amen.
