Near Nowhere and Close to Forgotten

There is a book that I love to read to my children called The Tin Forest by Helen Ward.  The book is nominally for children, but I think it's truly for everyone.  It starts with a house in the middle of a junk pile "near nowhere and close to forgotten that was filled with all the things that nobody wanted."  Eventually, the man who lives in the house transforms his environment into a beautiful home for all manner of creatures.  The book ends neatly by showing the little house in the middle of a jungle "near nowhere and close to forgotten that was filled with all of the things that everyone wanted."  I enjoy this book so much - the gentle images, the soft words, and most especially the idea that we all have the ability to make our world a beautiful place, the kind of place that has the things that everyone wants. 

 

A parochial school in the next parish over is closing after this school year.  I had an opportunity to sit down with some of the parishioners recently and listen to them.  It's a great neighborhood, a great parish, filled with all the things that everyone wants.  Except, somehow, it turns out that people don't really want those things.  Every day, I hear suburban and exurban people bemoan their commutes, their lack of walkable neighborhoods, their lack of community.  Yet somehow, these people flee the very neighborhoods that offer answers to those problems.  And for what?  I do not understand and I sometimes fear I never will.

To Be Continued

If you were to look at my fridge right now, you would see my whole life.  You'd see the Pentecost picture that Claire colored.  The apostles all have red noses.  Another clip holds three pieces of paper with around 845 phone numbers.  There are baseball schedules, both big and little league, calendars, fliers for very important events, and a recipe that I have committed to memory but keep on the fridge just in case.  And then, right smack in the middle, is one of the last papers that Jacob brought home from 2nd grade.  In huge writing, it says:

 

TO

 

BE

 

CONTINUED.

 

The reverse of the paper actually has an illustrated story.  I can't remember - it might be the story about how Superman saved a man who was hypnotized by his television.  Or it might be a story about Prince Caspian.  Or it might be some other story entirely that I have forgotten.  All I know for certain is that the story is unfinished.  Somehow (and I suspect that it is by the grace of God), the paper got flipped from the story side to the TBC side in the past week.  Around 8 times a day, I am reminded that stories don't always fit nicely into pretty packages.  Sometimes, they must be continued.  Sometimes, they must take the form of serials.  So it is that I am inspired again.

 

Claire started dance lessons.  Tonight is her third class.  I arrive just in time to see the last fifteen minutes of class.  Claire grins so widely that I can see her tonsils as she ballerina walks with the other girls.  I was telling my mother-in-law how happy Claire is after dance.  She said, "Well, as long as she's having fun.  That's what it's all about.  We all know that she's not going to be a ballerina."  No, I don't know that she's not going to be a ballerina.  That story hasn't been told yet.  And while Claire's aspirations currently involve rainbow princesshood, I'm not ready to tie off any dreams for her.  Maybe she will be the first rainbow princess ballerina.  To be continued...

 

Jacob has been self-starting his own dual careers as musician and talent manager.  Six weeks or so ago, he decided that he had waited entirely too long for me to arrange guitar lessons.  He took matters into his own hands.  He marched next door and convinced the neighbor's musician son to teach him.  He even finagled a free introductory lesson.  Not satisfied with his own lessons, he has since arranged lessons for a friend who lives down the alley.  He also has a band lined up for himself.  He is working on securing lessons for the drummer next.  Why audition a skilled drummer when your friend can be trained?  I expect to attend a concert in a year or so.  To be continued...

 

I am working diligently on my 101 goals.  I have completed almost none.  But still, the story is in the progress I think.  The point of the goals was to shake my wagon out of its rut.  I have at least succeeded at that.  I'm careening across the prairie.  Sometimes I'm moving in circles.  Often, I'm moving backwards.  But whatever, it's a fun ride and I'm discovering new territory.  To be continued...