“The world looked like a storm. I was going to be its center.” ― Kiera Cass
Holy Shit!
The first thing I see when I open my eyes is the stand-up heater on the patio swaying like a metronome in the raging storm.
I leap out of bed in a single move, which at my age is more like watching someone wiggle out of the beach chair in slow motion, but whatever, my Christmas present from last year is about to land face down on the rigid brick patio. Apparently, I am the only savior currently available.
As Charlotte Bronte says, “I was roughly roused and obliged to live.”
I stub my toe on the door jam as I race to the garage barefoot, in my winter pajamas, thank God, in search of something to secure the heater on Larry’s ridiculously chaotic workbench.
I’m literally yelling at myself, “Rope, Bungie, string, anything. What can I use to tie this thing down? A little help here, God. My toe is bleeding.”
Total silence. Isn’t that always the way?
Then, I see the solution hanging on a hook on the other side of the garage. Shaggy’s old leash is beckoning me. I never had the heart to get rid of it, and now I know why. I race with it in my tight grip towards the backyard.
As if a miracle, I use all my might to move last year’s Christmas present closer to the anchoring post, and with herculean effort, I secure it to the arbor with the dead dog’s leash in the pouring rain.
Now I’m soggy, bleeding, broken open in a way, sort of proud of myself with fresh loam stuck to the bottom of my feet.
You might ask, where are all the men in your world?
Well, Larry’s eating donuts with his biking friends who are not riding in the rain but could not give up their donuts!
Dante could be anywhere. I never heard him come in last night, but I assume he’s fast asleep somewhere in the world.
When Larry comes home, I tell him in detail about my heroic deed.
He immediately heads out back to check on my professional securing of Christmas past. After shaking it a few times, he walks around it twice and returns to our room, “Good idea, we should have secured it all along.”
He doesn’t remember that I recommended securing it with a bungie a month ago. It’s like I’m a savant.
About last year’s Christmas gift…
I’ll admit I wanted a new heater for our patio. We practically live out there most of the year, but the temperature drops significantly in the evening. I had been hinting for months that we needed to replace our old rusted heater with a new one, something that we could hang from the arbor and turn on with a switch.
I’m talking modern technology people.
As you can imagine, my brilliant suggestion was meant with total disdain.
He claims, “The old heater is perfectly fine.”
“It practically lit my hair on fire the last time I tried to use it?”
“Duck.”
“Duck?”
“Goose.”
“Someone better start running.”
I was adamant that I didn’t want the stand-up style and was willing to shell out the dough for a user-friendly model we could hook up to our gas line.
Just to be clear, I never asked Santa for a heater. I’m more into shiny, tiny, and new.
I suggested we put this project in the home improvement file because we would both benefit from a new heater, but it was not something he should use to check off both renovation and Christmas at the same time.
This suggestion was ignored entirely.
My first Christmas gift last year were these chandelier types of heaters with these hideous shades. I can’t even describe them to you because the memory is so brutal. He took them back to the store and came home with these gigantic eclectic things that you mount on the arbor, but the minute we turned them on, they blew out our entire electrical system. He returned those too and finally decided on this tall, black, gas-powered monstrosity that is not only an eye sore but cumbersome in my opinion. We’ve moved it all over the yard in an attempt to hide it from our view.
To no avail.
So there it sits, last year’s Christmas present, swaying like a metronome in the storm. I think it interesting how the weather naturally disrupts our plans. We can depend on this, but what about our human nature?
It is also disruptive, uncontrollable, and unusually bent on its own selfish desires.
The truth is what we really need can never be bought, wrapped, and put under a lighted tree. In fact, we need more than we can ever give, but I certainly lose sight of that when I’m assaulted by my own to-do list every morning in December.
What I need to add to the list is time to be seduced by the rain, to walk outside without my umbrella, allowing it to drench my weary soul. I’ll say this, after you climb in bed with the thunder, let it shake you to the core, it’ll shock your damn heart into beating again.
And that’s what we all need.
I have no idea what he has up his sleeve for this year. Let’s hope it’s not something I have to secure during a storm and try to hide from view.
All I know is that the storms are out there and will hit all our lives eventually. What do we do with that? This is what I think.
Let it knock you over, dent your rims, bust up your toe, and soak you to the bone. This is our chance to be broken wide open. It’s when we are our most vulnerable when the distractions of this life fade away, and the only thing we can attend to is the pain. It’s a rare glimpse into the true nature of ourselves, our beauty, our strength, our purpose, and it all accumulates on the horizon of a swollen sky.
So run towards these wild tempests in life, the chaos, the things that make you bleed, throw a tantrum, put a little fire in your heart. Don’t sit in the warm house, sipping coffee, playing it safe. This is our chance to run towards something bigger, better, that will secure us on those dark nights of the soul.
We want wild, wet, unpredictable lives. We want the thunder, with its loud, unguarded nature, because that heart we’re always trying to lull to sleep is now craving something only a storm can satisfy. You will never regret a life that fiercely engages all your emotions. Go on, let the storm shatter you.
My kids are piling into town; the house is full, and the refrigerator is empty. I’m ridiculously happy, of course, I have a cold, and I’m permitting myself to rest this week. I apologize for my absence on your blogs, in your comments, and to your responses. Merry Christmas to all, and happy holidays, Chag Sameach and Eid Mubarak!
“Cheryl is one of my favorite authors/writers. Her life experiences, coupled with her brilliant gift of words, will leave you in tears (and stitches from laughing). She is unique in her delivery and word choices. When I began following her years ago, immediately, I immediately felt a connection. She “grabs” you and pulls you in. You’ll laugh out loud and cry with her. And when you read her heartwarming stories, it’s as if she is hugging you along with her words. Her stories will help you learn more about yourself! Buy it, d#@$ it!” K.L. Hale (Thank you Karla (Flannel With Faith) for the lovely review!)
Living in the Gap 