What Is Lonnie's Room?

There is a room in our home to which I navigate more frequently than the others. It makes me feel secure, it is cozy, and it is quiet. From the peak of the room, there is a large rusty metal angel suspended by a very thin wire. It would apear as if the angel is hovering over me, protecting, and always present. The lighting in the room creates a virtual display of dancing shadows around the angel.

Every evening when I am in "MY ROOM", I think of what Luciano de Crescenzo once said, "We are all like one-winged angels. it is only when we help each other that we can fly."

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Life's Stories

In the theatre of life, we tell ourselves stories in order to live, and we then live in those stories. When circumstances change, or a key figure is no longer a character in that story, we then have to reconstruct our understanding of life. Such was the case 40 years ago on Father's Day when a railroad freight train rolled through a small community town leaving war-zone devastation in its path. That particular chapter of this writer's life is one that is filled with emotions, tears, fear, anger and grief. Grief of things that are no more....a home that marked our beginning,  personal belongings never to be found, baby's first pictures burned, and treasures never to be replaced.  Since that famous day so many years ago,  lives have changed, challenges conquered,  and new chapters written.

As my husband and I lead the parade in the original fire truck summoned to that scene, we will again block the pain of that father's day and instead celebate the blessings. 

No comments:

Post a Comment