Vignettes

by Josephine Silva

Voice

She was a voice from behind the curtain. As we lay in our hospital beds we shared tales about our lives. She had been a "biker babe." She had kidney failure, heart failure, and liver failure. She had about 2 months more to live. Her father had also died, in the same way, at a young age. We laughed and giggled together into the wee hours of the night, like teenagers at a slumber party. She had already made her peace with God. We promised to meet again for a margarita party. She went ahead to make the arrangements.

Greg

He was tall and slender and his eyes were a gentle blue. He had a magnificent painting talent. His paintings were sometimes whimsical and other times serious. He earned his living painting scenes on cars and vans. It was the 70's and paintings on vehicles was in vogue. We painted together after class at the college we were attending. I would stand in awe when I viewed what he was working on. It didn't seem to bother him that I was old enough to be his mother. We were good friends. One day, after class, the instructor came to me and said Greg was dead. He was found laying in a park, with a needle containing the remains of heroin in his arm. I never detected he was an addict. I knew he was a gentle man who had served in Vietnam and with a little paint, canvas and a brush he could create beauty. I miss him. He will always remain in my heart.

The Thread

While laying in bed, in the hospital, my mind kept drifting in and out. I couldn't focus on one subject. I couldn't see clearly. I felt like I was hanging on by my finger tips. I needed a thread to grasp onto...to help me keep from going under. I didn't want to loose what little I had left of my memory. The only thing I could remember was the Lords Prayer. I kept repeating it out loud over and over again. I must of repeated it one hundred times until I fell asleep. When I awoke the next morning I knew my doctors name. When he entered my room I greeted him with a big smile and addressed him by name. I recognized John...you see I had thought he was a priest on the previous visit. Everything started to get fine tuned. I spoke slowly and laboriously, I couldn't move my legs. Swallowing pills was not possible. But my appetite started to return and slowly but surely, with the help of two physical therapists, I was able to get out of the bed and stand and take a few assisted steps.

Call that experience what you want, but I call it the power of prayer. It wasn't all me who started to recover so quickly. I had help from a very good friend.

Screams

He was screaming and cursing the nurse who was putting his catheter in. His voice could be heard all over the fourth floor. I started to laugh, but suddenly realized that it was real pain I was hearing. Someone was suffering. My senses had been dulled by TV and movies and I didn't know the difference between real pain and play acting. I grimaced and started to pray for him. Thank goodness I know the difference.

Dad

His fingers were short and stubby. His hands were widely strong. His body was a solid rotund. His hair was gleaming white. His eyes were a piercing black. As he stood there tears welled up and slowly streamed down his cheeks. She squeezed his arm and gave him a smile. It was the first time she had seen him cry. The organ started to play a familiar tune. They walked down the isle. It was my wedding day.

The Third Pew

They numbered eight then six now four. Two left these past four months. With gray heads, bent from time, they laborously stand and kneel and pray. They gently murmur as they say the words which slowly blend into a melodic refrain. They wonder if the custom will last when they are gone. They wonder who will take their place...the ladies in the third pew.

Gifts and Miracles

I have been thinking about miracles and the gifts the Lord has made.
The world isn�t monochromatic. It is an array of colors. The sky is blue and the oceans are a different blue. Sometimes the sky is gray and the oceans turn a murky brown. The dirt is brown or red clay or black. The flowers are red, yellow, pink, purple or blue. The trees are green which turns to orange and brown. The grass is green and turns to brown...sometimes the grass has yellow and white flowers growing in it. Complexion comes in different shades of brown.
We smell the flowers and bread baking in the oven, we hear the wind rustling in the trees and the birds song. We taste the sweet things and enjoy the pleasures of the mouth...whether it be intaking substance or speaking His praises. We feel the cold of winter and the warmth of summer.
The mother brings forth the young to nurture and care for and the father provides safety and strength. Whether it be hunting and fishing or laboring at a job the father stands by the mother and young.
The sun rises and sets, the wind blows and subsides...the rain falls and moistens the land...the ocean roars and lays still.
The distance between the womb and the tomb can be a rocky path...curving and twisting and narrow at times. Sometimes we take charge and direct our lives...pushing and shoving...taking credit for out accomplishments. Forgetting the miracles around us...not pausing to breath in His gifts...our days are short and time pass too quickly.
I have been thinking about the miracles and the gifts the Lord has made.
4/21/01

Heaven

I was also thinking about the caterpillar and the butterfly. The caterpillar crawls along the ground being a prey for birds and alike, but if he lives he will spin his cocoon and rest for awhile. When it is time he will burst forth from his sleep and become a butterfly. He will fly from flower to flower...kissing each one...spreading their pollen to one another. He won�t be encumbered by crawling along the ground, but will be free to do as he wishes. Maybe that is an example of our life and death and life thereafter. It might be an example of our metamorphosis into heaven.
I just wanted to share my thoughts with you.

My Friend

When I awoke this morning I was hungry. I told John I wanted to go to my friend's to fulfill my hunger. I felt joy swelling in my heart as I showered and brushed my teeth in preparation to go to my friend's. I lamented on how when I have fallen my friend is always there to pick me up, dust me off and help me on my way. While driving to be with my friend I had a smile on my face and a song in my heart. My friend has always had time for me. When I was sick and almost dying my friend was always there for me. I see my friend everywhere I go. As I sat quietly with my friend thinking about my life...thinking about the wonderful things my friend has given me...how my friend has suffered to be my friend...how much my friend has helped me. Spending time with my friend is exciting. After supper was over I rose to leave...the priest said, "Go in peace to love and serve the Lord." I know tomorrow I will be hungry again.
April 2001