Signals. Decisions. Signs. All in the form of a tangible something. Today’s something was a puff of white smoke, letting the world know we have a new leader of the Catholic church, Pope Francis.
I watched my own puffs of white smoke here. My childhood home is now a pile of wood and ashes, remnants still burning as I write this. Puffs of white smoke sending their own message heavenward. Smoke that is the result of a decision to move forward, even when it’s hard to say goodbye to a place of love.
We walk some hard roads during Lent. Roads of guilt, questioning, sadness.
But, there are signs to help us.
My signs today:
my husband’s hand in mine as we watched a house fall to the ground in fifteen minutes
bricks piled for a future fireplace
my son picking up a paperweight sized brick for a keepsake
my daughter texting Are you ok
a close friend’s message: I’m just a text or call away
butterflies greeting me on the first trip down the lane with no house at the end…a personal sign that all is well
my dogs sensing my mood and not jumping on me today–they sat and watched, knowing
Random signs. Signals. Ways we cope along the road. Ways we connect.
A single piece of burlap like netting–just another fragment–it’s where my eyes landed after the house was on the ground.
It’s in my jacket pocket for now. It’ll find a lasting place. Does it mean something? Anything?
Maybe it’s just another signal. Something unusual among the debris. Fibers, like ones I’m working with in my art. A new day coming.
I’ll miss the old house, a place I knew for almost fifty years. A place that held stories.
But the land is cleared for sun to shine. Grass will grow greener, flowers will bloom brighter.
Lent is a good time to say goodbye to things that really can’t be fixed. To make our peace with the past. To know that better days are coming.
The moon was the smallest sliver tonight, a smile in the sky when day was done. I saw it as I sat down on the back-porch, a favorite refuge. Perfect timing. Perfect sign.