One Step at a Time—Carolyn R. Wilker

We have a framed print of an original painting on our wall, created by my brother-in-law, Bryan. The scene is of a lovely sunny winter day with a road that winds through some bush perhaps, shadows of the trees on either side crisscrossing the snowy road, and an ice-covered lake just to the right of where the road curves to the left around it. I don’t know if Bryan painted it from a real scene or created it from his imagination, and I don’t know where he was in his life when he painted it. I’ve never asked him, but I might do that someday.

photo by C. Wilker, art by Bryan Pfaff

 I look at that painting often and wonder what’s on the other side of the trees just past the bend in the road. Is there a cabin where someone lives? Might there be smoke coming from a chimney and a fire in the fireplace where someone is going to visit on such a cold day? Or is it simply a look at nature in its frozen beauty on a calm sunny day?

Winding roads are not new. We see them when we hike on nature paths, in photographs, and paintings like my brother-in-law’s where the artist leads the eye just beyond the present scene. Like our lives, when we wonder what lies ahead, and it’s not necessarily a bad thing. It just is.

I remember years ago asking my friend, Maryann a question, “What if we could see what happens in the future?” I was thinking near future, around the next bend in the road, but not too far.

She said, “You probably don’t want to know.”

Indeed, I probably may not like all I see. But I might want to know some things, such as a friend outrunning a cancer diagnosis, a child growing through difficult times to succeed in some way later. Those would be good to know. It might even be good to have assurance that a career that’s challenging now will work out better later on. But I don’t know until I get there.

Maybe it’s the reassurance I get from God that he’ll be with me, and you, on every step of our journey if we only ask. And the prayers of others, the hugs from friends that help as I grapple with a loved one’s terminal illness. All of these things encourage me and give me strength.

 Some moments I want to shut out other responsibilities and tasks to concentrate only on the one in hospice, even though it’s tiring. I have other family members—daughters, sons-in-law and grandchildren. I have friends, a job, and other commitments. Some I can put on hold for awhile, but others are like a fire—the right kind of fire—that need tending. Thus I reach out to others to help me through this time and I pray a lot, as I drive, as I walk, and at night before I go to sleep.

I pray for peace, understanding and to see more clearly and to treat others I meet along the way with compassion, such as a woman at the hospice who needed a hug, or someone at the grocery store, for I don’t know what others are going through either. It could be someone who’s just lost a job, their means of living, or lost a best friend or have even lost hope.

Please, Lord, be gentle with me now as I stand on this precipice, as I put in this waiting time and contemplate again that next bend in the road, even while I’m standing in the present.

 

www.carolynwilker.ca                                                                                                    

Queen Year - Black

A Happy & Blessed New Year to you all!

The following lines were written several years ago to accompany a Year End / New Year homily. While somewhat anachronistic in that the piece begins with the old year, I trust you find will in it some inspiration for reflective moments on your past year and prospective hopes for the infant new year.

Queen Year at the closing days of December is a grand old lady.
She has nurtured and watched over us and borne us along
for these twelve months of three hundred and sixty-plus days.
She began her journey with us as a baby, a princess holding much promise.
Her energy and life brought us smiles and hope by Spring,
as rapidly maturing, she sang and danced her way into our hearts.

But she soon outgrew us, so that by Summer we weren’t quite sure
whether we or she were pulling the strings of our destinies.
By Autumn we had become more comfortable in her presence,
sensing that she understood the Plan better than we understood life’s enigmas.
We sensed that she had a source of wisdom and knew better than we what was best for us.
Finally, we resigned ourselves to her directives and learned to rest in her embrace.

It is Winter now, and her end draws near, yet Queen Year is truly regal and wise.
Propped up on her pillows of well-earned respect, she reclines in possession of all her faculties.
And we . . . we gather round her bed knowing that whatever judgments she declares
for how we have treated her during her sojourn with us will be for our learning,
for our good. And so we intently listen ... listen well in order to heed.
Her reproofs are to instruct, her commendations are to inspire.

Queen Year has no desire to hang on to her life or power, for she is a giver.
Her life is all but spent, and she is poised with grace to relinquish her hold.
Her smile assures us that the gift of a newborn Princess Year will,
like she has done, nurture and care for us, as we care for her.
And even though she too will outpace us to grow and mature so swiftly,
we will learn to love and trust her, for, like all the years of our lives with all of their days,
She will be to us a Gift from the hand of the Creator Divine.

~~+~~
© Peter A. Black, 2007
Peter is a freelance writer living in Southwestern Ontario.He is the author of "Parables from the Pond" (Word Alive Press), and writes a weekly column in The Watford-Guide Advocate.