A tattered box arrived on the doorstep yesterday. Despite the condition of the box the contents remained intact. The box contained the U.S. Flag given after the death of my dad, who was in the U.S. Air Force in the early 1960’s, some photos of my husband and me, and a grocery bag containing a lot of his writing. Dad, in our family circle, was known as the Rotten Poet, his self proclaimed pen name, for the poems he would send around Christmas to us. Some of us would respond in-kind, I signed my poems as The Rotten Poets Eldlest Daughter.
When my Gramma, Dad’s mom, passed away I burned her journals with members of my family. I did this with reason and intention. For a moment yesterday, in seeing Dad’s handwriting, a twinge of regret made its way across my heart. “NO,” I said firmly to myself, “I stand by what I did.” Concern on my part for the same thing also flashed through my being. That’s when I realized that this reading is with the intention of getting to know Dad in a new way.
As I read some of his writing I laughed out loud at his wit and wordplay. I see where I get it, though I don’t know that stating that before yesterday was truly possible. Then there are the poems. The poems I’ve never seen before ones that opened a door to a man who is far more reflective than I’d ever realized. We all live in a society right now where families experience a sometimes necessary brokenness that is painful and somewhat long lasting. There was a long period of time where Dad and I didn’t talk. It was my doing, I fully own that. Hurt does strange things to people.
In just a few short months I’ll complete the Institute for Spiritual Direction here in the Diocese of Austin. The more we dig into formation the more I recognize that formation never really ends. God willing I’ll have the opportunity to companion others in their walk of Faith and Spirituality. I hope, as I dig into Dad’s writing that I’ll learn more both of us that will permit me to grow in my relationship with the Lord and with others, and with my Dad.
I’m reminded that our perceptions in life about situations and people often need extended grace.
That this grace is available through our lives even if the people are not.
That God exists outside of time and this is comforting.
I can extend grace. I can extend grace, particularly and especially when there are things I don’t know.
So pretty much all the time.
There will be more quilting content soon.
God bless,
Teri
A Quilter's Heart 