Raining

Raining today. Just raining.

Once, when I was 12 years old and grieving the loss of my maternal grandmother, her sister came out on the porch where I was sitting and asked me if I knew what the shortest verse in the Bible was.

I said that I didn't.

"Jesus wept," she said.

She knew how special my grandmother had been to me and had noticed that there were no tears. Just silence. Just me, out there alone, sitting in silence.

And so she said, "Jesus wept."

Some years after that, when I was a freshman in college and was taking Intro to Lit, the professor, who was a practicing Christian, introduced the literary concept of "pathetic fallacy."

The pathetic fallacy is when nature, or other non-human forces or objects, are portrayed in art or literature as acting in sympathy with human feelings.

Today is Good Friday, the day on which Christians believe Jesus was crucified.

When I was younger, and it rained on Good Friday, I always thought that this meant that nature was grieving the loss of God's son, mankind's savior.

I don't remember what I thought when the day was warm and pleasant and sunny.

I just remember that there used to be such days...

LPK
Dreamwidth
3.30.2018

3-2-1-Contact. Maybe...

The grandson finally made it back to soccer training, last night, after being out for several weeks with an ankle sprain. I know such injuries can be of long duration, and setbacks frequent, but there have been times when he's been less than completely honest about such things because he's "had other plans" or "was just too tired" or "simply didn't feel like it."

As a result, I've had many conversations with him about the necessity of being honest and of honoring our commitments, whether to a job, a sports team, or a personal relationship. And how one lie or one broken commitment can jeopardize our standing with an employer or a team and forever compromise a personal relationship. All of which has seemed, at times, beyond the comprehension of this now-15-year-old kid.

But I've kept at it, hoping that the seed once sown will someday germinate and eventually blossom into something akin to a conscious, considerate, dependable young adult. Preferably sometime before his grandfather is permanently asleep beneath the wind-swept grasses.

And it may just be that he's finally becoming aware that this old man is on this earth for something other than giving rides, when his mother won't, or buying the latest footwear, when his mother can't. Because, on a couple of recent occasions, he's asked about coming over for dinner. Although, when I've tried to pin him down, about the where and when and why of it, he's reverted to that non-committal self that we know and sacrifice our sense of purpose and self-worth to love.

But last night, during one of those rides to a friend's house that I seem to have been put on this earth to provide, he asked if I was doing any more projects in the basement workshop that we'd built.

And when I said, "Yeah, why, do you need to earn some money?" he surprised me with, "Well, yeah, but I never hardly see you anymore and, if I came over to work, we'd be doing both."

Then, as I recovered in time to avoid running up over the curb and hitting a little old lady who was actually several years younger than me, I finally realized what he'd been asking.

After which he again reverted to his noncommittal self, as if pushing such a proposal beyond the realm of mere conjecture was still outside his zone of comfort.

But maybe this means that there's actually some hope. For a more meaningful sort of contact than just his backside slouched against the passenger seat of my car. My hope, for both of our sakes, is that it comes to fruition soon.

Because, you know, I'm not getting any younger...

LPK
Dreamwidth
3.30.2018