So I had this assignment for my Teaching Language Arts class to write a memoir of something that stood out in my mind. I thought about using the usual holiday memory but as I sat down to write, I started a stream of consciousness..... this is what came out:
It was 5:30 am on a
surprisingly cool August day. The shrill of my alarm pierced through the
darkness to remind me that I needed to get up and start the coffee. It was
going to be a long day. My arm reached wearily out and groped for the source of
the sound- my cell phone. The shrill ceased as I hit some button on the phone
and I rolled back over hoping to get just 10 more minutes of sleep.
Unfortunately, I had lost that warm spot in the bed which meant I was now up
for the day. Stretching off sleep and soreness, I flung my feet over the side
of the bunk beds- being careful not to rouse the slumbering 16 year old beneath
me. Carefully, I lowered myself down rung by rung. Finally reaching the bottom,
the floor of the wooden cabin felt cold on my feet and the mountain air coming
through the open window sent a chill through my body that was very
uncharacteristic of the month.
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| Three of my favorite men =) |
I tip-toed through the mine field of shoes and
hiking gear towards the small yet surprisingly accommodating kitchen. Fumbling
in the morning twilight, I searched through the cabinets for the only thing I
knew would wake me up enough to get through this long day of outdoor
exploration. As the smell of coffee gradually filled the cabin, I got ready for
the day. When the coffee had finished, I took my mug of brewed energy out to
the porch to sit and absorb the beauty of the world around me. Settling down in
a canvas camping chair, the smell of smoke still lingered from the night
before. Dampness had fallen over the cabin site thanks to the rain that had
passed through during the night. The smell of fallen leaves, rain, and smoke
melded together to create that quintessential ‘camping’ smell.
The Vermont mountain
breeze shook the leaves above me and, drawing my knees closer to my chest, I
reveled in the contrast of hot coffee sliding down my throat with the coolness
of the air. Closing my eyes, I took the opportunity to just listen to the world
around me. The rustling of the summer leaves, the sweet singing of the birds, and
the faint rushing of the river that ran just steps away from our cabin. As I
sat, I realized that for a brief moment I had let my mind, my soul, and my body
be completely still. There were no worries, no anxiety ridden anticipation of
tests and papers, no uncertain projections of where my life was headed. I was
still. I had thought that this peace was the thing that God wanted me to learn
for the day. I thought He wanted me to realize that I need moments like that in
order to regroup and remind myself that although my world may be swirling
around me, He is always still.
But He still had more
in store for me.
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| Teaching me how to play the guitar =) |
As I sat in the
stillness of the outdoors, my ears were greeted with the sound of faint
strumming of the guitar. Turning around to look through the open window behind
me, I saw the previously slumbering 16 year old slumped in a wooden chair with
the guitar cradled in his hands. He had grown his hair out over the past two
years- something I was deeply bitter about. I felt like his hair, that fell
into and covered our matching blue eyes, masked the little boy I had grown up
with and had so many aspirations for. My little brother had traded in his innocence
a long time ago for a world of piercings, tattoos, and ‘scream-o’ music.
He had traded in the confidence I saw in his younger years for a cynicism and disdain for authority that I cannot relate to. I watched as his hands moved
gently along the strings plucking out cords of a love ballad; undoubtedly for
some girl who had caused his heart to break. Brushing his hair back from his
eyes, he stopped for a minute and just looked down at the guitar. Holding my
breath, I prayed that he wouldn't see me and stop playing out of self-consciousness.
That minute of silence
was my true lesson of the day.
As I
looked at him looking at his guitar, I saw for a moment my little brother who I
had missed so much. Slumped in the chair, there were no walls built up, no
sarcastic remarks at the ready, and no bristled rejection of either my age or
my morals. I saw that little boy who had been happy to hang out with his sister
and who looked up to me for guidance and direction. Selfish tears welled up in
my eyes as I remember the little boy who I had missed so much. I thought about
the decisions he had made and how they had almost broken apart our family. I
thought of all the late night fights and midnight drives that followed his destruction.
I thought about how he had seen the harm that this kind of lifestyle could
cause and yet had embraced it willingly.
And
yet despite all of these memories, I sat there and looked on the brother that I
loved. I saw that who he was on the outside had not necessarily poisoned who he
is on the inside. He sat there in the cabin and, although it was just for a
minute, had let all of his walls come down. In that minute, it was just he and
I. I thanked God for the grace of being able to see my brother one more time and be reminded of what it truly means to
be a sister. It means loving your siblings for who they are and not rejecting
the façade they put up. It means being a mentor in every moment but still
letting them see that you have a weak side. I‘d like to think that maybe he saw
me too. Maybe as he crawled out of bed and felt the same chill of the breeze
coming through the window, he looked across the minefield of shoes and hiking
gear to see his sister sitting on the porch. Maybe he saw that, although my
parents joke about me being the ‘poster child’ for our family, I still needed a
minute to sit makeup-less on the porch and just breathe in silence.
Eventually,
he picked up his guitar again and continued the ballad. By now, the smell of
coffee had woken up our younger brothers. They began to stir in their beds and
were softly grumbling about the early hour. I slowly unfolded my legs from my
chest and raised myself out of my chair. The sun was
beginning to burn through the dampness of the air and my coffee had gone cold.
I walked back into the cabin, now unafraid of waking anyone up. When I crossed
the threshold, I looked over at my brother. Smiling, I offered the sleepy
teenager a cup of coffee. Bringing over a mug of the steaming cup of
energy, I put my hand on that long, shaggy, brown hair I hated so much.
Tousling it, I told him were going to have to start breakfast soon to which the
response was grumbled thanks for the coffee and a roll of the eyes. I didn't let
this bother me though- it was going to be a new day.
Well there you go folks. Sometime the Lord can work in mysterious ways. Whether it be through a smile on a path, a shared drink after a long day in the kitchen, or a writing assignment for a class. Take a moment to realize today how the Lord might be working in mysterious ways for you today.
Peace and Blessings <3
