Memorium

               "Why do the men leave first?"
                I stopped my delicate and soapy cycle across the china plate and looked over my shoulder. "What, Mom?"
                "Just..." Mom cleared her throat. "It's a puzzlement, that the husband would die first. All these statistics that doctors pour out. Do they ever stop to ask why?"
                Mom was out of her chair, hugging her elbows as she gazed out the bay window. Her sweater was the same blush of a bluebell flower, her gray and white swirled hair curled just above the shoulders of it. Her curls matched her slacks and when she turned to face me, I knew I'd see the perfect loop of pearls around her neck that Dad had gotten her. That I could remember her wearing every day of my life.
                She puts it on, first thing. I mused to myself, delaying my answer. Even when she can't remember who gave it to her. 
                "Mom..." I put the china plate down, the warm water suddenly cold. "Are you thinking about Dad?"
                 She turned from the pale shafts of sunlight, her fingers rubbing the pearls like prayer beads. "Of course I am. Married for fifty-two years to the man, then he up and dies on me... what else am I going to think about?"
                 I swallowed and dried my hands. "This' your day, Mom. Mother's Day. It might be better to think of something cheerful."
                 The rule was never to upset her; like a basket of eggs on a scale, you could never let it tip. Mom had been swinging back and forth on that scale for the better part of two years. Dad had been gone longer then that and a part of me was glad he wasn't here to see her like this. Dad had always been a man of action, but there was no action for Alzheimer's.
                 Mom was studying my face, then lifted her chin with a bittersweet smile. "Oh honey... he made me cheerful in many ways."
                 I smiled back at her. "If it makes you happy, I'd like to hear about it."
                 "Indeed you would," Mom touched the edge of the sleek and round dining room table. "But first... let's set this table up right."
                 "What?"
                 "Let's set the table." Mom's smile puckered in a determined look. "My son is coming by for lunch; it's Mother's Day you know."
                  But... I fought back the initial panic. You were going to tell me about Dad.
                  "Unless I'm mistaken, there's ham marinating in the fridge." Mom, shoulders square and motions full of purpose made for the kitchen. She'd open it and only find leftovers. And would that remind her that her son- me- was already here? Caring for her, providing her with the gaps that sometimes escaped her; in the hopes of one more conversation with the reassuring and elegant lady who had raised me.

THE END

Mother's Day froths with gifts and cards and gatherings, like most celebrations. But what is it built on? Isn't it the memories that amount to you being this grateful for your mom? You've probably figured out somewhere that she'd not defined by a biological line or measured by the cash she'll allow you out of your wallet. 

It's that character she's taught you, whether through the family recipes she passes down, the punishments she dishes out (mercilessly), or the cartoon of orange juice she'll run out and get when you're sick... in her sweat pants! Treasure the memories that your mother has given you; she's given them in the hopes that her children will grow, learn, and thrive into someone capable and respectable. She thinks ahead in how she'll raise you because that's how a parent's love works; by looking ahead. 

When the Bible talks about God providing for our future, the advise of parents are one of the strongest ways He does this. Who do you go to for all your wisdom and direction, when you're still learning how the world works? What memories come to your mind when you're trying to solve a problem 'on your own'? When a Bible verse comes to your mind, who was the first person who gave that verse to you? (Not all the time of course, but you get the gist of what I'm saying.)

Memories are precious. They are reminders of the ones we love and why we love them so much. Not everyone is blessed with a treasure trove, but for what nuggets you do have, hold tightly to them. And thank your mom for her presence in each one!

'She is clothed with strength and dignity; 

she can laugh at the days to come. She speaks with wisdom 

and faithful instruction is on her tongue.'

~Proverbs 31:25-26~

At Home ~ Finale

           

            Brittany didn’t want to be here. Her heart was thudding so fast, it threatened to cut off her breathing. The thought of never seeing her parents again...

            I thought I was stronger then this. Brittany shivered; it was like November had followed her inside.

            “Bet you want to tweet this.” He spoke with this chilling underlay to his voice. Everything he’d done was with a chilling- easiness. He had come up to her only yards away from her bus.

            “You’re a smart girl, Brittany.” He had said. “So just pretend I’m a friend of your dad’s to drive you home and I won’t have to shoot you.”

            He was confident, cocky, and he felt entitled. His control pleased him… everything Dad had said about him.

            But who is he? Brittany’s heart fluttered as he turned the car. I shouldn’t be so scared of my own street.

            He looked her way, his layers of blond hair barely moving. It was dark at the roots and longer in the back. No stubble over his lip or jaw. He kept himself clean, like his car. He smirked as they reached her driveway. “This’ll be easier then the last time. What’s the garage code?”

            “It’s saved on my phone.” Brittany forced a stony tone out at him. “Give it to me and I’ll find it.”

            His hand shot over and gripped her shoulder. “You want another bruise?”

            I just want to be brave. Brittany winced. That was what all those verses had been for. She closed her eyes. “3802.”

            He smiled and got out. Brittany let her breath out to control her shaking. Matthew 22:29 You are in error because you do not know the Scriptures or the power of God.

            But she did know. That would make a difference.

‘&'&’&’&’&’

‘But the Lord will take away her possessions

and destroy her power by the sea and she will be consumed by fire.’

~Zechariah 9:4~

            Declan had told Patty that it was all an oversight. The school was required to notify the parents if any kids that weren’t checked off on days when they were supposed to be on the bus. Declan knew this… and he also knew that Brittany would have continued those tweets with or without their permission. Yet, deep down, he was worried about paying the price for his decision. If Brittany wasn’t at home… Declan forced his mind back onto the Bible verses; power, grace, and mercy, whatever. Whatever was right and lovely, he wanted those things on his mind. Not of evil touching his daughter.

            He finally pulled into their driveway at 3:49. It was empty and Brittany was always dropped off by 3:53. She’d predicted this on her first day of fifth grade, calculating the bus’ route to a tee. Lord, you made her so smart.

            The driveway was empty, the home front quiet. Declan checked his watch as he got out of the car and peeked into the garage window. Why? The reasons failed to matter. But he spotted the car inside and bolted for the front door.

‘&’&’&’&’&’

‘But God drags away the mighty by his power;

though they become established, they have no assurance of life.’

~ Job 24:22 ~

            He wanted her to delete the account.

            “I-I’m not gonna do that.” Brittany insisted, though she refused to look him in the eye. He remedied that, getting down low and in her face. “You started this dance, little girl. You need to finish what you started. That’s what your parents teach you, right.”

            Brittany blinked out her tears, wrapping her fingers into the comforter of her bed. “You’re so smart, you figure it out.”

            “Mine,” he went on, unfazed by her tears. “Were always telling me to accept my place in the world; to roll with it. But, I don’t accept anything less then my dues.”

            “An extra food stamp to FoodMart.”

            “Is it just me or are you getting braver?” he growled, taking her phone and wrapping her hands around it. “Delete it.”

            Brittany stared at the phone. “No. It’s not going to stop just because I delete it. It’s- God’s- more powerful then that.” She looked up at his soulless eyes. “More powerful then you.”

            His face went red. He was going to hit her; Brittany braced herself. Only to have him walk away. “Just like everyone else, always underestimating…”

            He reached her outer wall, ripping a canvas off its nail and letting it clatter to the floor. He had two movie posters and a family photo to go. Brittany eyed her bedroom door which he’d left open. Wait... was that... that was her dad hunkered at the top of the stairs. Only, she couldn’t run to him this time. 

            The guy was eyeing her again, his hand kept tight on his gun. “The price you pay for underestimating, little girl.”

            He threw the family portrait down hard so the glass was sure to break. Brittany flinched with the sound. “Why’s it even matter? You want attention… become a politician or something.”

            He laughed, crunching a heel through the glass. “Not quite enough, Brittany King. But this…" His sick grin came back. "This is going to be talked about and logged into 20/20. They’re going to talk about me. How I got away with it. Man, am I going to enjoy that. Seeing the way people will lock their doors and worry over the safety of their pathetic lives.”

            That’s why he does it? Brittany drew back on her bed, appalled. So people will talk about him?

            Dad was on the top step now, gun in hand, eyes on her. But this psycho wasn't in his line of sight. Brittany needed him to walk back over to her. Oh, God...

            “Y-You’re just a case file, inside a database.” Brittany told him. “Nobody’s going to give you a second look when they catch you.”

            He didn’t like her defiance. Well, Brittany wasn’t too sure where it was coming from. God must’ve hidden it in some part of her brain, reserved for this moment. That resolve quivered though, as he bent down over her, clutched the back of her neck to keep her still.

            “Maybe… I’ll just skip the ceremony and kill you now.” He backed up slightly, grinning. He traced the barrel of his gun under her chin. “No one wants to hear you talk anyway-“

            The shot blasted away all other noise, sending him down in its wave. Brittany didn’t wait for him to hit her floor, just ran from the room and fell into her dad’s arms.

‘&’&’&’&’&’

            Often the question for a cop was 'Could I have saved them?' In the half light outside their house, while the crime scene unit worked to clean up Brittany's room, all Declan was thinking was; 'Should I have killed him?'
             Alex Morria was cuffed and locked in the back of a squad car, his muffled threats a grating annoyance even through the glass. He vowed he'd get out in a few hours, come back and finish his job. Make everybody remember his name. Declan would give anything to ignore his badge and shut him up permanently. But that would require leaving his daughter's side and he wasn't ready to do that yet.
             "Chief." he turned from the open back of the ambulance as Chief Wray approached them. "Please tell me this is almost over."
              "Almost." The chief assured him. "We'll wrap it up within the hour."
              "The ambulance can go home." Brittany tried to give the thermal blanket back to the paramedic for the third time. "I'm fine, really."
               Surprisingly, she was. It had taken awhile for her sobs to subside, but now she was sitting, holding Patty's hand tight, and had given her statement like a pro. Declan rethought that sentence; giving statements was the last thing he wanted Brittany to be well-versed in.
               "Let's go over to the Ottens." Patty suggested with another stroke of their daughter's hair. Declan eyed the chief and he nodded. He leaned in to kiss Patty as she stood. "I'll be over soon."
                Brittany hugged him tight. "We'll be able to move back in, right?"
                Declan considered the blood stain on her rug and the stress he felt at the thought of climbing his stairs one more time. "When we're ready."
                 Patty's face showed her reluctance. Brittany caught it too because she reached out her hand for Patty for take. "Our home, our memories. We're not going to let him take that away, right?"
                Declan feared if she gave him any more reason to be proud, he'd start bawling in front of the entire force. He kissed the top of her head. "Not in the least."

THE END

I think a big worry that families face is the evils of today's world encroaching on the sanctuary of their home. Now matter how old a person gets, they'll always return 'home' to feel grounded and safe again. So, what happens when that's threatened or taken away- by a burglary or something else? Much like the approach I had the King family take in this story, remember...

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal." ~Matthew 6:19-20

A house eventually decays. Home is the people you cried and laughed with while in that house. It's the pictures you took and the feelings you soaked in from one room into the next. Natural disaster and men's evil hearts can't take that away, nor the strength of relationship and character that you built up with your parents, guardians, siblings, whoever. I see the home as another place where God gathers His people for worship. Where we take that special note of the people who are our dearest treasures. 

Those treasures will carry into the next life, where we'll celebrate eternity with Jesus. Where we will truly, and finally, be home!