About seven years ago, in the middle of a wild storm, a huge limb fell in our backyard. We are always heartbroken when we lose a tree limb, and this was a very large one, a very great loss. As my husband was cutting the fallen limb into logs and I was helping stack the logs, we saw that one of the cuts revealed the almost perfect shape of a heart.
I took it as a sign that in the midst of misfortune there is the chance that something in the shape of a heart will materialize, unexpectedly. I know from my own life that this is always true, there is always a silver lining in the cloud, even though I rail against having to look for it sometimes.
I grew up with a mother who looked at life through a pair of rose-colored glasses, and I wish I could find those glasses of hers!
My husband was able to get about four or five heart-shaped slices out of this part of the limb before the heart dissolved into a more circular shape. We kept one and gave the others away. Ours hangs in our kitchen to remind us to look for the heart in the middle of dark times.
I want to give this heart to you today, for I am going to be gone for a few days. I am going on what I like to call a "writer's wretreat" for the rest of this week, and so I want say "Happy Valentine's Day" a little early.
I don't know where I'll be going, but it won't be very far. Only as far as the hinterland of our backyard, or closer, through the back o' beyond of the boxroom, and from there, into the wilds of our kitchen and the wasteland of our mudroom, a little room just behind our kitchen where the washer and dryer sit. A whole clutter of rooms, now that I think of it, in serious need of cleaning and uncluttering.
Maybe my writer's wretreat will be more of a "writer's wrestoration," as in "please wrestore this house to some semblance of sanity so the writer can think straight." And, hopefully, while I am doing all of this cleaning and uncluttering that I am now imagining myself doing, I'll be writing things in my head and figuring out what it is I really want to do next.
I've been going through my old greeting cards, and I think the guardian bag lady is my favorite of all my guardians. It might be a matter of "there but for the grace of God go I," but she taps the most upon my heart.
There is no other person in our culture who wears so much clothing all at one time as the bag lady. So many fabrics, so many patterns, all at once. Dresses and pants, aprons and vests, jackets and coats, not to mention all of her bags, pillowcases, purses, and satchels. It is this mismatched mix-and-match glory that is her great artistic charm.
She does seem to be beckoning me, for she is the essence of both heart and misfortune, the heart of misfortune, perhaps. I have a longing to get into the very heart of her, and so I hope, as I weed out the things that I no longer need, that I will get closer and closer to her, not only in my thoughts, but in my prayers, too. Maybe I have been thinking about her because I've been wanting to follow Mendofleur in her quest here to examine collecting and hoarding. And, sometimes, in my case, the hanging onto for dear life.
We have a van that comes every few months right to our doorsteps to pick up unwanted clothing, small appliances, bedding, and kitchenware. They are coming this week and I hope to have several bags for them.
This heart from our fallen tree limb, my thoughts about my bag lady, my cluttered house so badly in need of spring-cleaning, have all given Valentine's Day a new meaning for me this year, for I want to enlarge the compass of my love. Oh, so easy to say while I am sitting here, all safe, in my chair. But still, if I say it, perhaps it is the first step for loving more, caring more.
Happy Valentine's Week, then, and I do so hope to see you back here next week!
.
