B: Hey, come out here and see what I found!
Me: Oh my, what is it?
B: It’s a pig!
Yesterday, he was digging out roots from the bushes out front. Underneath was a miniature cast iron pig. Later that evening I remembered that it was the same place where the little concrete bird was found last year. I took the bird off the mantel and showed him.
Me: I wrote a piece about the bird I found in the same place.
B: Oh, you wrote an emotional blog thing about the bird?
Me: Yeah, I suppose so.
B: Are you going to write about the pig?
Me: I’ve been thinking about it. I have decided that the meaning behind finding the pig is that I should eat more bacon.
Then, today happened. Out of my closet I pulled out my pink sweater that I hardly ever wear. My boss wore a pink jacket. I saw pink roses in a bouquet at work. At lunch with friends, they ordered dessert called Rose Pana Cotta. One said that it tasted like an old grandma’s perfume. Then I had a bite and said, “That’s it! Yes, it tastes like Rose Milk lotion like my grandma used to wear!” I smiled and said that it felt like my grandma just hugged me.
I always feel better when my grandma visits me. Most of the time, it’s in a dream. Today it was all that pink. I’ll take it whenever I get it.
So, what does the pig have to do with anything? Maybe I’m just thinking about how we choose to find meaning in some things and not others. Maybe it’s about finding rest until one is ready to come out of hiding. Maybe it’s about perseverance in finding treasure in neglected foliage. Maybe it’s just a pig.
I come to the garden alone and He still comes, and I still belong.
I’ve had a tune stuck in my head for days. It’s an old hymn and one of my favorites, Into the Garden. It reminds me of my grandma Katherine and the old Methodist church in Hammond, KS that we used to go to when we would visit our grandparents farm in Fort Scott. I can imagine myself there, how the air felt, the creak of the pews, the smell of the old books and freshly perfumed senior citizens. I miss it. I miss church. I haven’t been to church in a while. That’s about 3 blogs worth of explanation for a later date.
Sometimes, my grandma comes to me in a dream. Or, I dream of her. Or, I have a dream and she is present. That all depends on your perspective. When this happens, I feel peaceful. She was a petite, busy, kind woman who smelled like roses and gave me long squeezy tight hugs. I miss her. I miss the farm. Maybe she will visit me tonight? Sweet dreams.
Clouds are gathering as I am outside on the deck. I see swirling clouds and the sky darkening. I hear a large cracking boom, turn to see the funnel forming and a cloud shaped hand coming at me. I run. The water comes over me. I open my eyes and I am safe.
I walk back up the long staircase toward the sunlight. I know the storm is lingering but hope it is finished. I go back out to the edge of the deck and see the clouds gathering and they begin to swirl…
Last night I had a dream that provided me with such a deep feeling of clarity that even in my dream I was overwhelmed to the point of passing out. I woke up this morning feeling exhausted but content and absolutely ready to understand all things complicated in life. Before I got out of bed I wondered, “Now what was that stuff I figured out? Hmmm. Well, it will come to me in a minute. I’ll remember the conversation and the words and the thoughts and the feelings and all will be right in my world.”
I started to panic.
Surely a dream this powerful will reveal itself!
Not ever, perhaps.
Quick re-cap about my dream last night:
I was at a restaurant, there was a teeny little dog in the bathroom, I leaned over to pet and it licked my cheek. It hurt like a bee sting, I looked in the mirror and it was a little spot of blood. I realized that the dog must have bitten me, but why? I came out of the bathroom and told people that the dog bit me and they did not believe me. Then, I felt it. I looked in another mirror because I could feel the blood running down my face. There was bright red blood running from my hairline. I kept looking and feeling on my hair to see where the blood was coming from but that just made the blood come faster. My shirt was soaked in blood. I shouted, “I’m bleeding!” No one looked at me, they just nodded, smirked, and looked away. I felt dizzy and wondered if I would faint. I left the restaurant and started walking away, hoping that someone would come after me and help. I could hear him behind me in the distance, “Okay, I believe you, wait!” And I kept walking.
I could feel a light breeze on my skin but the leaves in the trees were still. I wondered if I was dreaming or if I had finally breathed my way to a moment of peace.
That was days ago and I am still drawn to the memory of that moment in time, the ever-so-brief feeling of contentment.
I had a dream that I was sitting on a sofa with him. I was cooking in the kitchen, wandering around a house, sleeping in a bed. He was there and it was silent. There were sounds of daily life and existence but no words were exchanged. No touch. No looks. Then I realized I must still be married. I thought I had moved on but there I was–still stuck. I could not breathe and I woke up disoriented, disappointed, and frightened. After a few moments, clarity prevailed and I was safe. And wide awake. And relieved. And alone. And happy. And sad.