The Space Between

”Faith from Ruin” last time ~ Graceful Kindness

“Good morning Mommy!” her tiny voice chimed. “Are you awake?”

Clara stretched and turned her head toward her daughter. A laugh caught in her yawn “I am now. Let’s get dressed and go see Miss Ida.”

“For cookies?”

“I don’t know Button. It’s rude to ask, but if she offers, sure.”

After showers and some much needed girl primping, they slipped on light jackets against the brisk Northern air that blew in overnight. This time the office was warmly lit, and the door unlocked. Clara closer her eyes and breathed in the smell of fresh brewed coffee. She saw a beautifully set side table, resplendent with treats and delicate cups for coffee. She hadn’t noticed the welcoming warmth of the tiny lobby the night before.

Sharons table & cookies

“Clara! How wonderful. Did you and Lucy sleep well last night? Help yourself to a cup of coffee and a cookie.”

They stepped over to the table. Clara poured a cup of coffee and handed a cookie to Lucy and took one for herself.

“Ida, thank you so much for your kindness. Shall we get thing squared away?”

Waving her off Ida smiled wide and pooh-poohed, “Oh, pshh! I can see plain as day you need a place for a bit. Just fill out a room card and don’t even worry about the rest.”

Her eyes widened and filled she stammered, “I-I don’t know how you know, but I-I can’t thank you enough.”

She turned away, sniffled swiping at her eyes. “Um, can you tell me where St. James Church is? I, um, well I need to find it.”

“Sure thing sweetie. Come look at the town map.”


Clara couldn’t explain why she trusted Ida completely, but she took her up on the offer to watch Lucy while she went to St. James. She parked her silver Malibu on the street in front of the church. The church was like a miniature Gothic cathedral, complete with a tower and steeply pitched roof which made it appear much taller. Her sneakers squeaked on the shiny marble floors. She dipped fingers into cool Holy water and blessed silently, Father-Son-Holy Spirit. She drifted forward quietly, slid into a pew, first seated on the cool oak then kneeling on sunken, well-worn kneelers.

The familiar comfort of echoes, and groans always found within sacred walls, eased her worries, walls where she felt safe from pain. Eyes closed she saw arms stretch out to her offering warmth and repose. She heard occasional quiet tap tap taps and kneelers creak as other mortals came and went.

Clara slowly calmed into steady tranquility as her internal conversation continued and the space between the turmoil of her flight, and the peace where her soul truth dwelt was bridged.


Write at the Merge-Week 36

This week at Write at the Merge we were given this for inspiration:

“This week, I’m going to ask you to write about the space between, the pause between two events using the following as prompts: Led Zepplin’s Ramble On or Dave Matthews Band ‘The Space Between’. I’m going to ask you to write about the space between, the pause between two events”

I’m a huge Dave Matthews fan back before they were big and touring all over the Northern US playing in small venues and stacking up fans. Of course, I chose The Space Between and lucky me, it is perfect for Faith from Ruin.

Photo of cookies and coffee provided lovingly by my dear friend Sharon. A piece of her heavenly home.

I Believe

With cool water, I bless, Father, Son, Holy Spirit, kneel and weep. The crimson light proclaims His Body, Blood, and Soul. Mourning your haunted, prodigal faith, mine soars in light 2000 years old.

Trifecta’s Trifextra: Week Fifty Seven asks us to write a piece of first person narrative in 33 words. This is my bit using my own voice.

One of my favorite songs ever. I use to play flute in a group at weekend Mass. Every time I hear this song, it makes me weep. I loved playing the flute part, so pure and so haunting. It speaks of my faith and my love for my faith. I truly believe.

Trifecta: Trifextra Week fifty seven

A Friend – A Journey – A Faith

I was fourteen when you came into my life, blessed and brought from Rome. A gift but neglected and ignored like a shirt given but not really wanted. Hidden away and unimportant. Many years you were ignored and insignificant. I really had no use for you because you were like gossamer; thin, wispy and insubstantial.

But I was young.

Your value went unrecognized far along the diverse trail I traveled. The journey bore unrealized, abundant blessings but I was blinded by the perils. There was love and marriage. A sweet, polite, tender boy, an energetic, determined boy then a beautiful, willing, determined girl. Inexperienced and wide eyed, I fell into many craters and tripped over abundant pebbles, stones and boulders, and failed to see hidden behind the dirty faces, late dinners and sleepless nights, the captivating tenderness and certainty of my family.

But I was learning.

Restlessness, despair, sorrow and fear found me and I found you where you are; by my side. I reached for the coolness to sooth my pain as I clutched and wept with you. Release as warm comfort swept over me and washed out valleys of misery and solace rose to the surface.

But I was naive.

Forgetting the comfort and peace you brought when I was desperate, we rarely shared, but you waited. Waited because the path is never clear and a time would come when I would stumble, lose my balance and reach for you.

And then I understood.

I found deep despair, driven by my sick baby. I found answers, and you helped me to surrender my will for His will. You taught me I must pray from my soul and not from my head. Soothed and peaceful, I clutched you in my hand. Awareness pierced my understanding – no prayer is answered unless it has been asked.

And I grew.

Discovering I can count on you not for you but what you bring me. Held in my hand, prayers drift from mind, to lips to God. We’ve traveled, slept, lived together. Rejoiced, mourned and maintained. You are fifty nine beads; blessed and holy. Simple connected beads in my hand, a gift that gave me a gift. Appearing as a chain but really a lifeline to my devout love of God. Clouds and blindness clear and focus. My perception is bright and I see God.

Now I believe.


Written from a prompt provided by RemembeRED: Personification

Do objects have a memory? Does a rocking chair hold the essence of the snuggles it has witnessed? Does a pottery mug remember the comforting warmth it offered a struggling soul?

The dictionary defines personification as “the attribution of a personal nature or human characteristics to something nonhuman, or the representation of an abstract quality in human form.”

This week, tell a piece of your story from the point of view of an object who bore witness.

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood

Losing the Keys

Father Tim, our associate pastor preached a wonderful sermon Sunday morning about the gifts of emulating the habits and sacrifices of the Holy Family. There are lessons to be learned for moms from the Blessed Mother and for dads from St. Joseph. Sacrificing yourself for your family like Mary did when she said “yes” to God’s call to be the Mother of His Son, Jesus. Sacrificing yourself for your family like Joseph did when he made the decision to live his life by faith and trust in God’s plan.

Apparently following the example and lives of Mary and Joseph is easier said than done. This beautiful sermon went into my brain and left a mark. Yes, it indeed left a mark, otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting here now peeling away the layers that drifted over as soon as I left the church. You see, the devil has a way of stepping in the way of important, necessary messages. He put obstacles in my path and threw a mirror in front of me so I would immediately begin to focus on poor little me.

I left behind the keys I needed to fully benefit from the gifts. It was the additional message to find the time for regular prayer and silence away from the clatter and noise of daily life to ask for guidance and hear the answers. Leaving prayer behind when I try to move my life toward a closer relationship with God is like forgetting the keys to my car and expecting it to start.

I realized the error in the process, and have gone back inside to pick up the keys. Praying is a habit and I find when I lose the habit, I truly have lost the keys to the car that can take me on a remarkable journey. If I take for granted God is going to supply everything I need without asking, without prayer, without the keys, I’m just stuck sitting in the dark garage wishing I could go somewhere. I get frustrated, angry and depressed because I’m just sitting in one place, going nowhere.

Today is a new day, and with this new day I’m getting ready to get back on the road to experience amazing things, see wondrous sights and bask in the light of The Son.

I have my keys.

Ready, set, GO!