Monday, July 25, 2011

The Stairs Have Gone Asunder.

I once slid a refrigerator down those stairs that are now asunder. The door in the peak was once my seal to the world. Maybe this is why I have nightmares about incomplete staircases? We once hid a cat for 18 months with the landlady living below. I remember stuffing her into a closet when we heard a knock on the door.

Allow me to clarify...

It was the cat that I stuffed in the closet, not the landlady. We always secretly feared that the landlady would lay in wait for us in the dark basement. It was lit by a single bulb that hung from a rusty chain in the middle of the cobwebbed darkness. After watching Silence of The Lambs I always imagined that when I pulled the chain I would be met with her face staring like stone into my eyes.

1995 was the year we said our vows and built our home at the top of the stairs that have now gone asunder. $250 a month with a reduction every time I mowed the lawn. If we ran low on cash, it was mowed frequently. I remember hanging my Dole/Kemp sign from the banister.

I still think of the Saturday Night Live skit and the line, "Bob Dole likes Peanut Butter."

These were our beginnings. Ramen Noodles, Cans of Pringles, an occasional fire department visit, hidden felines and rippers in the basement.

About 300 square feet, a 13' TV with bunny ears, and a Brother Word Processor. A single car that ran (most of the time) and a bicycle that I rode 3 miles to and from my evening shifts at the mental health center. We owned the world.

I like to look back at where I've been to see if there is any hope of reaching the place I am drawn towards. I am not naturally inclined to regret the past or to fear the future. I believe that who I am today is a summary of both. My faith and deep belief do not allow room for doubt.

There is no room for fear in this aerosol existence. The duration and condition of my temporal abide is mere static against the pulse of this timeless heart.

I hear far too much preaching and see far too little doing. Despair and worry are companions of the stalled. Far too many people choke the joy from their own throats with the unwillingness to put feet to their conviction. I will trade away like garbage in a can the dual charades of fear and hope for the truth of belief and action.

I have lost all tolerance for worrisome Christians. I will not fear for tomorrow. I will not waste a single day allowing my energy to be sapped by doubt.  No one wins a race by fearing a fall.

I remember those days in that attic apartment and I remember them with a peaceful sort of smile. The worries that threaten to consume my soul today are rubbish. They get in the way of this present.

Our worries either are too small to really matter, or they are too big to really solve. What is important is that we recognize the moment that we are given, this eternity that remains... and is known simply as now.

In the quiet darkness of the cellar of my soul, what will I see when I pull the rusty chain?

The stairs are gone asunder... and yet the door at the threshold remains. 

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