"How are you doing?" The sincere question pulsed in the air, waiting for a response. Kathy hesitated and her friend immediately noticed. "Really, how are you doing?" Sarah's eyes bore into Kathy's, pressing her for a true answer.
Kathy's thoughts raced and stumbled over each other trying to reach the correct pigeon-hole of truth and reality. How was she doing, really?
Kathy - packing, preparing for the rapidly approaching evacuation. Her steps pulling her away from the books so carefully tucked away in the box. Her hand touching the case that had held them for years. A case built to her specifications, stained the perfect deep cherry she loved. She would have to drop the books off at the thrift store.
Kathy – shivering in the cold winter air as she stubbornly sat in the porch swing, gently rocking, her eyes constantly moving from the mountain scene before her to the mountain scene to her right and over to the neighbors on her left. It was quiet on the porch, a quietness found only here. She grabbed the blanket that had slipped off her shoulder and pulled it in close. Her cat jumped onto her lap and burrowed into the blanket seeking warmth. Kathy's breath caught in her chest – the cat! Another drop off, to be sure. If she left her here, how would she survive?
Kathy – serving Sunday dinner from three crock pots. The smell of roast blended with onions and potatoes saturating the air. Laughter everywhere. The baby pulling canning lids from the drawer and tossing them in a circle around her body. The toddler thundering by as he pushed the stool across the tile, the noise almost unbearable. Games being cleared from the table so the family could eat, whistles sounding to notify all that dinner was finally ready. Laughter – again – always laughter at these times of family gatherings. Moments peaked by an occasional snippet of sibling frustration and parental irritability. She moved from the counter to the spice cupboard, quickly crossing the familiar space, just as the voices silenced, waiting for prayer. Turning, her eyes twinkled as she swept past each beloved face.
Kathy – curled up in the small front room, shivering again, this time because the gas fireplace refused to burst into warming flames. She thought of calling her son in again to fix the problem. She shook her head, knowing that it would be a wasted endeavor. Still, the warmth and feel of gently contained flames soothed the soul. Maybe in her new home - wherever that might be - there would be a small fire.
Kathy – sitting in the family's quiet room, her bedroom really, but until bedtime, it was the family's peaceful retreat. Now her eyes burned with unbidden tears. Here was where she counseled her children, solved the problems that come with running the home, planned and dreamed, organized resources and juggled needs and wants. Here she created, here she soothed. This was the room where she called on the best of herself and gave it to those who needed her. Closeness, quietness, mixed with dashes of fun and laughter. She could see her daughters and her daughters-in-law – sitting and talking, telling tales of love and frustration, but mostly simply sharing life with each other. She could see her sons quietly coming in and wanting to talk in a place where the deepest questions could be asked and carefully answered. Where would the “talking” place be when she left here?
Kathy – looking at the table and seeing her husband, arms folded, eyes twinkling, calling for prayer. Looking at the couch and seeing her husband, face intense, fingers pressing on the game controller, arms whipping back and forth as he played with his sons and sons-in-law. Looking across the lawn and seeing him again, pulling the hose and frowning because of hated yard work, even while he created a green environment in a pocket surrounded by weed-ridden land because he knew she loved beauty. Looking at the chair beside her in their room and once again seeing only him, her heart racing, her smile gently touching her face, as she closed her eyes in sleep, knowing that she was safe while he was beside her.
“Really, Kathy, how are you doing?” The tiny question broke through her memories. “I know hard times are forcing you to leave your home and that must be killing you inside.”
Kathy smiled, and when she did the light in her eyes flared into brilliance. “I'm good. I never thought leaving a house could be so painful, but I'm still breathing. I thought – I worried – that if I lost my home, my family would never find that same incredible unity they found here. I still wonder what a difference it will make in our lives, how we'll ever manage to all be together again in one place with so many children and grandchildren.” Her voice became raspy as she fought against an uncontrolled wave of grief. “But, who we are, how we love, it isn't the home, you know. It is the heart and soul of being a close and united family.”
She smiled again, sincerity vibrated with every word. “We all tend to look at the worst thing in our lives and think, this is it. This is all that I'm about – the worst whatever – death of a child, poverty, pain and illness, hurt and betrayal. . . loneliness. It is almost natural to let that worst thing color everything, veiling all the good from view. And it is a terrible lie forced on us to capture our minds and hearts, rendering us unable to rise above whatever that horrible thing might be.”
Her friend nodded slowly, half in agreement, half wondering exactly what Kathy was saying. She knew Kathy's heart was reaching out, attempting to teach something important. Glancing at the last of the boxes being loaded into the truck by the children, she just couldn't grasp the message.
Kathy bent down, picked up her beloved cat and gently placed her in Sarah's arms. “Take care of her please. She can't go where we are headed.” Wiping a small tear from her cheek, Kathy stepped towards the car holding her youngest children. Turning back, her smile was honestly radiant.
“I'm okay. My family is solid, full of laughter, companionship, unity and with their feet firmly planted in the teachings of our home,” glancing at the beloved structure behind her, “no, the teachings of our lives. Most people tend to look at the worst thing and think – this is it. My family – every single individual - has chosen to look at the beauty around us, at the elation of life itself, and at the true security of eternal relationships and we know – I know - beyond all doubt – this goodness truly is our reality.”
Sarah watched as Kathy's small caravan drew out onto the road, carefully cutting in between the long string of cars, all leaving their homes because the bad times had forced that reality upon them. Amid the colorless line of vehicles, only Kathy's small group glowed with an unexplainable inner light. Kathy's final message at last vibrated in Sarah's heart.
“This goodness truly is our reality.”
