Pond Reflections

Pond Reflections

By Sherry Lynn Howard

My best friend doesn’t come to visit anymore.

            I can still recall when he was a young boy, treading through the tall grass on wobbly feet, hurrying to reach my muddy banks. He would slip his bare toes into my cool wetness, splashing as if jumping down into rain puddles. He wore an expression of happiness and guiltless wonder danced within his eyes.

            When he was a school-aged child, he would rush down to me with the neighbor boy in tow, fishing poles swung over their shoulders, anxious to cast a line into my middle. They hoped to get a few bites and told tall tales of catching the “big one”.

            As a teenager, when the January air had chilled me to my core, he sat along my banks with a pretty faced girl at his side. Their faces were flushed as they laced up their skates and stole innocent glances at each other. They carefully stepped onto my iced over crust, twirling and giggling as they enjoyed each other’s company. The girl fell on my iced over glaze, so my friend held out his hand to help lift her up. It was glorious to witness the moment when the laughter ceased and something magical took its place. He leaned in, digging the toe of his skate into my frozen cover, and softly pecked her lips. Time stood still as they locked eyes. It didn’t tick until their smiles grew infectious and they held hands, taking off to skate again.

            After that, the three of us spent our days together. They would come down to my shore often, spreading a blanket out next to me. Sometimes we would share a nice picnic. Other times, they would lay on the blanket as we watched day fade into night. The world would open up for us, revealing a magnificent sky full of twinkling stars.

            One day, my friend came down to my banks, pacing back and forth, dressed up in black and white. His family had gathered around to watch the pretty faced girl walk toward him. She was wearing a lacy vintage dress. They exchanged kind words, tears pooled in their eyes, and rings were placed on their fingers. My friend was smooth when he leaned in to kiss the girl, dipping her back as the crowd erupted in cheers.

            It wasn’t long before the girl’s stomach grew. They would still come down to visit, spreading the blanket out beside me, but they would read stories aloud and listen to soft music. My friend would spread his splayed fingers on her belly, staring in awe when it jiggled. She would giggle, at times she would slip her toes into the liquid pooling at my shore. My friend would tuck her into his chest to keep her warm against the chill coming off my liquid surface.

            They stopped coming to see me. I thought my friend had forgotten about me, but one day he showed up to visit with a tiny version of the pretty faced girl. They stood beside my shoreline, sadness waging wars in his dull eyes. He held the toddler’s hand, a smile trying to peek at the surface of his face. He nudged her toes into my dampness. She shrilly giggled and a grin temporarily stole the sadness from him. The girl waded in my liquid and he chased after her. We taught her how to swim. Soon after, they walked down to me with poles in their hands. We taught her how to fish. It was a splendid day when she slid into skates, for the first time, and we taught her how to twirl. My friend watched her, despair snuck up on him as the past came to light once again. He fell to his knees at my banks, tears pouring from his eyes. The girl went to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. They cried together.

            He stopped visiting after that. Years went by and I didn’t hear him. I became lonely as the seasons passed by and weeds grew up around my shoreline. I would look up at the night sky, but the stars didn’t twinkle as brightly as they once did. In the winters, my iced over glaze would go un-scathed. Our friendship seemed to fade away.

            One day, out of the blue, I heard the roar of an engine. To my surprise, it was my old friend. He stopped the mower at my shore. I noted the way time had changed him. His pale skin was wrinkled with age and his hair was a timeless gray. His hands shook as he stared out over my reflection. He squinted his eyes, seeming to replay our history, as we sat reminiscing.

            Sometime later, with anguish on her face, I saw the grown-up replica of the pretty faced girl again. She cried at my shore holding an urn in her hands. She took off the lid and let the ashes, of my friend, spread out onto my bank. My gentle waves welcoming him as we became one.

             My best friend doesn’t come to visit anymore. Instead, he rests peacefully inside me.

             It’s going to be okay though. We will not be lonely because I hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet treading through the grass.

Serenity

Serenity

By Sherry Lynn Howard

When I hear the word Serenity, I think of a peaceful rolling meadow covered in flowers or the warmth created by a fireplace. It reminds me of tranquil relaxing evenings at home surrounding by loved ones. It’s a word that brings to mind the smooth bluesy voice of Annie Lennox. Serenity to me, is that moment in your life when you’re able to take a deep breath and feel right with the world. Serenity is inner peace.

I’m sure most of us out there are seeking that feeling. Wondering if we will ever find it. When we do find it, we hold on to the moment with all our might. We’re afraid that the peacefulness will slip through our fingers quicker than we can grasp it, leaving us lost and confused. For once we find it, we are constantly searching for it again.

I once believed I had found my peace with my place in the world. I was content with my life, but one word brought all that to halt. Having me once again searching for my warmth. I became lost and afraid.it left me scared of where my life was heading.

Change. It’s one of the most feared words amongst mankind. We, as humans, tend to fall into certain routines and patterns. It’s only common that we like to stick to what we know. I’m not above this myself. I like things to be a particular way and when I get thrown off course, I tend to get anxious. I had no way of knowing that the change I was about to face could very well be the very thing that put me on course with my destiny.

            I’m one of those people who believes that, in this journey that we call life, there are pivotal moments. I believe we are set on a path that will led us to certain points. While, I do believe we make choices that could alter this journey, I also believe that there are times that are just meant to be. There are moments in our lives that are supposed to occur in an attempt at helping us reach our potential. Some call this destiny. Some call it fate. Others call it divine intervention.

            Honestly, I question everything. At times, I tend to overanalyze and rethink situations until it seems redundant. That’s just the way my mind works. I’m overly cautious and think things through more than others. Sometimes, I would say being that way is not a good thing. I’m reserved. I don’t jump without looking.

I’m the type of person who makes pro and con lists. I try to think through every possible scenario before making a decision. Some would call me indecisive. I say I’m just making sure I make the right choice, but I’ll admit this pause is sometimes over-exaggerated. Which, at times, causes me to miss out on opportunities that are placed before me.

            I have a hard time believing in something bigger: A higher power. I know why I have hard time. It’s because I like to be in control of my own life. When I think about the possibility of not being the one in control, I get a little freaked out. My personality demands that I be in control. So, having faith in something more is a real struggle for me.

            I consider myself a believer. Still, I love my rock and roll. I fight for the outcasts. I stand beside the oppressed. I believe in the acceptance of different ideas and I feel that loving the world despite our differences is a much better approach. So, the statement that I’m a believer shocks some of you. No, I’m not a typical believer, but I do believe in someone bigger than all that’s happening here on earth.

I’m also a philosopher. I question everything. I want to know the why, the how, and the what-ifs. I have this great need to understand why I’m here. I sometimes feel like my purpose for being here doesn’t seem to be on the right path. I guess I always thought I was destined to do something spectacular.

As a kid, I envisioned my future as a grand journey. I wanted to be Da Vinci and paint great master pieces. I wanted to be an archeologist, travel the world, and discover something amazing. I wanted to be President and lead our world to a better place. I wanted to write something so fabulous that people would be moved by it. I never imagined I wouldn’t be any of those things. So, to find contentment in a life that wasn’t those things was a feat in itself.

            As a philosopher, I feel like I have this ability to see things differently and think outside the box. I don’t live in a world of black and white. I know some people think they live somewhere in-between. They live somewhere in the grey area. I don’t think I belong there either. I see the reds, blues, greens, vibrant yellows. Our world is such a magical place. I want to live in the green tips of the grass on a new spring day. I want to live in the blue sky after a rain storm has cleansed it. My world, I see it in color.

            I consider my life a kaleidoscope. You twist it and you get to see one color. Twist it another way and you get to see something else. It’s constantly changing and never the same. Thus, bringing out the magic. I’m one of those people who tries hard to notice the magic in life. So many people forget that there’s this world just waiting to be discovered. So, like a kaleidoscope, I gather who I am and what I believe from a wide variety of colors. Twisting and turning to discover something else. Something new.

            Backing up to the beginning, I have trouble putting my faith in someone higher. Sometimes my insecurities get the best of me. There are times that I doubt that what I believe is right. This causes me to hold back and become depressed. I become anxious and insecure with who I am.

Times like those are the ones where I have to reach out for something else. I have to ask for guidance. There are two particular points in my life where I flat out asked, “God, if you’re real show me a sign.”

            I know I’m not the only one to ask and I most certainly won’t be the last. So, when I’d given up on over-analyzing and questioning, I thought why not ask the source. If such a being existed, why wouldn’t they show me the way.

            The first time I asked it was the fall. (Maybe that fact seems unimportant, but it’s key in this story). I’d been reading the Bible from the beginning. I had a determination to read the book from beginning to end. I just knew that If I could make it through, the answers I’d been searching for would be revealed to me. I was about half way through. I was just finishing up the Old Testament. If you’ve ever read the entire Old Testament you may relate, but the only thing I got from that was a lot of confusion about who was related to who.

            I was doubtful that the second half would hold any answers. I just read the entire Old Testament and felt like I didn’t understand a thing. So, I looked to the sky and said, “Alright God, show me a sign because I’m not sure I’m finding it in here.

            Days went by and I didn’t see anything that would lead me to believe that God had given me a sign. I was feeling heavy in my heart. Honestly, I felt let down. I just knew that if he was out there he would hear me and he would answer. Yet, as the days went by, I was disappointed.

            Some laugh and the next part of my story. That’s okay. I sometimes laugh myself. I was getting ready to go to work one evening. I walked out of the house and got into my car. I was pondering the night ahead as I slid into the seat. Weirdly, a movement from the right corner of my eye caught my attention. I looked over. What I saw had me perplexed.

            On the car antenna was a leaf. Not too unordinary, but it was odd enough that I got out of the car and went to inspect the leaf. A leaf being on the car was not unusual but it was the way that it was there. The leaf was down on the antenna. It was as if someone had taken this leaf with their hands and pushed it down onto the antenna.

            As I inspected the leaf, my over analyzing mind went to work. I just couldn’t comprehend how this could happen. This was fall. It was a dead leaf. If someone had taken it and pushed it down on the antenna, it would have crumbled. It would have fallen apart. It wouldn’t be intact perfectly pushed down on the antenna. It couldn’t just blow on to it that way either.

            I circled the front of the car, inspecting the leaf over and over. I slowly started to laugh. I thought to myself. Only God would send me a sign like this. It was perfect to me because of the type of mind that I have. I believe that he knew I would notice and over-analyze. Realizing that this event was more than likely not possible to happen by means of the human world.

            I left the leaf there and drove around with it stuck on the antenna for a long time. After all, it was the sign I had asked for. I told the story to many people over the years and many laughed at me. That’s okay. I still take it as a sign.

            There is one other more personal experience that I attribute to me asking for a sign from above. This one more personal and life altering.

            I loved my job. I had been with my company for 12 years and I was proud of that fact. People my age don’t stick to their jobs. It’s common for my age group to jump from job to job. They seem to be on a constant quest for something better. This was not me.

            I would gladly have died without ever having switched my job. We all know my generation will die working. There won’t be much retiring. Funny thing was, I was okay with that. I had a job I loved. I liked to get up every day and go into the office. I was happy and felt content with where I was.

            That all changed swiftly. The company sold out and eventually our facility merged with another facility. Word of our closing came quickly. I was saddened by this. I felt like this place was my family. In some instances, I knew more about my co-workers than I did my own family. My work life had always felt safe and secure. It was a special place unto itself. A magical place where caring hearts and helping hands saved the world.

            At first, I was optimistic. I was positive. I told others to stay positive, but over time, I watched more and more of my co-workers leave. I myself started to question my place. I began to hate going to work. For the first time, in a long time, I didn’t feel like I belonged. A series of events would occur that would lead me into a depressive state.

            I knew the only way out of the situation was to decide if moving over to the new company was for me. I held on for a long time. Telling myself over and over that I was going to be okay once we got over the initial shock. While, I didn’t like the change, I was willing to work at accepting it. Though, my outlook stayed positive, I became less and less of who I was.

            Looking for a new job was not something I wanted to do. I wanted my old job back. The one I loved. Faced with the truth, I accepted that there would be no going back. I started thinking about finding another job, but I was still very back and forth with how I felt about everything. I searched jobs online and while some were things I could have applied for, nothing spoke to me. Not one job I saw stood out as the one.

            The weird thing was. I didn’t have to look. Eventually, the right place would find me.

            A co-worker knocked on the door to our department one day. She handed the lady I worked with a piece of paper. I saw her looking the paper over, but I didn’t think too much of it. Finally, she came down and handed the piece of paper to me.

 She said, “I think this is for you.”

I looked down at the piece of paper. The word Serenity was written on it. I questioned my co-worker. She told me that the lady who dropped it off thought she may be interested. Only thing was, my co-worker already had a possible job lined up. She told me she was waiting on that job and that she just knew this was my answer.

I kept the piece of paper on my desk for several days. I looked at the ad for the job on Facebook. It seemed exactly like what I was looking for but I held back. Again over-analyzing, I had some uncertainties. One being winter and driving in the snow. Anyone who knows me can tell you, I hate winter and I’m an overly-cautious driver. The other was change. I had not looked for any other type of work in 12 years.

I went back and forth trying to decide if I should apply for the job or not. I didn’t even have my own car. My aunt had been nice enough to drive me to work or let me use her car. So, I wasn’t even sure that I could make this work.

The next morning, I woke to a flat tire. So, I had to call on an elderly friend to take me to work. Something crazy happened and I got talked to at work by my boss. Which, never happened to me before. I was so exhausted trying to fit into the new company. I felt in my heart, time and time again, that this company was trying to push me out, maybe that wasn’t too far from the truth.

That weekend I went home drained and worn out. So very uncertain of where I was headed. I had never felt like this about my work before.

I was sitting at home, that Sunday, doing laundry. Contemplating the road before me. I took on the mundane task while getting lost in my own thoughts. Finally, when I had no direction. I asked, “God, show me a sign. It’s got to be something I understand. Make it clear.”

            Never did I believe that it would be so clear.

            Over the months prior to this event, I had been working on a book. It was the first book I’d ever attempted to write. The weird thing was, that while I was writing I had this strange need to talk about how my characters put their beliefs in the one above. This was not something that I thought I would try to emphasis in my writing. It just came to me as I was going along.  My characters would face some harsh realities, but along the way they would get signs from above. In my story, the sign would come to them and they would just know that they were on the right path.

            In one particular part of the book, one of my main characters is driving along. He just left his old life behind and was trying to find his way. Inside his head he’s talking to God and asking him for a sign that his life is on the right path. So, he’s driving along when the radio goes to static. He hits the radio over and over again. He starts getting angry. When he gives up, the static clears and a song starts to play. It’s Train’s “Calling All Angels”. The song comes on and as he is driving around the bend he sees a girl walking along the side of the road. He can tell that she is hurt and needs his help. In that moment, he realizes that the song is his sign and he knows that he is exactly where he is meant to be. He stops the car and helps the girl. Altering their lives and becoming a pivotal moment.

            So, I’m at home that Sunday afternoon asking for a sign. It’s so crazy. But, I’m walking back and forth doing laundry and contemplating the path ahead of me. All of a sudden, my computer turns on and Train’s “Calling All Angels” starts to play. If you don’t know, the first few lines of the song are as follows:

            “I need a sign to let me know you’re here. All these lines are being crossed over the atmosphere. I need to know that things are going to look up.”

            This sign was specific to me. I used this as a sign in my book. This exact song for a reason. To this day, I can’t tell you how the computer came on by itself or why it was playing that particular song. I’ve decided it’s best to try now to question it. This sign helped me to realize that my path was already set up for me. It was handed to me on a piece of paper. All I had to do was put my faith in the answer.

            I applied for the job with the idea that if it was meant to be, it would happen. I hated to have to change, but I knew that my journey was altering and leading me somewhere new.

            The moment I met with the Serenity family, I knew this was going to be a good place for me. I felt it. Never before had I felt that good about an interview. It seemed like it was all falling into place.

            I did get the job. As I’m writing this now, I know that I’m in the right place. I’m still new and everyone is still figuring me out and I’m still figuring them out, but I feel like I belong here. I feel like I was led here.            

             I think I realize now that the it’s not the big moments that make our intersecting paths worth wild. It’s the small ones. This path started with just a simple name on a slip of paper. It has led me to a great place in my timeline.

            The workers have welcomed me with open arms. Even when I had a temporary setback, they stood beside me. It was more than I could ask for.

            I hear their stories and I see their actions measure up to the type of people that I want to be associated with. They are strong, compassionate, caring, understanding. To put it simply, they are my role models. I aspire to be more like the people that make Serenity what it is.

            Serenity is a Christian based non-for-profit organization that specializes in hospice care. I’m kind of surprised at how much that appeals to me. The Christian part because, though I’m a believer, I have my struggles with my own faith. In this situation though, I know I was led here by God. So, it only makes sense.

            I believe my story is not done. Being led to Serenity is part of that. These people inspire me to achieve my greatness. I want to have the traits I see in each one of them. Maybe they will show me how to reach others and, with my writing, I could make a difference. Truth be told, while my childhood fantasies wanted me to be amazing, I know that all I ever really wanted to do was make a difference. I wanted to touch someone’s life and inspire the greatness in them. I know that’s why I’m here. To learn how to do that from these wonderful people.

            I’m still that girl who struggles with my faith and letting go of control. I’ll always over-analyze, ponder, and question the what-if’s. I always love rock and roll. After all, I’m a kaleidoscope. But, now I know that the signs we seek are out there. Sometimes all we have to do is ask to see them better.

I’m an introvert. Most of the time I keep my thoughts and stories to myself. This story though, it’s meant to be shared. This world we live in is a magical place created by magical people. Some of them inspire others to be better versions of themselves. Some of the best of them work at Serenity and have inspired me.