Never Fails...
In the corner of my mail box, Mother's Day card, Birthday Card, Christmas Card,
Easter card awaits always,...carefully chosen, whispering love in the creases of the cardstock. This time I would reciprocate his love language. In the isle of a supermarket I began my search for the perfect card. A Spanish one would be great, yet this store was void of such thing. Searching... searching....picking up sappy, sweet ones, authors knowing my daddy not; humorous ones, lacking depth of love pooled in me over the last forty years. And always the one with an image of a tie. Oh yes... the tie. But then,
there sticking up behind the tie, a glimpse of the card that would make it to my shopping cart.
It's face projected the legs and shoes of a man, and on them the little stockinged feet of a
girl ... grinning as she danced to the movement of her daddy's shoes. Immediately I was
transfixed...transposed, to moments long ago. Cans of corn, frozen foods, overhead speakers, diminished. Faded. Entangled in the dimension of another time, music filled my ears and I began to sway to sounds, audible only in the recesses of my mind.
How can I capture love in the fibers of a 4X6 space. You have been in this world for seventy years and deeper I could not love you. How can I pen that because of you, I am me. You shaped me, protected me, and valued me then as you do still. And in your passion for dance, you taught me to listen...listen to the tones of the music... and move... move to tempos and cadences of art in sound. We have danced and dance still. We dance together to the music of our lives. The salsas and mambos of the births of grandbabies and the boleros of the passing of parents, brothers and a sweet wife, my mother.
Easter card awaits always,...carefully chosen, whispering love in the creases of the cardstock. This time I would reciprocate his love language. In the isle of a supermarket I began my search for the perfect card. A Spanish one would be great, yet this store was void of such thing. Searching... searching....picking up sappy, sweet ones, authors knowing my daddy not; humorous ones, lacking depth of love pooled in me over the last forty years. And always the one with an image of a tie. Oh yes... the tie. But then,
there sticking up behind the tie, a glimpse of the card that would make it to my shopping cart.
It's face projected the legs and shoes of a man, and on them the little stockinged feet of a
girl ... grinning as she danced to the movement of her daddy's shoes. Immediately I was
transfixed...transposed, to moments long ago. Cans of corn, frozen foods, overhead speakers, diminished. Faded. Entangled in the dimension of another time, music filled my ears and I began to sway to sounds, audible only in the recesses of my mind.
How can I capture love in the fibers of a 4X6 space. You have been in this world for seventy years and deeper I could not love you. How can I pen that because of you, I am me. You shaped me, protected me, and valued me then as you do still. And in your passion for dance, you taught me to listen...listen to the tones of the music... and move... move to tempos and cadences of art in sound. We have danced and dance still. We dance together to the music of our lives. The salsas and mambos of the births of grandbabies and the boleros of the passing of parents, brothers and a sweet wife, my mother.
Yet...we dance.
Now I dance with my Heavenly Father. He dances with me through the music of my life. He spins me, leads me, and weaves me through notes of triumph, sorrow and pain.
All a dance.
Gratitude overflows for giving me an earthly father who set the pace, the cadence to follow my Abba Father. Rhythmically I dance, until the sweet melody of this life fades into the sway of a music beyond. Thank you daddy.
Thank you for teaching me to dance...
for the music...
for the love....
Posts
0 comments:
Post a Comment