The Red Brick Courtyard

(By: Janet Leadbeater)

The courtyard was red;

the bricks, the tree in the middle, it's leaves

The walls all about me, the way, everything.

It was all red.

I stood in the middle;

holding a red leaf in my hand 

and watched the wind slip it from my grasp.

I watched it fly on the wind.

I mourned its passing;

and all together my hands felt empty.

I watched as the wind stirred up the leaves.

then I moved one foot in front of the other

I watched as the red blew beyond me

The striking color touched my senses. 

The wind blew up my brown curls,

and the red brick remained

Red leaves, Red brick, Red life

It all surrounded, but refused to touch me.

alone, alone in the courtyard

There I stood in awe of its beauty.

Warm Soup and Love

Her chubby hands held the pencil with strength and precision. She looked down on her piece of artwork with such concentration as would be a grown adult. The flower was long stemmed and stout in its petals that it seemed too tall for the bloom but it still looked beautiful.There is something so innocent in the drawings of a child. the clouds, the sun, the uneven grass all portray an ideal world through the eyes of innocence. The butterfly with its unrealistically round wings flew in the air of the parchment and made me smile. She created a beautiful and childlike world that gave me peace and I stared in wonder as she created it before me

Once she was done she folded the sheet of paper in half and handed it to me, "It's for you!" she said. She was so proud. I gleamed with excitement, "Really?! It's beautiful! thank you Winni." Her chubby cheeks produced two little dimples as her bright eyes smiled up at me. She turned to her sister and said something in Mandarin. Her sister came and they began to play games with the crayons. This is a small world in which I can find peace and solace from the world. In this place I felt safe from all the hurts the world created. It is in the innocence of her drawings, the laughing and foreign language in the background and the delicious food to fill my stomach that I feel a surrogate sense of a family. Sometimes it is in the small warm touch of a child's fingers clinging to my own that give me peace. It's the love behind the act. It is the intent of the heart. I love the warmth of this families heart.

My day was pretty bad. I went to my favorite restaurant to escape and I was graced with the presence of a Chinese family that I visit entirely TO much! But they don't mind :) The kids sat around me coloring, laughing and cutting bats out preparing for Halloween as I ate dinner. Their mom came to the table with their snack which was a red bean soup that tasted sweet with a fungus in it called tremella fuciformis that lent the sweet flavor. She asked me if I wanted some and of course I said yes! It definitely is not a dish that would be on the menu. haha! She brought it to me and it was 2 things.

1. It was delicious!
2. It was definitely different

I knew in that moment as I sat with the children as their parents worked back in the kitchen and we ate the soup that I was home. It doesn't make sense, and I suppose it isn't meant to be. However, as I sat there reflecting on my life and the incidents there of I knew that God had sent me a gift. He sent me a family that I could cuddle up next to and laugh with, play games with and eat a foreign food with. I was comforted and after a long hard day, I felt warmer and willing to leave the restaurant to face life again head on.

The Fall

Have you ever just watched the world of grass in the fall? It is a wonderful and rather exquisite thing to behold. Warmth soaks into the damp earth, the green contrast teases the scarf of orange leaves that daintily cover the green. Green and Orange winged insects playfully dance from blade to blade. They, camouflaged seem unreal and hidden until like a ghost, glide to one spot from another. How beautiful it is to see

The leaves whisper from the canopy, preparing and sharing secrets of their age old traditions. The time would soon come where silence would fill the nakedness of winter and their whispers would cease. But for now they were content to shed themselves of the past year and transition into sleep, the deepest of sleeps. How comforting it must be to be wrapped in layers of life that only man can cut down. What a comfort indeed.

But for now the grass is alive and well. Living on the bed of life it lets life itself flourish. The squirrel nervously twitches as its instincts give it the clear to run across the green. It's poofy tail sways with life flirtatiously as it hops towards its goal. Brown and boisterous, its curiosity leads it. Yes, the green is alive indeed.

But it is fall and like all falls it must come to an end. The dark sets in and the chill of winter presses against your skin. The only hope that gives you strength to endure is the promise of spring. And so, I pull my scarf closer around my shoulders. I sway from one foot to the other. My reverie comes to an end when I remember that we met in the fall and we loved through the winter but in the spring comes the final and most beautiful ending. With a warm heart I realized that it was the fall I never expected. Gathering myself I smile, take in a deep and cool breath and head inside to the hustle and bustle of life.

Clipped Wings

The garden was an oasis

She sat in silence like a statue

breathing in the essence

like perfume to the senses

the bird bath full of life

water flying all around

birds wings flapping 

It was exquisite in its sounds

She sat in the grass

green, lush and cool

droplets from the bird bath

like aloe soothed her soul

but one bird on the grass

hopping up and down

wings spread open

could not fly around

She watched confused

while pity gripped her heart

she arose and gently picked up the bird

and there she saw the absurd

clipped wings

the bird could not fly

as good as dead

this bird was sentenced to die

his voice rang through the garden

like a thunder storm it shook her reverie

gripping the bird protectively
she turned and instantly perceived

clipped wings

what a painful place to be

wishing to fly

but only touching the cement

never to be free

His Bluff

His red playing cards in hand

My own in position

they stood in stark contrast

the many options i thought I had

His shades hid his brown eyes

I didn't care to conceal mine

it was a one sided mirror

his eyes, mine ready to fight

we sat in silence 

me in tense anticipation

the moment would come

when we would both know 

unspoken words but emotions high

I let it all slide

I was confident with chance

the red cards they never lie

defiant till the end 

I wanted to call his bluff

i took a deep breath

his voice filled the air

he called it

my nerves stretched taut 

I felt unprepared and bare

I wanted the control

i tapped my fingers against the cold cards

staring at his hidden eyes i glared

nervous and warm i laid them down

and silence filled the quiet room

he didn't twitch 

he laid his cards down

the cold wooden table 

what a long fall 

and there they were

his losing cards

I felt triumphant

but I knew inside that he let me win

The Beautiful

It was warm on the bank of the river as the grain of the sand itched between my toes
but it was worth the feeling as I heard the soft tide come in and then move back out on the mini shore
The sun was a faithful companion as it loyally rested above me in the cobalt blue sky
my mind traveled in and out of memories from the past
into the present and back into the past I would sway back and forth
like the soft breeze that carried tendrils of my hair onto my shoulder and then off into the air
my mind danced and danced
I wished I could quiet the thoughts in my mind but they continued
violence, darkness, blackness and then light and softness danced back and forth in my soul
my stomach twisted and in turn loosened with each polar memory that washed over me
but I sat there under the sun with my toes lightly dipped in the banks of the riverfront
I sat there in quiet lands as the winds within raged
memories so many memories
I felt so many regrets and wishing it could all be erased took over my delicate heart
I could feel the warm trickle of a tear anoint my cheek in surrender
ashamed, dark, and black my soul felt as I sat in subjection to the beauty around
I breathed in the heavy scent of the woods behind me
This is a peaceful place where pine and dirt mixed with rain to create a salve of comfort
for my black heart
A deep staggering breath filled my lungs as another memory assaulted my mind
and another tear.
would it ever end? would this torment always be?
My body ached from the battle and in surrender I prayed to the God above the blue sky begging to die
but the shore still sang its rhythmic tune and the warm sun stayed true
It was the beautiful that brought me back to this place
It was the pureness of it all, like a shawl it covered my head with comfort and peace
another memory
I like a small child on her knees begged to see clearly
repentant and desperate I opened my black heart
and then the peaceful shore quieted its tune and I felt a warmth like words on the soul
like a hand on my shoulder I could feel His hand resting on me
and I knew, I truly knew the purest beauty was with me
My dark soul lightened through the bright light that ministered to me
and the tears sprang forth as the tide washed over my vulnerable feet
like ointment it washed me clean
His beauty washed through me and for the first time in a long time my mind stopped dancing
and I could rest in peace

"What can we say about all this? If God is on our side, can anyone be against us? God did not keep back his own Son, but he gave him for us. If God did this, won't he freely give us everything else? 

-Romans 8:31-32

(Photo by Keith Levit)

A House and A Home

The sunlight was warm and chilled on the wind this day that I stared out the window of the ghetto red car I rode in. I felt the cool airy breeze through my fingers as I lazily kept my hand out the window. I had my head resting against the head rest of the chair as I looked up into the blue sky that so deeply contrasted the deep green canopy of the neighborhood trees. It's a beautiful and precious thing to behold these car moments. I thought back on the house that I had just come from and a sadness swelled deep within my heart.

It's the simple pleasures in life that send a yearning within me. For me its the scent of the cut grass on the lawn, the smell of a well used garage with tools hanging on the walls. It is the lovely and well visited kitchen with its pots and pans that have to be at least ten years old. It's the couch in the basement, that is otherwise known as the family room. It's these rare gifts that for many is taken for granted that cause me the deepest of sadness and leave me wanting.

The laughter of a family is a precious gift, and those that have that precious gift don't realize how beautiful it really is. This car ride down the neighborhood road, with all its houses and homes. It with it's mail man, joggers, and trampolines is a place that holds warmth and security. It's a fond memory of what once was, before it all came crashing down. I lost a house and a home on that day. It was a home that may not have been the warmest, it may not have been the most functional, or even the grandest of places, but it was where the reality of my parents and siblings existed. It was before the separation, and before the ripping of those sacred threads. If it is anything, it is now just a fond memory.

Even if it wasn't the warmest of homes, when there is no home at all it is just as heartbreaking. My mother says a home is where the family is. I agree with her, but there is something so warm about walking onto the porch of a house you grew up in. There is something so lovely about sharing dinner on holidays not with half the family but as a whole unit. . . It is the way it should be. Do I have these car moments often? Do I cry every time I see a neighborhood? No, but its the unexpected moments, when I am just living life that I find myself mourning for something that can never be again. It seems like a cruel injustice, but an injustice that must continually be dealt with each breath that I breath.

The little girl on her bike is riding on her driveway, the man is jogging with his wife on the sidewalk as we pass, the elderly lady is watering her roses. Then there is me. There is me, an impostor that is riding in this neighborhood. I came to visit a friend. Exiting from this world that is no longer my own. Into another world where apartments, unpaid bills, sadness and torn families wait. Where words lose their luster and life seems dimmer. It's dramatic and over emphasized in my heart I realize but it doesn't change the fact that it is there.

The street has come to an end and the moment has passed. We turn right onto the main road and are back on Linderburgh with it's busy traffic and stop lights lining the long stretch. I pull my hand in from outside and feel the warm temperature on my chilled hand. It feels like such a strong contrast. I grab my shades from my purse and put them on and turn from the window. This is the reality that I live, the memories I will just have to bury them again.