Serving Barnwell County and it's neighbors since 1852
November days are no doubt shorter,
When Old Man Wind comes whistling,
The refraining melody only he can sing.
How can it be that Winter’s coming;
The holidays already here?
November thanks are truly given,
As rustling leaves harmonize with family near.
From the 1993 poem A Year of Hope by Donna-Maria Conzalina
Old Man Wind…Mother Nature…Father Time. Just a few of the labels we humans assign in hopes of obtaining a closer connection with the vastness of creation around us. And Old Man Wind is blowing through my mind today reminding me, when I first composed A Year of Hope, I was a younger, both physically and emotionally version of myself. Life was very different then. I was in my mid thirties and like a lot of us, those were some of the busiest family years. My children were delightfully young. In contrast, my cherished, elderly parents, each suffering with declining health, lived next door. Our lawns had a path worn between, from family footsteps trotting back and forth. Day after day, year after year our lives mingled between both homes. Looking back now, I didn’t realize how sweet that pathway was. It led us to the arms of love that we’ll never feel around us on this earth again. Dad passed away 4 years before Mom was called to her Eternal Home shortly after I completed the last verse of that rhyme.
I often wonder if I amply relayed how much I appreciated my folks. I hope so. They influenced me more than anyone with their devotion to God and family. I believe that’s why it was so important for me to be a stay-at-home-mom, like my mother. Being there for little eyes and hearts to turn to anytime day or night. So, as much as possible while my littles were growing up, I worked from home; painting an occasional sign or mural to help make ends meet while juggling everything else life tossed our way.
Staying busy became the norm between caring for my children, the house, marriage issues, work assignments and helping my elder sister care for my parents’ needs. I didn’t take time to grasp how much everything was taking a toll on me until I too, like my parents, wound up in the hospital. It was an unpleasant surprise when I woke up one day to a red flag. My legs were covered with bruises like a dalmatian’s coat and I was too weak to stand back up from the floor as I dressed my one year old daughter. Short explanation: my vitamin levels were seriously out of whack. It happens. We don’t always recognize our own limits when we long to be there for everyone else. We push ourselves to keep going. Dodging meals, rest and necessary self care. I think sometimes God intervenes with a dose of tough love. He ensures we slow down with obstacles as such; especially for those of us who are overly willful. And I’m not proud of myself to admit, even after that wake-up-call, I still carried on like a hamster on an activity wheel. When my folks, within a few years of each other were Heavenly reunited, a large part of my days abruptly became, mournful, unfamiliar downtime.
I vividly remember standing on our front porch one chilly night after “Winkin, Blinkin and Nod” were tucked in. Life was irregular with that extra evening time restlessly sitting on my praying hands. No longer was I running next door, helping bathe mom, feed her or sitting at the foot of her bed asking her to share memories, thoughts and dreams I’d treasure for the rest of my days. I stood there, the cool night air around me. I asked God to please direct my steps as that new reality hit me hard. My folks weren’t there. And it hurt to accept that our earthly visits were part of the past. Something deep inside me ached to fill the hours I’d devoted to them with some new thing that would honor and keep their spirits nearby somehow.
As I prayed, looking up towards the heavens, my eyes were drawn to a very bright shining star, or possibly a planet. I don’t know for sure but, I couldn’t take my eyes off of it as if it were a fixation. My attention was completely absorbed when suddenly the cool air became a gentle breeze, then a whirling wind. I wrapped the blanket on my shoulders tighter around me while still fixated on that light. As the wind blew, two small, peculiar shaped clouds moved into my frame of sight. One appeared to be a jagged formed “J”. The other, distinctly a “V”. Truth bumps, goosebumps, Holy Spirit hair raising skin or whatever you may call it covered me as I immediately recognized the message God was sharing. My father’s given name was Joseph, my mother’s, Viola. I have those bumps on my skin again now as I type this. Clearly as the letters joined together with the next windy gust, they created a rough, but obvious, heart shape around that bright light. I believe He was telling me Mom and dad were together and all was as it’s supposed to be in Heaven and on Earth.
Just as quickly as the clouds formed, the word “Heartwind” sounded in my thoughts. So much so that I impulsively went inside, inspired to design a business card logo: “Heartwind Creations”. I believe; as much as I believe there’s a sky above me and ground below, He was telling me to spend those extra hours honoring Him with every piece of art and writing I’d create from then on. A devotion to Him, in their memory, because the one thing they impressed on me more than anything else was to keep my faith first and foremost. And since then, everytime “Old Man Wind” howls, I gaze up and remember the vow I made that night to The One Who controls all things. The wind, the waves, our breaths and numbered earthly days. And I’m thankful I was given these days to share The Good News that we all will be together again, if we graciously trust, He’s in control and it’s all gonna be okay. Jeremiah 10:13 “He causes the clouds to ascend from the end of the Earth; He makes lightning for the rain, and it brings out the wind from His storehouses.” What a beautiful, mighty God He is. Amen.
