Heart of Stone

Editorial note. I am not sure when I wrote this, but I am thinking it dates back to around 1990 or so. I rather think this was around 1991 or 1992 after I'd been in the Air Force awhile and was getting homesick. It was a single sit-down writing exercise, with no point to it to start with, and as such, is not very fluid, or flowing... And if I were writing it today, I'd change wording here and there, fix grammer, make it better... but in the end, the conclusions I came to in my expression still hold true. I'll leave it exactly as I wrote it, except to allow Word's spell corrector to fix a few mistyped words here and there.

Take it for what it's worth... Ponder it. See how much stone YOU have left in your heart, in your life.

For crying out loud. This has been the fourth time this week that a cop has pulled me over. The first time was for a broken tail light. Then came two speeding tickets. What this time?

Well, here comes the cop. This doesn’t look good. With a name like Butkowski, and the size and demeanor of Rambo, it looks like I’m in trouble.

He says I ran a stop sign. He didn’t think it was too funny when I assured him that I would stop twice next time. So far this week’s tickets have totaled about four hundred dollars.

Well, like the guy on the radio is singing, I’m in between a rock and a heartache. If I don’t pay the tickets, then I’ll be stuck in jail. And I definitely don’t have the money. Not that much, anyway.

I guess it has been fun around here, but it is time to move on. I believe I’ll leave tomorrow and head for home. It has been about seven years since I’ve been back.

Pamela won’t understand why I must go. She’ll insist on paying for the tickets, but what she doesn’t realize is that that will cure the symptoms, not the disease. I’m homesick, and I’ve been awfully restless for a long time.

I wonder what Mom is doing today? I’ll have to call her and find out when I get home.

Pam is putting out her laundry. I might as well tell her now that I have decided to move on.

I knew that she would be upset, but I didn’t expect her to start crying. It might be a cruel attitude to have, but I guess life is full of heartache so you might as well give some as well as receive.


Well, I’m all packed up and ready to hit the road. Pam waves goodbye as I pull out. I begin to have second thoughts, but there’s no turning back.

I have now been driving for ten straight hours. I guess it’ll take about three more to get home. All of a sudden, this big tanker truck pulls into my lane, forcing my pickup into the guardrail. It was horrible, like a meat grinder. Needless to say, there’s not much left of me. I am dead, but as I now realize, that is only a technicality, as I can do more now than ever before.

I saw Mom today for the first time. What I mean is, on this side of life you see people as they really are, not as they appear. I never knew Mom was so beautiful. And some of the people I always really looked up to are no better than the ones who I always knew were bad characters. In fact, they are lower than low, because they have fooled so many people while the average bad person is at least honest about it.

I have also learned a lot about myself. I am not an entirely clean person myself. I have experienced degrading thoughts at times, but now I know that that is only normal. Very few people are perfect in every way, and those few people are very special.

I am a long way from that point, but I hope that people like me for being me, not for my money or possessions, of which I have very few.

Louis L’amour, one of my life-long heroes, I have met up here, and yes, he is still writing books!

The Earth is a lot different from what any mortal man could ever imagine. All of these religions and even the new age movements, are spreading a certain amount of good throughout the Earth, but there is not one true religion. All I can say is, live your life by letting your conscience be your guide. If you do not follow your conscience, then you are nothing. Literally.

Every lie you tell, at least when it goes against the grain, or every other act which you know is wrong, but do anyway, each thing chips away at your soul.

To best describe it, imagine a block of stone, one foot square. Every person is born with this object in their heart. Some people, at an early age, have other folks chipping pieces of stone off the block. This is parents who demoralize and abuse their children. Many of these children do not have a chance, for by the time they are adults the block is only about one inch square.

On the other hand, the block can grow. If someone who has a battered and beaten block of stone finds someone who accepts them and loves them, then sometimes the outside love adds mortar to the block, often making it better than it ever was before.

When you hear the term “Heart of Gold” applied to a person, then that person usually has a figurative block that is at least 10 inches square. Although everyone starts out with an even foot square, as the newborn innocence wears off, some of the stone rubs off. It is normal.

Some people, very few people, have absolutely no stone left in their hearts at the deathbed. These people are lost, as only good passes beyond the grave.

A vast majority of others, myself included, reach this place with at least a small part of their identity washed away. Only the good that was in them remains.

One year ago, today...

A year ago today, my Mom went to heaven, or where ever it is that good souls go.

She was human, but she had made peace with herself, and with her Creator.  Ten years before, she had written a letter to her children - just in case this day should come.  At her service my brother Ron and I each spoke, and then her letter was read. 

Our comments, followed by hers, is shared here.  Her part was modified slightly - things HAD changed in 10 years, but the family details aren't important - the message is.   Remember that when we are down and hurt and lonely, feeling forgotten, or just plain tired, there is a light out there, a hope, a better place, a better day.  All is not lost.  We have family, and sometimes they are our friends as much as our blood.


James:

I was fourteen and Ted had just turned sixteen a few days before our Dad died. Times were tough for awhile. I can remember not being able to stand sitting at home, and hearing all the talk, so I got up and went back to school.

The first day back, there must have been five hundred “I am so sorry”’s thrown my way. By the end of the day, I wanted to shout at them “Shut Up!”, but I just nodded my head and mumbled thanks, and went on.

And over the years, I have had a hard time dealing with death, whether that of a random stranger or that of someone close, it didn’t matter. I’ve lost a number of good friends, my grandpa, my baby.

And each time, I staggered with the weight.

Three or four years ago, I was friends with a black man at work, Al. Al was a father and a grandfather, always active in the community, in sports, loved by everyone around him. One day he had a heart attack, and was gone. I attended his service, and it was the first (and only) time I was at a service like that. There, they did mourn the loss of him for their sake, but I’d describe the whole affair as a celebration - a celebration of the life and the legacy that Al had lived and left behind. A celebration because they knew without a doubt that he was finally with his Creator, and happy, and free from the chains of this world. There was singing, much of it joyful and loud.

In a way, I think this, for me, was a life changing experience. It was the first time I had dealt or saw people deal with Death on friendly terms. It was just one step on my journey to understanding and becoming at peace with Death. I still don’t like it but that’s mostly a selfish reaction. Because I know my Dad, my grandpa, Al, and my Mom, and my nephews Carliss and Johnny, are in a place where there is no pain, no suffering, no sneezes or coughs, and no hatred.

Then there is this world left behind. How do we deal with this change?

I recently read a description of Celtic tradition that puts a few things into perspective for me. These words were written by an Irish Priest named John O’Donohue:

Ireland is a land of many ruins. Ruins are not empty. They are sacred places full of presence. A friend of mine, a priest, was going to build a parking lot outside his church. There was a ruin nearby that had been vacated for fifty or sixty years. He went to the man whose family had lived there long ago and asked the man to give him the stones for the foundation. The man refused. The priest asked why, and the man said, “What would the souls of my ancestors do then?” The implication was that even in this ruin long since vacated, the souls of those who had once lived there still had a particular affinity and attachment to this place. The life and passion of a person leave an imprint on the ether of a place. Love does not remain within the heart, it flows out to build secret tabernacles in a landscape.

Friday, when I got back home, I walked over to Mom’s, and there was the family, gathered around. Looking through books, talking, just being. I looked around for Mom and saw her everywhere. The life and passion of a person leave an imprint on the ether of a place. Love does not remain within the heart, it flows out to build secret tabernacles in a landscape. She was still there, within her house, but more importantly, within every one of us who remained behind.

It has taken many, many years to understand this. And even now, it’s a learning process. It’s easier to grasp with the mind than it is in the heart. But I do know that she is still here with us, and although today we may bury her physical remains in this sacred ritual, her soul and spirit is still alive and we will all carry on her legacy. She gave birth to six children, but was mother to many more. She will live far beyond our lifetimes, in the actions of our children and children’s children.

Ron:

When I was little, when all of us were little, Mom used to read to us. Sometimes she’d read with voices, making the words, the characters, real. Often she’d read of far away places, far away times, different worlds, either in the past or the future. She’d transport us to some new place, showing us the wide world long before we’d ever go out and explore it with our own eyes.

Her younger brother Ralph told us about when he was struggling in school, trying to learn to read. Mom went out and bought a set of books, and brought them home, and made him read to her every day. She’d stop him after every paragraph and make him explain to her what he’d just read. Eventually he, too, learned to love words and books.

Through her love for us, and her love for reading, she helped us become ready to face the big wide world. She also inspired us to be readers like her. She has indeed left a legacy for her children and her children’s children that will endure forever, in those left behind. All her kids have benefited from this legacy that she has started.

The new generation, our kids like Amber and Jacob, who love reading her books, and finding new books of their own, have been inspired by her passion for reading. The legacy will live on as long as we continue to be inspired by the things she has shown us. She taught us to love to read, but more importantly, she taught us to love.

Awhile back, she wrote a letter to us, and it started out like this, “Don’t grieve for me.” She realized that her time on earth is limited, and took the time to worry about those of us left behind. In the time since writing her letter, she stayed with us for awhile longer, but she was at peace with leaving.

Here is her letter…

MESSAGE TO MY FAMILY

Don't grieve for me when I've gone. I've lived a full life with all its ups and downs. Downs seem to last forever. But the up swings do wipe them out.

When one door shuts, others open which can lead to even better things than you think you want.

I count myself to have been greatly blessed in my children; all are people that I'd be honored to call my friends, even if we had no other bonds. In order of Birth:

The oldest one is only mine by courtesy. He was born to my late husband and his first wife. But I'm proud to call Larry Gene Wheeler “my son.” Larry is married to Pam and has no children.

The next three are my children by my former husband:

Barry Kent Craw is my first born. He is unmarried.

Ronnie Burns Craw is married to Tisha. He has three children by a former marriage Rhonda, Tiffany, and Stephen. Tisha has one child Nicholas.

Beth Ann Craw is married to Dennis and had one step-son Johnny. She has two daughters and a son: Amanda is married to Micah and has two daughters Ashley and Gracie. Amber is married to Tim, no children. Geoffrey is not married.

Next is Larry's sister, my step-daughter Diann (Wheeler) Godwin is married to Russ and has one son by a former marriage. I have been proud to have had her as my second daughter.

Next come my sons by my late husband Eugene Wheeler:

Teddy Eugene Wheeler is married to Geneva. He has three children by a former marriage Jacob, Johnny, Jacklynn. Geneva has two children Michael and Trevor.

James Arthur Wheeler is married to Vikki and has two children: Jeremy and Katherine (Kate).

All are good, decent, reliable people and are a joy to their mother’s heart. They are responsible hard working folks. Like everyone else I've traveled life's road. But my real blessing has always been my family. That has made it all worthwhile.

Do not grieve for me when I'm gone. Just go on raising good, decent children. Do so and all their lives they will be a blessing to all who know them.

And know that LOVE allows for all our quirks and honors us for them, and is made stronger by them. That is the very best way to honor my memory-not grief!

Just go on doing what you all do best: Be good decent human beings, who help to guide the next generation along those same lines.

And keep my love for you ever in your hearts.

MOM