Universe

Universe

By John W. Vander Velden

When writing, time force fitted among many demands, torn from spare moments…too few…too short.  Examining the space…the volume I exploit in that pursuit…I wonder.  For somewhere  between patiently listening to an over stressed wife, keeping a watchful eye on a teenage son and dealing with works demands…there lies this writer’s universe.  Evenings…escape to a cluttered space…my desktop in a small room, elevator music through headphones aid in the isolation.  Other times I use other places, finding seclusion in our almost finished basement, especially during warmer seasons.  Another computer waits for me there…a comfortable though older machine…in a place often cold, for choosing this machine requires a coat in winter.  But if the cat leaves me alone the area can be quite effective and at times my first choice.

Then there are all the other places…other times.  Times when room for my laptop, my only need.  When chauffeuring my son I receive odd glances as I work… bowling alley perhaps or other places his activities have taken me.  Times I find myself at a desk in an empty church…where ever…when ever…

It is not the location…or a specific location that seems to matter.  For when I need to write I use tools at hand…note paper and pen…or keyboard….it matters not.  Those times I leave this world, move into another.  A universe gifted to me.  Words on a screen or letters on paper all I see.  My mind races forward…plot… character… scene…but mostly emotion.  It is the story that controls. The story that comes out of the air it seems. The story alive and all around.  I am part of something much larger, and when I truly find myself there…swallowed by the words…my clumsy fingers fly far too slowly. I am unreachable in my universe…and I might seem alone…but am not!

But if you question…if you must know what is the most important “space” this writer employs?  Then I will simply remind that it all hinges upon a relatively inconsequential volume, best described as the part I cover with my stocking hat when the snow flies… ‘nough said!!!

(404 Words)

In the Afternoon's Light

In the Afternoon’s Light

By John W. Vander Velden

Carl stood in the late afternoon light.  His eyes scanned the open land that lay before him.  Not long ago he would feel walled in, surrounded by countless rows of tall corn.  All that remained, crumpled stalks and chaff, the harvest complete.  Shading his eyes he could see his neighbor’s farmstead, certain the friend that lived there felt much the same.  It seemed that at last he could breathe, that a great weight had been lifted from his weary shoulders.  Now Carl considered the year…not the time from January till…but a time from first tillage until this very moment.  Of early mornings risings.  Of work ending beneath stars.  Of unpredictable rains and days beneath sweltering sun.  Of battles with weeds and disease.  Of days lost to broken equipment…time unreplacable.  But that did not matter…not now.  Grain safely in the bin, the harvest completed…another year finished. 

Forty-four years and each different…forty-four plantings…forty-four harvests, how things had changed!  And yet in the afternoon’s light he saw the things that remained constant.  A farmer, the son of a farmer, the grandson of a farmer.  If someone would prick him…examine the blood that flowed…very closely…surely they would find soil.  For after all these years…all these generations there had to be dirt in his blood.  There could be no other reason a man would face all nature would cast his way year after year …to fight day in and day out from dawn to dusk…clawing onward to another harvest.  The completed task proving once again, Carl the victor.  A smile touched his lips.  “This has been a good year,” he said softly, “ ‘Spect next year will be too.” Whistling Carl turned, a grateful, content man in the afternoon’s light

(292 Words) 

Gratitude

Gratitude                

By John W. Vander Velden

Thursday is one of the big holidays, Thanksgiving.  For most it will mean too much food, watching football, and perhaps a day or two off.  There is nothing wrong with time spent with family and friends.  Nothing wrong with having a special meal.  Nothing wrong with watching the game.  And certainly nothing wrong with about having a deserved day off.  But hopefully that is not where the holiday ends. 

Our society seems most focused on all we have not achieved or accumulated.  The ads aim to entice us, to yearn for the brightest, newest.  Certainly the things that fill our lives are insufficient.  It is our nature to desire those things just beyond our reach. In many ways that desire drives us to work harder, and with hard work we may improve ourselves.  But we must take care that we do not become a society of malcontents, never satisfied, certain we have not received our fair share, or dwelling upon the past and what seemed better days.  Look around…take stock…realize all that makes up your life.  Surely we are surrounded by so much for which to be grateful.  Should we not take quiet moments to reflect…to be grateful for all the blessings of our lives, counting our blessings and among them…love and family…things that money can not purchase. 

One day a year is too seldom to consider the good things in our lives, but perhaps Thanksgiving allows a chance to build a grateful heart…and a grateful heart is open to the needs of others.  Too often the suffering masses of our planet find themselves ignored; rarely does their plight penetrate our busy lives.  Surely the homeless and hungry should not be forgotten or ignored.  As we open our hearts to others in their need, our perspective changes.  We come to better appreciate all we have and find a willingness to share with the less fortunate.  Is that not what Thanksgiving really means…to be grateful and to care.

So on that day of food and football, we should take time to quietly reflect...to be grateful… grateful for all the blessing of our lives. And for those of us of faith, let us take time to earnestly thank the Master of the Universe for all good things.

May you have a happy Thanksgiving and a heart filled with gratitude…

(393Words)

                      

 

In the Dark

In the Dark

By John W. Vander Velden

He walks quietly in the dark, moving about his living room during the small hours. He is not alone.  For a small bundle within his arms, a newborn, causes the sleeplessness…the pacing…the rocking…but no regrets.  A price gladly paid.  The hours his shift, as at last his beloved has gone to her rest.  Eyes centered upon the infant, even in the darkened room enough visible to bring a smile.  He understands fatigue a temporary problem, soon, perhaps too soon, these hours only a memory.  With practiced slow sways a child quiet yet not asleep the task not complete…not yet.  He considers the small wonder as he moves among the shadows, how lives forever changed.  New responsibilities…new perspectives…changed dreams…immeasurable joy.  Humming softly as swaying he settles into a chair…soft breathing…tiny heartbeat…fills his attention...at that moment there is nothing more.  What has this bundle done to cause such devotion?  Only a parent understands.  Love a commodity un-purchasable, a binding stronger than steel or blood, for the man in the dark, a cord unbreakable.  Blinking sleepy eyes and a stifled yawn, well rehearsed his actions, as strong arms tenderly hold the child most fragile.  Later, how much he is uncertain, the small one asleep, yet he refuses to surrender.  With foggy mind and content heart he remains…just a little while longer…in the dark.  

(232 Words)   

Lazy Day

Lazy Day               

By John W. Vander Velden

Have you ever woken to the feeling that, though the whole world demands attention, it was a lazy day?  After months of hurrying along, prodded by the things that vitally need immediate attention, that one day, a day to just stop…might be deserved.  More than deserved, perhaps necessary to maintain the sanity required to pick up the load and charge once more.  Is life so much more hectic than or memories of days gone by, or do we make it so?  Surrounded by thousands of bits of technology, time savers we are told; yet that savings account remains overdrawn.  Life tugs continuously.  A cell phones means we are never out of reach.  Text messages find us no matter where we are.  In so many ways our time is demanded, as we hurry along the twisted road of our lives.  We reach day’s end not certain we have gained any ground whatsoever.  Knowing that tomorrow, in the maze once again, we hurry around new obstacles often unseen until we crash headlong in our haste.  It is good to be optimistic, to believe that solutions lie just beyond the next bend.  Hard work necessary, achievements possible.  Certainly others need our time and effort.  We do not deny, and we give our best.  So days rush by January suddenly becomes May and September but a blink behind.  Looking back, if we have the time, certain the year count flawed the number impossible.  Worthy perhaps but no “gold watch” gifted as we continue scurrying onward wondering when task’s demands fulfilled.

Is it wrong, for those of us past life’s mid, that we should find a few minutes or hours to step back and regroup?  Others might call it just being lazy.  But to those that have “paid our dues” and continue, time outside the “cooker”…earned!  Now as we race onward, a gear or two slower than years past, time needed to catch our breath, to clear our heads, and to rest our bones.  Today might seem a lazy day…but in truth it is anything but!

(343 Words)

The Whistler

The Whistler                             5-28-2012

By John W. Vander Velden

Many years ago, in the time before personal music players or even transistor radios, there was a man.   Jacob carried his own music; he was a whistler, and often notes could be heard loud and clear.  Times mending fence or weeding his crops, for the man worked alone, creating music most beautiful.  Seldom did familiar songs, a hymn perhaps, come from those well trained lips for Jacob’s music flowed from some place deep within. Melodies formed at the moment, tunes reflecting the current mood.  Often the notes short, bouncy, lively came to my ears, while other times slow deep tones flowed on the breeze.  In the distance one would know whether Jacob might be happy or sad.  How things have changed!  Does no one yet make music of their own?  Have we become so tied to “canned” tunes we have lost the desire…the need?  Perhaps we doubt our capabilities, concerned our talent so far from perfect it has no value.  I miss the days when Jacob would fetch his cows… I miss the whistler.

(176 Words)

Square Pegs

Square Pegs                            

By John W. Vander Velden

In a world that seems only comfortable with conformity, accepting those fitting familiar   But what of those that “march to the beat of another drum”?  In a world filled with round holes how do “square pegs” fit?  The different…the unique…the odd…what place do they belong?  Often a pointed finger…cruel words identify, dealing pain and criticism, as forward “square pegs” march, accomplishing things others thought impossible.  For most achievements and successes are reached by those with vision beyond present limits, able to see more than just the round holes.   Owed much, yet seldom does gratitude come to those who catch society’s fearful eye.  Is there not room for all?  Are not many of the “square pegs” extraordinary?  For surely standing apart requires great courage…yet allowing fresh perception…not having the numberless…the common…to block their view.  Where do you fit?  For our world is not filled with just “round pegs” or “square pegs”.  No, there are “oval pegs”, “triangular pegs” and all manner of other shapes.  For each person is unique.  Perhaps it is the fear of ridicule that drives so many to just blend in.  To find a safe place, invisible.  They can not be blamed, the pressures great to conform.  Yet if we look honestly at ourselves we would realize there is a bit of “square peg” in each of us…and in truth are better for it.
patterns, those doing familiar things in familiar ways, only those that look like others…talk like others…think like others…seem to fit in.

(259 Words)