Together

Together

7-1-2013

 

by John W. Vander Velden

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Together facing new hope,

Behind only devastation and vague promises, unacceptable!

Youth’s optimism…pent up desires…fuel.

 

Yet leaving everything…friends…country…family…home,

A decision not easily taken.

 

They came lightly…

For little possessed…and less allowed.

To a place distant…foreign…unseen…

With no guarantees…only possibilities.

 

Surely they faced difficulties.

Surely dealt great setbacks,

Surely feared defeat.

Yet courageously facing future’s unknown.

 

Over the years, their own family formed…

New country honored…

New friends loved…

Weaving a new tapestry out of past’s cord,

S t r e t c h e d    b u t    n o t    b r o k e n.

 

All the challenges…

All the disappointments…

All the victories…

Hope never lost.

Dreams long awaited…nurtured…arriving at last.

A new world built, upon toil and sweat…

 

Where had the years flown…?

Many moves…

Successes and failings…

Sunshine and illness…

 

When age’s darkest clouds filled the horizon,

When mortality’s due evident,

When muscles failed and joints screamed,

Even those days unable to overcome…

For they had faced it all…together!

 

(159 Word)

Mile Markers

Mile Markers

By John W. Vander Velden 

 

On occasion, we go on road trips.  No matter what our destination, there are mile markers along the way, with purpose straightforward, to aid in assessing a traveler’s progress.  But the pavement is not the only route traveled and road trips not our only journey.  For each person moves on a trek their whole life long, traveling upon an unmapped route with many twists, turns, unexpected bumps and perhaps a few breakdowns along the way.  Yet there are mile markers as we go, some quite obvious…like graduation…others more subtle…each important.  The young pay little heed as these sign boards whiz past.  Those who face certain mile markers, the effect quite different.  As the year count grows…while life’s pace continues to accelerate…not all approaching mile markers welcome…yet the journey continues.  Perhaps a moment found to glace back…to remember the markers in our wake.  Hopefully an understanding comes while we assess the place we find ourselves…an acceptance of who we have become…a recognition of accomplishments…a forgiveness of failures…as we look forward with courage knowing our life much more than mile markers.

 

(190 Words)

He Wanted to be Like His Father...

 

He Wanted to be Like His Father…                      November 14, 2010    

By John W. Vander Velden

 

He wanted to be like his father…he was ten…was that so unusual.  His father was the strongest man he knew.  He had seen the man throw bales high above his head on a moving wagon.  He had seen him move rocks…no…boulders that dared to interfere with the tilling of the soil.  His father was tall…taller than most other men…he hoped he too would be tall…be strong…be brave.  How brave his father was…certainly there was nothing that man feared.  When the nights were especially dark…when the wind howled…when noises…creepy…fearful noises came out of the night.  His father strode out to meet whatever lurked in the darkness, often without even the smallest of light in hand.  He climbed ladders up the side of silos.  He had seen him…with his own eyes he had seen him…climb up a silo…then without any thought throw his leg over the very staves and scoot himself along the edge around the tippy-top…a rope in one hand and a pulley in the other.  He had seen it…that and a thousand other things his father had done without fear.  His father was respected…whether it was at church or the elevator…whether it was at the hardware or an auction…other men greeted him with awe and showed him honor…they called him Mr.. His father was kind…he was gentle.  His voice could be soft…warm.  He had seen the man hold his baby sister…he had seen the eyes so…so soft.  He had seen it most often in the way the great man…the big man…treated his mother…how he listened…how he looked…how he cared. 

Yes, he wanted to be like his father.  Not that the man was perfect…he knew better.  He had seen the man lose his temper…how dark and terrible those moments had been…but even then the man never struck anyone…never!  He knew there were times his father forgot…or said he had forgotten…and how others felt the pain of being forgotten…even if it were but for an instant… No, the man was not perfect…the big tall broad man…the strong man…the honest respected man…the brave courageous man…was not a perfect man…but the boy wanted to be like his father. 

He loved his mother…It was she that had bathed him when he was too young to do so…she dressed him when buttons refused to slide through those difficult slits on the front of his shirt…surely there was time…a time before he could remember…when she even fed him…just as she now fed his younger brother.  He remembered when he was ill…those nights when the pain would not let him sleep…she was there…always there.  When he was afraid…it was to her arms her ran…she held him…kept him safe.  Her arms were warm…stronger than others might know…yes, she kept him safe.  She was beautiful…no one could convince him otherwise…he knew the truth.  How hard she labored…how tireless she was.  When he needed someone to listen…her ears were always near.  When he fell…she lifted him to his feet…kissed the wound and sent him on his way.  When he received any award…he knew it was her heart he melted.

 

Yes, he loved his mother…but he knew she was not perfect.  There were times…not often but times…when she had ignored him…others were more important…or so it seemed…and he was left out.  There were times she was hard…when nothing he could do would please…when nothing he could say would satisfy.  There were times when she seemed cold…times though rare when the room itself seemed to cool in her presence.  No, the woman was not perfect…tender and kind woman…the smiling…the gentle…the strong woman was not perfect…but the boy so loved his mother. 

Is it wrong…is it wrong that a ten year old boy would feel so.  I say no!  I say absolutely no!!!  It is very right for a child…for any child to admire his father and love his mother!!!  God help parents unworthy…for all tomorrows stand on the foundations of today…and each child will one day…one day much sooner than we might expect…grow up…and as they mature…they will have been shaped...shaped most by those closest…their mother…their father. 

He wanted to be like his father… He loved his mother…  He was indeed blessed!!!   

(704 Words)

  

What Became of the Child?

What Became of the Child?               May 31, 2013

By John W. Vander Velden

What became of the child I knew?  Surely time’s passing insufficient…could it be I have missed the years?  For a disconnect exists between my eyes and heart…what I see and what I feel.  I am unable to fully accept the truth known, wishing to hold the small hand once more.  Where are the tiny fingers that assembled blocks into new creations…that pushed trucks and trains across the floor?

What became of the child that stared with awe, at the star filled sky…that held my hand tightly as we faced the ocean’s waves?  What has become of the one I gently tucked in not so long ago?  Where have I been…how did I miss it all?  For he is no more.  Replaced by one so straight and tall…one that come and goes…slipping in and out of my life…but never from my heart.

What became of the child that walked on unsteady legs…grinning at the achievement…the one with fearful hands gripping the handlebars, while I ran alongside?  Now with keys in his hand, he moves about far and wide.  I wish him safety as he ventures out, knowing the dangers all around, and say a prayer for his protection.  With eyes on the clock, my ears listening for the first sounds that ease my heart at last.

What became of the child that I drove to school…to classes and extracurricular requirements?  The waist high boy standing among others, waiting impatiently for each day to end.  When did he merit the gown and mortarboard?  Standing among his peers, yet apart, for I see no others.  Surely my heart swells with pride as I see this young man…all his accomplishments…his awards…the world that lays before him, awaiting his conquest…yet part of me wonders.  What became of the child?

(308 Words)

 

Doors

Doors                                          3-15-2013

By John W. Vander Velden

Throughout our lives we pass through doors.  In our youth we approach each with anticipation, at times so focused on the door ahead we fail to savor the place we find ourselves.  Not seeing the grand vistas of our present experiences in our rush toward future’s possibilities.  Then we press to the portal to new things, unknowing that once we slam that door behind, there can be no return.  And so life’s way takes us all, through doors.  Doors we open with great hopes…doors we approach with depredation.   Yet we open doors…with vigor…or with care, but with each we are changed…changed in ways unexpected.  Our growth requires we pass through many doors and each gives lessons that can be learned by no other means.  There are the doors that lead to new and wonderful times…new relationships…new honors…yet as we pass something remains behind.  Something sealed from us by the doors we have closed.  There are doors that we face…doors we wish to avoid…but cannot.  Times when that knob placed in our hands is difficult to turn.  Doors so heavy that they require all our strength.  Passing through that opening, wounds us deeply, and we question our survival.  Then all the naivety of youth is lost, and we understand that those left behind doors… are locked into our past and exist only in our memory.  Each and every door we have passed…those doors we gleefully race toward…those doors we approach with fear…those doors of joy…those doors of pain…are experiences and friends added which replace others locked behind. Yet each day we march forward to face new doors…new hopes…new adventures…we become greater by each door we open.  Friends, step boldly for your grandness is just beyond the door.

(296 Words)

Lavender

Lavender                         4-30-2013

By John W. Vander Velden

Mom loved her cactus.  One of the few things she brought with her to this country, as a bride, was a cutting of her mother’s cactus.  Carefully she nurtured it for more than ten years before it bloomed.  For fifty years she added others to her collection…You see mom loved cactus.

Life’s demands, years of hard work, decades of just doing without, had left their mark.  From those closest, she hid her frailty.  We saw only her strength.  But deep within, beneath her protective shell, remained a soft heart.  Perhaps that is way mom loved cactus…with their quills.  For she knew when at last they would bud, the blossoms would be breathtaking.  Cactus are more than they appear.

Among the latest addition to her cacti collection, a grand spiny succulent, which would at times show several large spectacular flowers, stood in the front window.  Unwilling to move the plant, she would admire the magnificence from the yard.  Times as many as six blossoms, each nearly as large as her hand faced the sun.  She took particular pride in that plant.  You see mom loved cactus.

During the terrible months of mom’s illness, that plant did not bloom.  However, on the day following her departure from that prison her body had become, when I alone walked the floors of what had been her home.  I saw the single grand flower…delicate…lavender.  Mom loved cactus…and it seemed the cactus loved her…

(242Words)    

She Came Smiling

She Came Smiling

by John W. Vander Velden

 

She came smiling,

From far away.

 

Separated by need…

Certainly not her choice.

 

Obligations required…time demanded.

The shearing of hearts bound.

 

Long the days parted seemed.

 

Empty the nights alone.

 

Even his voice…each day heard

Insufficient to fill her heart.

 

Yet a reminder that he too longed

For the parting’s end.

 

Longed the touch of hand…and heart.

That distance vanish.

 

Yet for a time an ocean between.

An expanse un-crossable.

 

So left behind he waited.

While duties separated.

 

Returning…

She came smiling.

 

(85 Words)