OUR OWN ORDINARY BOWL
As our two year wedding anniversary is approaching quickly [and they said it wouldn't last] I thought it would be appropriate to repost this column written days before the wedding. It still fits today. Thanks, T.
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The internet is a fascinating tool that can be used for as many and diverse purposes as there are search engines. One can locate any available service at their fingertips, order merchandise in an instant. It is a never ending fountain of information of any conceivable topic, and can connect people by virtue of learning about them without ever seeing their face; people who will become more than just modern day pen pals.
But it is in areas of the heart where it can be the most surprising.
Having joined a website for aspiring writers, I was particularly struck by the writing of another. She was a mother with a large brood of kids, just like me. Her prose on understanding how an object ordinary could be so extraordinary was not lost on me. In fact, it was a godsend.
In the day to day bustle of life, raising a family and having a job to go to every morning, the obvious simpleness of the routine and mundane can be a welcome reminder, a contant source of constancy and reassurance.
She wrote about an ordinary bowl, how it is constantly moved from table to counter and back again. It was and continues to be an extraordinary piece. I printed it out and it hangs near my desk, the edges of the paper now beginning to show its age and curling up ever so slightly.
I read it whenever I am feeling overwhelmed with the worldly committments I have made and the need for release is calling hard. It is the only thing that can restore me, somedays.
What shall I send you? she wrote me one afternoon, after receiving the news that I was to be remarried.
You don't have to send me anything, I wrote back, my heart beating with sincerity.
We'll see about that! she replied and I could picture the wink in the eye, the crinkles around them framing her face.
She had sent a picture of herself and her family many months before; it was nice to put a face with a name. She lived too far away to be able to come for a visit.
Physicial challenges were also laid upon her in later years, but she was never one to run from adversity, of any sort. This woman was a fighter who always came out on top.
I've got it! she wrote one day last week, after seeing the pictures of the wedding which I had posted on the website. Watch for the mail.
My beloved walked into the house after a day of fire training school, a yearly class for firefighters. Down on their hands and knees, they crawl around for hours through man made situations to fight the hot beast that will take a life without batting an eyelash. He is dirty and tired, but glad to be home.
He spied the gift on our kitchen table, surrounded by the wrapping paper and wedding card wishing us well.
What is that? he said as he sat down. He bent over to untie the laces of his soot encased boot. The whites of his eyes were whiter than I had seen in recent months, as his face was also covered in black dust, his short cropped hair darker than the light brown he was born with.
A wedding present! I said and I kissed his cheek as he lifted his head up to look at it closer.
A bowl? he asked, curious as to who would send such a unique gift, as most of the thank you cards had already been mailed and received by the giftgivers.
Ah, yes......, I said, picking it up and holding it to my heart.
But it's not just a bowl..... I whispered, saying a silent prayer to my friend, Teresa.
It's an Ordinary Bowl.
He looked at it once again, before engulfing me completely.
Extraordinary! he murmured softly, kissing the top of my head, rubbing my back with one hand and holding the bowl in another.
Exactly. Our very own Ordinary Bowl, to fill up with different pieces of our lives together, as well as fruit or papers or to just leave empty.
But whether full or barren, it stands as a reminder of the goodness of people and the desire to do nice things, simply out of the goodness of their heart.
A thoughtful gift from a very thoughtful friend. Our own Ordinary Bowl.
Thank you, Teresea. I will try very hard to fill it only with good things.
