• A Sunday Story,  The Pen

    A Sunday Story: The Letter

    February 21, 2010

    This is the last of a series of short stories about a pen. It was an idea conceived by Faye White after making a comment on one of my posts. We have agreed to come up with four stories about a pen and it’s travels. For me, the pen in these four stories has a encounter with someone and it’s task is to empower those who use it to bring their ideas, thoughts, dreams and visions on paper. I intend to post each story on four consecutive Sundays. I also encourage you to visit and enjoy Faye’s story here. Leave us comments to let us know you stopped by, we’d appreciate it.

    Eric’s body moved slowly as he pulled himself out of his comfortable bed. Each morning his body reminded him of the hard work he had put his body through for the past 84 years. He definitely had slowed down but he made sure he did his morning stretching to take care of this body of his, after all it was the only one he had been given. Today he would work in the front yard, trimming the bushes along the sidewalk and cleaning up any trash that may have blown in the yard. The yard had become a haven for him as he would wander in thoughts about Eva. They had enjoyed 62 years together so he had plenty of memories to recall. Some brought smiles, some brought tears and some made him laugh out loud. They both were the tricksters and each had caught the other off guard many of times. They also enjoyed working in this yard together. In fact this garden was inspired from a dream she had one night. It was all she could talk about until they joined in together and created this paradise he now so enjoyed.

    He could feel the sweat beading up on his back as he knelt down along the corner of the yard to pick up some trash. That’s when he noticed something bright and shiny under the potentilla bush. Only after he reached down and picked it up did he recognize it to be a beautiful silver and gold trimmed pen. To him it looked like a very expensive pen, something he could never afford to own. His mind raced with thoughts of who the owner was, what they looked like and where they lived. Could it be a neighbor? Or, was it a stranger walking by who had dropped the pen? How long had it been there? He put it in his pocket and continued on with his task at hand.

    After working in the yard the warm shower felt good. His spirits were high after the hard work and the yard was looking awesome. Even Tom, his neighbor across the street, had come over and commented about how great the yard looked. He started bellowing out an old familiar song in the shower. He smiled as he remembered how Eva would shout at him when he sang that song, pleading for mercy, which in turn prompted him to sing even louder. After his shower she would shake her head and mumbled how they could sure use the money he wasted on those voice lessons. Even though she did not like his singing, or that song, she kept a smile on her face. And that smile was one reason he sang, he wanted to see that smile. It was also a special way they communicated their love for one another. He missed her.

    Later that evening as Eric sat down in his favorite chair he remembered the pen he found earlier in the day. He picked up the pen and held it in his hands, studying it. It was beautiful to him, a piece of art. He opened the drawer to the lamp table next to his chair and pulled out a small tablet and began to write with this fine pen. First he wrote his name. Nice. Then he wrote down Eva’s full name, “Evangeline Marie Sutter.” He found it a pleasure to write with this pen. So what else could he do with this pen besides write down names? He felt this pen would be nice to write letters with but he hadn’t written a letter in years. If he was to write a letter who would he write a letter to?

    Susan? Now there was a name he’d not thought of for a few years. Susan Follett. He remembered the curly red hair, the freckles and those matching cute dimples that helped her smile radiate to the world of her physical and inner beauty. They had attended school together since the third grade and graduated as seniors together. She was the first girl he had been attracted to and the first one he had asked out. He remembered that date when he took her to the county fair. A flood of memories were now flowing through his mind. Holding hands. The first kiss.

    After graduation, World War II would lead them off in different directions. Attempts were made to keep in touch after he enlisted in the Army and went to war but distance and circumstances kept then apart. Through friends he knew she had  married and started a family. He wondered how she was doing and where she was. As he held the pen in his hand, he made the decision to use this nice elegant pen to write her a letter. With the help of his granddaughter they found where she lived. He sat down and wrote “the letter.”

    He wasn’t sure what would he say? Would she write back? It didn’t matter, he was wanting to meet up with this friend from the past, a childhood sweetheart. With pen in hand he shared about his family and his life over the past 60 some years. He let her know Eva had died 14 months earlier. He also told her about finding the pen, how thoughts of her had inspired him to write her. His life was good and he was hoping hers was also.

    That letter started a series of welcomed letters between Eric and Susan and eventually a meeting. Through the letters he found that Susan was living in a small town in North Carolina and had been widowed for about 4 years. She still lived in her own home and had children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren living nearby.

    It was now nine months since Eric wrote that letter. He now stood next to his great grandson, Devin,who he had asked to be his best man. Tears were starting to well up in his eyes as he watched Susan walk up the church isle, holding tightly to her grandson, Daryian. In his eyes she was a beautiful bride. They knew there was no promise of how long they would have together but they were committed to sharing this renewed love for the rest of their lives. Eric was glad he’d found the pen and written “the letter.”

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  • A Sunday Story,  The Pen

    A Sunday Story: The Inventory

    February 14, 2010

    This is the third of a series of short stories about a pen. It was an idea conceived by Faye White after making a comment on one of my posts. We have agreed to come up with four stories about a pen and its travels. For me, the pen in these four stories has an encounter with someone and its task is to empower those who use it to bring their ideas, thoughts, dreams and visions on paper. I intend to post one story on four consecutive Sundays. I encourage you to visit and enjoy Faye’s stories here. Leave us comments to let us know you stopped by, we’d appreciate it.

    Ronnie found the pen just as he approached the side door leading to the church basement. It was an eye-catching pen and looked expensive. He was running late so he placed it in his shirt pocket and headed inside where he met up with everyone.

    He’d been coming to these meetings now for the past seven months. He was uncertain why he kept coming as there were some really off-the-wall types inside these meeting rooms, people he would not normally associate with. However, he knew he kept coming back because of the relationship he had developed with Bill. They were not the best of friends and didn’t have all that much in common as Bill was older, widowed and very outgoing while Ronnie was on the quiet side and more introverted. But, Bill had sobriety, 18 years to be exact, and there was something about him that Ronnie wanted and needed.

    Even though it had only been a few months, Ronnie could remember those morning hangovers. Waking up with a dry mouth, trying to remember the events of the night before. There was an almost overwhelming fear when he couldn’t remember driving home. He had grown to accept these mornings as his normal way of life. Some mornings it was tough just sitting up in bed, trying to focus bloodshot eyes but thankful he was in his own bed. And, every so often waking up on the bathroom floor.

    The topic at tonight’s meeting was on the Fourth Step of the 12 Step program. Ronnie listened intently as a couple of old-timers, both with long term  sobriety, shared how the fourth step had been a major step forward in their recovery. Ronnie had not yet worked all of the steps with his sponsor. Step four seemed to be a holding place for him. His sponsor, Bill, had not pushed him, feeling he would work the steps in due time. Bill felt Ronnie had to want to work the steps when he was ready. They had been reading the Big Book together and had read through Chapter 5 on How It Works, where it outlines all the Steps. Ronnie had worked up to the third step and said the third step prayer with Bill but balked at step four. Taking an inventory, to clean house by looking at his faults, was not something he felt he needed. There were too many people who were the ones at fault and had caused him much pain.

    After the meeting he gathered around to share in the fellowship the program offered. Bill walked up and gave him a big hug, a much welcomed hug. As they separated their embrace Ronnie wondered again why Bill’s presence was so calming.

    “Glad you made it, my friend. How’s your day?”, Bill asked.

    With a smile Ronnie responded, “It’s been good. I’m still employed and the repairs on my car didn’t damage my pocket book as I expected.” They both laughed. Ronnie pulled the pen out of his pocket and said, “Look what I found outside the church as I came to the meeting tonight.”

    Bill lowered his head and peered over the top of his glasses so he took a good look at the elegant silver and gold pen in Ronnie’s hand. With his calming voice he told Ronnie, ”Man, that’s an expensive looking pen. But you know I bet it would be a great pen to write a Fourth step inventory.” Yes, Ronnie knew it was a gentle nudge to move forward in his steps and begin that fourth step inventory.

    Ronnie quietly responded, “Yea, I suppose so.” Ronnie placed the pen back in his pocket hoping they could move on to something else. They both knew Bill had done what was required, so nothing else needed to be said.

    Later that evening Ronnie remembered the pen and decided to look at it before going to bed. He picked up the envelope containing his electric bill, pulled off the cap on the pen and wrote down his name. The pen did have a good feel to it. Without much thought, he took out a spiral ringed notebook and walked over to his desk. It was almost 10:00 PM. He should be going to bed but somewhere within him he knew the time had arrived. At the top of the blank page he wrote, “Inventory.” At that moment there was no thought about how long this might take. His task was only to begin and finish.

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  • A Sunday Story,  The Pen

    A Sunday Story: Chocolate Cake

    February 7, 2010

    This is the second of a series of short stories about a pen. It is an idea conceived by Faye White after making a comment on one of my posts. We agreed to come up with four stories about a pen and its travels. For me, the pen in these short stories has an encounter with someone and empowers them to bring their ideas, thoughts, dreams and visions on paper. I intend to post one story on four consecutive Sundays. I encourage you to visit and enjoy Faye’s stories here. Leave us comments to let us know you stopped by, we’d appreciate it.

    Father Bert noticed the pen lying on one of the kneelers in the prayer chapel where patrons would light votive candles and spend time in prayer. He picked up the pen and examined it. Pretty nice pen and expensive looking. He’d been in the church for the past hour and hadn’t noticed anyone coming in or out, so he put it in his pocket and walked over to the church office. He would give it to the church secretary, Kathy, and see if anyone claimed it.

    A week later on Friday morning as Father Bert entered the church office, Kathy told him good morning and offered her lovely smile. She sure was a joy to have around, always smiling. He walked over the coffee pot and filled his cup half way. He’d been cutting back on the caffeine and he knew Kathy would be watching him. Which she was. They quickly went through the day’s schedule. She then let him know no one had claimed that pen he had dropped off last week and wanted to know if he wanted to have it. She thought he might enjoy using it. He’d learned to follow many of her suggestions. He picked it up, flipped it around a couple of times, then put it in his pocket. “Why not, we’ll see what we can do with it today.”, he said.

    He had a busy day ahead of him, as most Fridays in June are. He had two meetings at the church office, then off to the nursing home for noon mass with the residents. Later on after lunch he and Deacon Dan met with the Carson family to make arrangements for their grandfather’s funeral. He used the pen to write a few notes about the life of Paul Carson taken from the family’s perspective. Deacon Dan had let Father Bert know Mr Carson had been a good role model to his immediate family and his church family for many years. The meeting went well and Father Bert felt he had some good information to share with the congregation during the memorial service. Next on his schedule was a late afternoon wedding, one in which he wanted to prepare for by finding a place of quiet.

    This was going to be a special wedding because he had watched the love between Jonathan and Kirstin grow over the past 2 years. The marriage preparation meetings with them over the last few weeks had been so refreshing to him. He was personally excited to celebrate their sacrament of marriage with them. He knows the weddings are very special moments for the couple and their families but he also knows weddings are a small piece of time compared to the years of married life they have before them. He chose the Guadalupe Prayer Room for his place of quiet. Once he had settled in he pulled out the elegant pen and began to list a few things he wanted to share about the bride and groom. His list included: commitment, communication, individual relationship with God, their family support and their desire to share in raising a family.

    The wedding went as planned, except when Jonathan went into a panic mode, a blank stare on his face. Father Bert just smiled and helped him along, all of which caused Kirstin to giggle uncontrollably. Father Bert loved it, knowing it would be something the two of them would always be able to laugh about! When it came time for the signing of the marriage certificate he pulled out the beautiful silver and gold pen he had carried throughout the day. He handed the pen to them and asked the couple to sign their marriage certificate. Once it was signed he told them to keep the pen as a small gift from him and God. Another smile came across his face when he thought maybe that’s why he had found the pen.

    Yes, it had been a good day, busy, but good. He gave Jonathan and Kirsten each a hug then walked with them downstairs to the reception where family and friends waited. He jokingly said it was now time for some wedding cake and patted his round tummy. He was hoping it would be his favorite: chocolate cake.

    PS: Thank you Jacie for letting me use your rings for the image.

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  • A Sunday Story,  The Pen

    A Sunday Story: The Purchase

    January 31, 2010

    This is the first of a series of short stories about a pen. It is an idea conceived by Faye White when she made a comment on one of my posts. We have agreed to come up with four stories about a pen and its travels. You may say it’s a strange idea or concept, but hopefully entertaining. For me, the pen in these four stories has an encounter with someone. Its task is to empower those who use it to bring their ideas, thoughts, dreams and visions on paper. I intend to post each story on four consecutive Sundays. I also encourage you to visit and enjoy Faye’s story here. Leave us comments to let us know you stopped by, we’d appreciate it.

    This story begins when a young man fresh from college walks into a small gift shop called the Pen and Prose located in Reagan National Airport. Just inside the entrance to the small shop was a tall glass display case filled with pens and mechanical pencils. The lighting and presentation of the display drew the attention of the casual traveler to the wide assortment of writing instruments. However, the beauty and elegance of one of the pens caught the young man’s attention. It was so elegant, something he had never thought of owning. He wandered around the store for a while, not really looking to buy anything, but lingering near the pen. He stopped to look once more before leaving the store then asked to see the pen. Yes, it felt good in his hands. The weight of the pen allowed the roller tip to easily move across the paper and that dark black ink popped on the page. Now that it was in his hand he knew he would have a difficult time putting it down. Even though the price was more than he wanted to spend, the pen had found its first owner.

    He used it at today’s meeting, jotting down notes, listing ideas and helping the customer set their goals and to be successful. The pens’ large silver body and gold trim gave it a look of importance and also caught the eye of his client. When his client asked about the pen it allowed any walls of apprehension or nervousness to come down and opened up the way for a successful meeting for everyone.

    Later that evening back at the hotel, he would use the pen to journal about the day. It felt good to write with this pen and he was thankful he’d purchased it. It had been a good day!

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