Late Night Visitor – Interference
My family moved into the home where I was raised three months before I was born. Fifty-two years later, my siblings and I are exhuming old memories with many of the items we touch, clean out, clean up, and fix before the house goes on the market.
Standing in the back yard, I recall the peach tree near the fence. My memory of it is short-lived, but I do remember trying to climb the tree and hanging by my arms and swinging on the lowest branch. Before my dad had a carport added next to the double-stall garage, the back yard had more grassy space to play.
With five kids in the family, it was hard to divide evenly into teams, especially for kickball. My siblings made up bases for home plate, first base, second base, and may have used the peach tree as third base. Imaginary sidelines were drawn and since I was about four-years old, I was told to stay at the sideline and watch. As the pitcher rolled the ball to the kicker, that, to me, was my queue to run out onto the playing field. They all saw me run out there, but the pitcher seemed to be the one who halted play by yelling out, “Interference!” I was picked up and placed back on the sideline with sibling orders to stay put. I did this enough times to earn the nick-name, Interference.
This is a funny family story, but I liken this to grief. We go about our day, expecting to sit at our desk and do our jobs, but then a whoosh of grief hits us because of a trigger word, scent in the air, or memory that reminds us of a loved one who is gone. We set up rules and sidelines telling grief to stay put, but it has a mind of its own and makes its presence known. It does it enough times to earn the nick-name, Interference.
Psalm 88:9 (NIV)
my eyes are dim with grief.
I call to you, Lord, every day;
I spread out my hands to you.