Out of the Blue - A Story - Preface, Parts 1-3

Blue Topaz

Preface:

This story was only supposed to be a very short story but somehow or another evolved into something quite the opposite.  There are 27 parts.    Although this is fictional, there is a blending of characters, events and places I've encountered over the years of my life; people can really 'flavor' our lives wondrously.

I dedicate this story to my dear Mother Leah M. Roach who is the biggest fan of my writings.  Mothers are so good and kind, no less, mine.  I love you Mom.

Part 1

Ruth Elizabeth was eager to visit her great-grandmother Mrs. Blue.  She had found a patch of Queen Anne's Lace and had gathered a bouquet of them.  She knew they were her Great-grandmother's favorite.  Ruth Elizabeth loved to be in her Great-Grandmother's company and visited as often as possible.

Of all the great-grandchildren, of which there was rather a large tribe, Ruth E (her nickname), was most like her great -grandmother who everyone, who knew and loved her, called, "Mrs. Blue".

Mrs. Blue was only 'blue' because she had married Mr. Blue at the tender age of 18, never looking back.  Eighty-one years on of being "Blue" had blossomed her into a sparkling, spunky, lady of fortitude and charisma.  She always wondered though why folks never tired with the blue jokes.  Oh, the new people in her life just had to ask her "How do you do, feeling a little blue today"?

But she outwitted them with her grand sense of humor and would retort, 

"Definitely!"

"I'm feeling as blue as the sky on a sweet summer's day and blue as the diamond-studded ocean on the same summer's day."

Then she'd grin mischievously at the stunned enquirer who never repeated that 'blue' question ever again.

Mrs. Blue resided, rather, subtly presided, in a nursing home.  So imagine that a bit.  She needed every ounce of humor and wrote about it.  Here's a poem she came up with:

                              What Grandma thinks About Knitting

When folks around you act like those in the zoo,
A grumbling and grunting and spittin'
The best thing to do is be calm as you can,
And do something useful like knittin'.

When a gossiper comes with a poison-lashed tongue
Right in the room where you're sitting'
And starts to defame some good neighbor's name
Count stitches out loud and keep knittin'.

When there's been a misunderstanding at church
And folks talk loudly of quittin'
Just pretend you don't hear a word they say
But keep right on with your knittin'

And when Satan comes in with his cohorts of sin
Say, "You'll never find me submittin'
You irk me I find, so get thee behind
And please don't disturb me-I'm knittin'!"

So in all of life's problems, the great and the small
The thing that's most proper and fittin'
Is to trust and to pray 'til the Lord show the way'
And keep right along with your knittin'.*1

So fortifying herself with knitting, she lived positive notes.  Just the same, when Ruth Elizabeth, her "Blue" great-granddaughter arrived, often with little nuances of lift-gifts, she was greatly appreciative.

Today of the Queen Anne's Lace visit was no different.  Ruth E had auburn hair where her great-grandmother had abundant white.  She would be equally resplendent as her great-grandmother in time to come.  

Mrs. Blue's blue eyes dazzled beneath coiffed hair which was groomed up into a saintly bun; nothing much diminished in 99 years of life.  She reminded many of Wedgwood China dishes.  Exquisite.

Looks weren't everything though which Mrs. Blue well knew and she'd passed on these thoughts with great love to her children, grand-children and now to her great-grandchildren, encompassing Ruth E. And they all reciprocated her love and accepted her wise tidbits of advice.

You may wonder then, with all that love going round in the Blue tribal clan, just why she was in that nursing home.  True to form, Mrs. Blue insisted!  She was there to be salt and light to those unloved, almost forgotten and lost souls at the last edge of life.  She was not going to forfeit this privilege if she could help it.

By extension, when 'her' tribe came to visit, they helped spread the love around and so many of Mrs. Blue's peerage adopted Mrs. Blue's extended family so much so, some times they all forgot who belonged to whom.  Mrs. Blue, would sit and rock and knit with a satisfied smile lightening up her visage with the perpetual joy of the Lord.

Mrs. Blue's husband had been named Roy L Blue.  His Papa had heard the story from his Papa, and so on, that the original Blue man boasted of blue blood.  That Blue believed himself to be one of a plethora of illegitimate sons of some British monarch from the 15 or 1600's.  He'd boasted so much of his kingly parentage that folks around started calling him "Blue" and the name stuck.  Anyway, Roy L Blue's Papa had an eccentric sense of humor that boiled into his name and ever since, any firstborn son that came along got christened, "Roy L".

Ruth Elizabeth's Dad was Roy L Blue III.  Her eldest brother was Roy L Blue IV and set to have Roy L Blue V whom his indulgent wife had yet to deliver.

So you can see, the Blue family were rather jolly folk.  But Ruth E, despite her own spark of wit, found it increasingly difficult to cope.  She spent extra large quantities of time with her great-grandmother recently partly as healing balm.  They understood each other well and didn't usually say much, just sat and 'were'.

Mrs. Blue sensed that was what Ruth E needed again today.  Quiet (well as much as one could get in a less than private situation).  Mrs. Blue's 'presiding-ness' commanded respect from the other residents of the nursing home  so she could create invisible boundaries at a glance.  That gave Mrs. Blue and her great-granddaughter space.

Ruth E sat and remembered.

Part 2

Ruth E stifled a despondent sigh as her ponderings brought her back to the other day.  She had been in a rush, galloping up the bank steps and barging around the revolving doors, banging smack dab into Shem Hutchinson, of all people, causing his and her documents to scatter helter-skelter about the foyer.

Ruth E gasped upon seeing him "Ah-h.  Oh Shem, so sorry!"  Their eyes had met for the briefest of seconds:  his tender, ringed with friendly compassion; and hers, much to her startled surprise, with daggers of long suppressed hurt and anger.

The anger had sparked years ago.  She'd gone off to the wilds of Borneo, at the tender age of 20, to do God's work.  Shem had promised, "I'll write to you, my sweetheart.  I'll come and visit as soon as I've gotten my degree and worked to earn airfare."

At first the letters had been regular but had tapered off to one a month or less until she'd looked in vain for another.  She'd been so busy with language learning and nursing those to whom she sincerely felt God had sent her, she'd hardly had time to write back.  Yet she had felt she could rely on his promise to visit an/or to wait for her to come back on furlough.

In those first years Shem's heart had wandered elsewhere, she'd learned and he'd married someone he'd met in medical school.  Her name was Josie.  He'd met and married her, her Mom had written, and they'd had two little ones.

A lot can happen in five years Ruth E thought and now Shem was a widower.  Josie had been killed by a drunk driver ramming into her car late one night.  That was tragic indeed.

Ten years and counting, Ruth E's emotions were still a tangle.  She realized seeing Shem had stirred up old feelings she had thought had been cut off yet overriding was the hurt, unforgiveness and anger.  It boiled up in so many places where she had thought dealt with.  Here was a new wave after wave; a veritable tsunami.

She'd read just that morning in 2 Corinthians 2 and especially verses 5-11 that speaks of forgiving especially so Satan would be outwitted.  She thought she had forgiven Shem.  Yet here were more waves of unforgiveness and bitter thoughts overwhelming her.

"Oh, Great-granny Blue,"  Ruth E exclaimed, "how do you rid yourself of bitterness and unforgiveness when you didn't even realize you still harbored them?"

"You want to tell me more about it, Ruth E?  I see you are agitated and troubled." Great-granny asked.

"Well, being in God's work I feel like a hypocrite.  I accidentally and literally bumped into Shem today and all those feelings of hurt, etc I'd thought relinquished, came spewing up into my mind and I'm afraid showed as fiery darts of ugly anger, as I glared at him even for those few short seconds."

"It's been so many years now, Great-granny; what am I to do?"

"For one," Great-granny Blue quietly replied, "being in God's work does not exempt us from negative thoughts and feelings; we are all still very human and can't help ourselves."

"Look always to the hills from whence comes our help" (Psalms 121:1).  "Always put your hope in God" (Hosea 12:6).

"Two, my sweet Ruth E," Great-granny continued, "in my 99 years I've learned to surf those waves; meaning, every time the wave rolls towards me, I take them and confess them  and repent of them as often as it takes.  Recall 1 John 1:9, "If we confess our sins..."  The "if" is dependent on the individual.  We can confess, or not.  However if we do, our hope is in God, "He is faithful and just and will forgive us"  and it does not stop there, oh glory, God is surely an "all the way home Savior", "He will not only forgive, but adds, "and will purify us from all sin'".

"Do you want to be forgiven and purified, my Ruth E?  God is ever gracious and merciful."

"You said you thought you'd dealt with all those hard, hurt feelings encapsulated in bitterness.  This could well be a further chance of purification.  Deeper cleansing.  See this in a positive light.  Our Heavenly Father is working on your behalf in this towards deepening your relationship with your Lord and Master, helping you clear out all that's not good.  Think of it Ruth E.  Isn't God good?!"

"Thank-you Great-granny, that helps tremendously," Ruth E sighed.

Mrs. Blue kept other thoughts to herself about this "chance encounter";  God wasn't finished with this relationship yet either she'd prophesy.  She divined Ruth E still had tender feelings for Shem she'd suppressed.  "Hmm...hmm," mused Mrs. Blue as her knittin' needles clacked away in staccato notes.

Part 3

After the talk with her Great-grandmother, Ruth E meandered into the forest to be alone.  She was somewhat homesick for Borneo even after just two weeks of being back on her own home soil.  Counter-culture shock was setting in thick and on top of that, the Shem business.  She needed to try to steady herself.  Being alone with just her and God would be a great idea about now.

At least she didn't have to worry too much about snakes, wild boar, scorpions or other such wild life critters in her homeland habitat.  She found her old 'magical' rock in a hideaway blind of foliage and sat.  As the tears of past disappointment flowed, Ruth E stumbled out her hurts, once again before God and His throne of grace.

"Oh, Father, God, it hurts so much.  I didn't realize, I still cared so much.  I'm sorry to grieve You but I still feel angry and bitter.  I know it is wrong in Your sight.  I repent but Father God, I need You.  I need You to take it all away, once and for all.  I no longer want the unforgiveness, anger and bitterness to fester within me.  Take it, Father, I plead with You; take it all away.  Purify me as you did for your servant David, ever so long ago.  "Search me, O God, for you know my heart" (Psalm 139:23).  Clean out all that should not be.  I ask in Your Son Jesus' name."

"Thank-You, O Heavenly Father, God, for the forgiveness and the purification.  I submit to You and Your will for my life.  Thank-You so much for the past 10 years of service.  I sense some change coming.  Lord, may I ever follow You and Your will and ways for may life.  Direct my footsteps along Your path.  I'm Your daughter and always desire to please You with my life.  May Your will ever be the way for me and may I be found faithfully running the race you've set out for me (1 Corinthians 9:24), all the way to Your Home-base!  In Jesus Name I ask.

God's peace infused Ruth E's heart and mind and soul and settled as an aura about her.

Which was a good thing.

                                             ~ERC September 2017~

*1.  Knittin' Poem by a real lady named Mrs. Flora Blue, age 95, in Pictou County Home in Stellarton, Nova Scotia, Canada, whom I met at the home when I was a child.  Great-granny Blue's character is loosely based on this lady who has gone to glory so very long ago.  Her memory lingers on here.