Once upon a minute..........
The casket was open as the mourners filed by. A few folks would
pause and kneel as they murmured a prayer. Mostly the people kept moving,
drifting by the dead body like a slowly meandering creek. Some folks cried
while clutching their hankies and blowing their noses. The old woman in the
casket was wrapped from head to toe in multicolored strips of cloth. She looked
almost like a stained glass mummy or a mosaic mummy.
On the day of her funeral, the undertakers sealed her coffin.
They felt nothing for this woman, she was just another body in their business.
Smoking a cigarette, the hearse driver waited for the coffin to be loaded for
the short ride to the church. He had seen the lady who looked like a mummy but
didn't think much about her. He had enough to think about with problems in his
own life. This lady was just another eccentric who chose to live her life
wrapped in her wounds. Once the coffin was locked into place in the back of the
hearse, he drove to the Temporal
Temple.
The church building was crowded. It wasn't
because the old woman had a lot of friends, she didn't, people came to hear the
preacher dude. He was a great speaker who always gave them something to think
about. Listening to him was a form of entertainment. He would wax eloquently
from the pulpit and make his listeners feel good. The people came because they
wanted to feel good. The old woman wrapped in multicolored cloths was just a
sideshow. The Temporal
Temple had a large
congregation drawn mostly by the charismatic tongue of the preacher dude. The
pall bearers finished rolling the casket to the front of the church and
everyone took their seats in anticipation.
He swayed back and forth slowly before he began. He was like a
gently cresting wave. He smiled a sad smile, he genuinely did feel sad at the
passing of another member of his church. The preacher dude knew some pertinent
facts about the old woman's life from the few distant relatives who provided
some details. Her husband and children had died years ago. The woman hadn't
worked in years. Over twenty years ago she lost her job; the last of many lost
jobs due to illnesses and injuries. The neighbors never saw her anymore, her
physical condition would not permit her to go out and the neighbors never went
in. There really wasn't much to say about the old recluse of a lady and yet the
preacher dude had a lot to say.
His cadence seemed to pick up rhythm as his speech went on. The
organ player and drummer kept up with the pulse of his powerful tempo. He went
from a gently cresting wave to a rolling sea billow. He was united in storm
with the wind of the pipe organ and thunderous drums. Shouts of "Amen!"
from the audience were like flashes of lightening that ignited the preacher
dude to soar higher. The congregants forgot about the old woman as they
listened and shouted. The show was almost over, the preacher dude was beginning
to wind down.
As was customary, the preacher dude invited anyone to come
forward if they had a few words to say. There was a momentary pause in the
funerary proceedings as no one stood up. Suddenly, a teenage boy stepped
forward. Nobody recognized him, he wasn't a member of their youth group. He
went to the podium and leaned toward the microphone and began to speak. The organ
and drums were silent. As he spoke, he turned toward the preacher dude and
asked a question: "Sir, why is it that you never told us the reason this
lady was wrapped in multicolored cloths?" Before he could answer, the boy
continued.
The young man shared how he and his sister used to do yard work
for the woman before they moved to another neighborhood. She would pay them in
cookies, fruitcake and pennies. She gave them what she had. One day, as the two
youngsters sat munching on some fruitcake, the boy asked her why she wore all
of those strips of brightly colored cloths. He said to the old woman:
"Every time I see you, there's another multicolored strip of cloth wrapped
around you. Soon you'll be wrapped from head to toe! Why are you all wrapped
up?" The old woman leaned heavily on her walker and hobbled over to a
faded purple chair.
To the boy and girl,
the old woman looked almost ablaze as she sunk into the faded purple chair wrapped
in her multicolored cloths. She said she began wrapping herself years ago. She
never wanted to be a burden on other people with her pain and troubles. So each
time she was hurt, she would wrap her wound in a brightly colored cloth. She
reasoned, correctly, that folks would not know she was hurting because she was
clad in gay attire. She could continue to be around other people and hide her
wounds. With each new wound, she would wrap another layer around her body.
When she was still able
to attend church, the folks who saw her were patronizingly courteous. They
labeled her a harmless old eccentric who made life interesting. Some even asked
her about her brightly colored wraps. She would just smile weakly and say she
liked to sow and then they would leave her alone. As church folk, they had done
their duty by spending a minute with a less fortunate person. The years went
by, the wrapping continued and nobody noticed her wounds.
The girl asked the old
woman a question: "But mam, don't you want to be healed from your wounds?"
The old lady smiled weakly and replied almost jokingly: "Of course I do,
but I don't want to bother anybody and now there's not much of me left to wrap.
Folks are busy doing church activities and I wouldn't want them to waste time
on an old woman like me. I'm just a wounded old soul. Besides, I've learned to
be content in my lonely wrappings. My wounds keep me company. I can relive them
one wrapping at a time."
The boy and girl left that day feeling very
sad. How could they help the old woman heal? How could they make her feel
valued and loved? They knew there wasn't much time left as she was very old and
very feeble. They knew from the experience of watching their Grandpa die, that
death would come soon for the old woman. There had to be a way to help the old
woman heel before she died. They sat in silence and pondered the moment.
It was almost as if a volcano erupted in the boys soul as he shouted:"Her life story! We can tell the world her life story!" The two discussed how they could spread the word about the
woman's story and help folks to recognize the hidden pain of people. They
agreed that nobody should have to live life all wrapped up in pain by
themselves. The young girl seemed to glow with the dawning of new ideas: "Even
if we can't remove physical pain we don't have to remove ourselves from their presence."
They designed a story that would teach people about hidden pain. They called it
the: "Mosaic Menorah." They knew a mosaic was a multicolored
gathering of different objects that created artwork. They knew that a Menorah was
a lampstand that shined light. They hoped they could shine hope and healing on
hurting people through the multicolored wrappings of the old woman.
The boy and girl went to see the old
woman the next day. She could barely move as she answered the door. The two
teenagers excitedly shared their idea with the woman. Her shoulders appeared to
take on the advent of buoyancy. Her lips curled upward as her smile tightened
the wrinkles on her face. For the first time in years she felt loved and
valued. All because someone spent some time with her and shared their presence.
Finishing his message, the boy turned to the preacher dude
and said:
"Thanks for your time.
Go do something nice for
somebody.
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