Chasers

Do you have something you love to chase? A hobby, a sport, a person?

Chasing can be fun. Here's my story. What's yours?

Chasers

    The afternoon coolness creeps through the opening in the sleeves of my jean jacket and yet there is a brush of warmth on my neck. The sun makes his presence known as he fences with the wind and I too get ready to practice my sport.  

      The trees on the streets around me glow with their multi-shades of autumn colors and I pause to delight in their boasting.  Today nature drew a perfect outfit from her closet and Murphy, North Carolina wears it well.

      An emerald green, life size topiary moose stands in front of the store where my husband and I part. He on his treasure hunt and I on mine. He on his chase for an item he can't find at home, the thing he loves, a perfect, creamy, just right chocolate milk. "It's hard to find any more," he says.   And I? I’m also ready to chase something I love. I open the door of The Trading Post, turn right and go straight  toward the room in the back, the bathroom.   

       I weave  through the store passing beautiful cabin furniture, Christmas decorations, animals, once living now stuffed and  mountain paintings…everything displayed in the perfect order to cause that desired cozy effect. I’m pulled by all sorts of distracting forces. Colors, textures, scents. Lit maple candles, their aroma summoning. But, I’m a chaser with a purpose.

     The bathroom is empty. I shut the door and lock it... close the throne’s lid and sit.  My camera is sprung from my backpack for a serious work out and I pray no one disturbs me. Now for the goods.  I inspect the place like I do every year and think…someone could manage a few mean chachacha steps in here. I quickly remind myself this is a bathroom for costumers and time is of the essence. I focus on the walls around me and Ah! Voila! Jackpot! Bingo!  There they are. Words in frames all over the walls... I am a word chaser!

   Yes!  I search for that particular message to impact me, thrill me, shake me. The  ancient Greek I once studied called it a rhema. A specific word for a situation.  For me, that special saying is like a warm, garment, fashioned not just with functional purpose but beyond that… with striking looks and decoration. A garment like those worn by  ladies in classic movies. A coat with a sparkling brooch. Just the right one to use in my cold winters.  

  I snap picture after picture determined to free the bathroom of its squatter. And then after the camera's last wink... I hear a knock on the door.

 “Someone in there?”   My time is up.

“Yes, coming.”

 Once again the store’s beautiful displays welcome me.  I find a nice rocking chair in which to sit and recall my visit to the store the year before.  That time my chase proved successful. I found the words of my mother’s favorite hymn, Great Is Thy Faithfulness, inscribed in bold letters, with the musical notes below it. This is the hymn she wants sung at the celebration of her home going!  I thought of how the sign was a symbol, displaying the measure, of my mother’s strong faith. How often she claims… M y God is faithful. I brought that sign home to my mother, where it lives now, in her little living room.  

  The memory of my past victory chasing encourages me. I bring out my camera once again and look through my pictures. The signs in the bathroom are far from the beautiful coat with brooch I’m seeking. Common and over used they remind me of  the garment I once pulled out of a box in a church basement. One used coat among many, tossed in a box under the sign, For Cuban Refugees Going North.

  I put my camera away and sit with my heart holding its popped balloon. What to do? Should I give up the chase?

 My eyes wonder around scanning and then…a sign on the wall.

The words are embroidered,  and the colors of the sign are quiet, subtle. But, I find myself breathing faster.  I have heard this before. My daughter  found this message after the sonogram. The day, her six and eight year old girls, her husband, and I waited in the room with her, to find out whether she was expecting a little boy or girl.  The day, the technician said to all of us…the baby has no heartbeat.

  I read the words inside the frame. Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about  learning to dance in the rain. I search for a tissue and know my chase is over. I found the coat with the rich, diamond brooch from Tiffany’s! A rhema to hold close…a rhema to hold me close.

  I purchase my sign and then find myself standing once again in Murphy’s sunshine. The temperature is up now. Wrapped in warmth without and within I reach for my cell phone and dial the familiar number. Time to chase something else I love. My chocolate milk chaser!