Hometown Rankin - October & November 2016

Camille Anding
The Time Coin
The sweltering, bone-dry days of
September were tolling a death
knell for Virginia’s backyard
garden. The surviving caladiums drooped
their once lovely heads, and the hardiest
petunias dangled from their baskets in a
farewell surrender. The roses had responded
well to the drop in humidity, but their roots cried for a soaking rain.
Virginia hurriedly cleared away the dinner dishes so she could
assuage her garden’s suffering. Smaller jobs seemed to jump in the way
so by the time Virginia opened the back door, the evening light had
retired. Not to be deterred from her task, Virginia reached for the
flashlight and headed for the watering hose.
The earth was parched, and the plants seemed lifeless, but the sounds
said there was life. It was too dark to know what kind of life, but all
unidentified creatures seemed to be making noise. Was it crickets,
cicadas, locusts or grasshoppers – or a combination of all? Virginia
wasn’t sure, but their amplifiers were on full throttle. The noise would
qualify as a roar.
“Amazing,” Virginia thought to herself that tiny insects could create
such a symphony.
Symphony? Virginia was confident that not everyone would define
those noises in musical terms, but growing up listening to the night
sounds makes one appreciate the unique
summer nights in the country.
Another familiar noise broke Virginia’s
concentration on God’s little creatures. She
tossed the hose to pull her cell phone from
her pocket. “Hi, Mama,” the welcomed voice
greeted. It was Marie, her firstborn who
was married with her own family.
Before Virginia could finish asking Marie about how things were
going, Marie interrupted. “Where are you, Mama?” she asked. “Outside,
watering my roses.” “I knew it,” Marie responded, “I hear home!”
After their conversation ended, Virginia continued watering her
roses. She thought how anyone could hear the roar of the summer night
creatures, but not everyone has spiritual ears to hear the still, small voice
of God.
For the next few moments, amid the fanfare of the summer night,
Virginia’s mind drifted from the night sounds and thirsty plants to a
well of contemplation. She thought about how easily the clamor of
sounds and pleasures can muffle the eternal voice of God.
With garden hose in hand, Virginia dedicated herself to more
disciplined focus on spending time alone with God. She spoke audibly
into the heavens, “Lord, when You speak, I want to say without
hesitation, ‘I hear home.’” n
98 • October/November 2016