Notes from the Waxhaws

Time to begin

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“The preliminaries are over. The darkness has cleared. It is time to begin.”

The Sacred Journey, Charles Foster

I’ve rarely used Sharon’s car during the last eight months, and so the battery, not surprisingly, died. I tried recharging it, but it appeared to be beyond the point of resuscitation. So…I spent Saturday morning putting in a new battery. Lately, the simplest tasks somehow turn into major projects for me, so I spent the better part of three hours doing what should have taken ten minutes. Finding the right ratchet thingy to fit the nuts (or is it the bolts) that attach the wires to the battery…discovering that it’s a metric nut…10 millimeters to be exact. Discovering that the nut on the negative terminal is an immovable object that won’t be budged no matter how much force is applied…that the bolt is a bit too long for the ratchet thingy to attach properly to the nut . A lot of huffing and puffing…and feeling sorry for myself…as I walk up and back to the tool shed to find the right size of the right tool that I think I need. Finally, resorting to using a hacksaw blade held in my canvas garden gloved right hand to cut and shorten the bolt so that I can then fit the ratchet thingy properly onto the 10mm nut. Congratulating myself…after profusely offering thanks for divine intervention…for getting the old battery out, and  the new battery in. (Did I mention the strange brew of baking soda and water that, at one point, I poured over the corroded negative terminal, which…having used a bit too much of this concoction… created a mound of bubbling foam over the entire battery…and needed to be sopped up with handfuls of paper towels?)

Whew…the battery was now in place…and the car, at last, started up immediately.

Somewhere in the whole process…I think it was when I was trying to loosen the nut with a hammer and a rather sharp wood chisel…the chisel slipped and cut my finger right beside my wedding ring. So I had to go into the house to get a band-aid to keep the bleeding in check. Later in the day, all done with my simple Saturday morning project,  sitting on the front porch, feeling rather proud of my accomplishment, I looked down at my left hand, and noticed that I wasn’t wearing my wedding ring. I had taken it off when I cleaned up my finger and wrapped it with the band-aid. I then realized that it was the first time in over thirteen years that I wasn’t wearing the ring.

Sunday morning, getting ready for church, I noticed the ring on the sink in the bathroom where I had laid it the previous day. I was about to put it on again when the words…”Leave it off…time to let me go”…suddenly popped into my head. Up until that point, I hadn’t really planned on ever taking the ring off, but at that moment, it seemed like the most natural thing to do. It’s now on Sharon’s ring holder, a little glass heart-shaped dish with a post in the center…right next to her wedding ring.


Written by Jim

October 10, 2011 at 9:20 pm

Posted in Grieving

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