What Wicker Can Do For The Soul

He kept his hands over my eyes tightly, and made me promise not to peek. Me struggling to mentally map out the porch so that I wouldn't fall.

"Now, open your eyes!" And there under the shade of the trees were two wicker chairs.

"Where on earth did these come from?"

"Up the street. A lady had them in her driveway. She said they were free."

"Did you talk to the lady?"

"Yes. There was a table too, but we couldn't carry it. She said we could have them."

"Oh my goodness! You carried these all the way home?"

"Yeah. They're old, white, and country...so I knew you'd like them!"

A tender short story written on my heart by the youngest, on our twenty-second wedding anniversary.

"There is a place of quiet rest, near to the heart of God..."

Sitting in an old, white wicker chair, under the shade of the tall trees. Or on the porch, in the same chair, under little white lights, imitating fireflies in courtship.

Little Man learned from his father that the best surprises don't have to be new and shiny. Some of them, in all their finery come from the heart of a boy on a walk.

Warmly,
Alis