For the babies

    I scrubbed hard at the black grime on the high-chair tray while I chatted with the director of the pregnancy support center.

    
    “Do you ever know who is giving the clothes and stuff or is it all anonymous?” She typed for a minute before answering.

    
    “A lot of people just drop things in the back door, but sometimes they come in with questions about what we do here. Or they come in to get things they need from the boutique.”  

    “There’s an elderly lady who comes in about twice a month… She won’t even look at me.” She stopped talking and looked thoughtfully at nothing for a minute. 


    “Every time I see her it looks like she’s on the verge of tears and she won’t talk to me except to hand me a beautiful, handmade blanket and say ‘This is for the babies,’ then she leaves.”

My little niece

She's the cutest little thing ever. My drawing can't even come close.

Innocence

I saw wide dark eyes when I opened the door. I had expected her to be asleep.


“G’morning little girl.” I took care not to talk too loudly or startle her.


“Hi Adie Gace.” She spoke in a barley audible whisper.


My little two-year-old niece slowly stood up and, when I held out my hands, stepped between them and waited to be lifted. She stood there, looking so small and also so trusting. How sweet is innocence! I didn’t have to pick her up. I could even strike her down, but she didn’t know that.


This little one wouldn't understand the sudden pain that blurred my vision. Sharp, cold pain. Pain for other little children who have felt things that innocence has not. Having just started to grow out of childhood myself, I am just beginning to understand what it is. The marring and distortion of childhood innocence is, by far, the hardest thing for me to forgive.


It seems that there are so many children who don’t have a true mother or father, or anyone else who would know them or their importance. In reality, every child, innocent or seemingly otherwise, has a Father who will teach them innocence. He, also, is stronger than I, and can forgive the ones who have so wronged his little children.

What music looks like

Apparently I drew this when I was 12. I love finding old sketchbooks.

Celtic knots

David Smythe drew these knots. The tree is my favorite.

East Timor

I did this drawing because I think it captures the history of East Timor;
full of war and sorrow.

Serreptitious

She stood quickly and slipped into her cardigan. The cab pulled up behind the jeweler's and she ran across the wet street.

 “674 East Stone Street. Thanks Harry.”

 The cabby glanced back and handed her a small piece of paper with a signature on it.

 “Got this from his briefcase. Normally he won’t take just any cab but I got things worked out just right.”

 She studied the name on the small dirty paper.

 “You sure they don’t have a recent confirmation of this?”

 “A what?”

 “Did they check his signature after last month?”

 “I don’t know, but they did- That’s him you’d better go.”

She stepped out of the cab and walked slowly by her contact who fell in beside her. When he coughed she handed him the copied signature and glanced behind her. The couple then walked towards the double doors of the bank.

 The clerk looked up from her desk and smiled.

 “Can I help you?”

 “Yes I’d like to get into my safety deposit box.”

 “Do you have your key with you sir?”

 “Yes.”

 “Would you please sign here sir? And if you would follow me?”

 The clerk inserted the bank’s key and turned it. The man with her did the same. After the clerk was back at her desk, the couple placed the contents of the box in her purse.  They were just walking out the door when they heard from behind them;

 “Excuse me sir but you...”

 The couple froze and inside his coat, the man clutched his gun.

 “You forgot your key. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

 “No that’ll be all. Thanks.”

          They stepped outside and walked one block before climbing into the waiting cab.

          “You know where we’re going Harry. Tomas, you’re going to be a lot more careful next time!”

          “What’d I do?”

          “You can’t just pull your gun any time you think it’d be handy.”

          “I never did.”

          “You’re stupid enough to think nobody’d notice what you’re doing. Plenty of people could have known.”

          Tomas squirmed in his seat. Harry had told him to do this job with her, said she was a peach.

          “Tomas, next time you reach for your gun and the heat blows over without it, pull a cigarette out instead. That throws off any body watching.”

          Tomas began to smile.

          “Colene, I never knew you were such a peach.”

         Harry's back stiffened and Thomas's smile widened.

         She glanced over at him.

          “We’re here. Get out.”  


These characters fill lots of thoughts and spare time of mine.