In winter I walk in the basement. It is partly finished so isn’t too cold and offers a view of a different part of my life. There is one large painting of a lion that once graced our travel agency…I don’t mind lions in the basement but they are a bit much in the living room. And of course there are boxes…most I have tagged and that helps but they are probably things that my daughters will “turf” when I am gone…they are precious only to me.
My walk is usually done in my plastic shoes. I bought the things years ago when I was complaining to my doctor about my feet. He said he had bought a pair and found they were very comfortable. He (a big man, with about size 12 or 13 feet) said that the only pair he could find to fit him were multi-coloured and looked ridiculous. One day his door bell rang and he wasn’t sure if he looked sillier in his bare feet or in his plastic shoes, so he just kicked his shoes into a corner. He is gone now, but each time I put on my plastic shoes, I think fondly of him.
There on the shelf in the basement was a pair of my husband’s summer sandals. Wow! Memories, memories. Footwear is so personal and I held them to my chest and wept a few tears. Do you never stop grieving?
Also in the basement is my black and white painting that I wrote about on July 23, 2012,
entitled, “The Hidden Christ.” You can click back on it but the gist of it was I had this painting for years and couldn’t figure out what it represented. Finally, one day I looked at it and realized it was the face of Christ.
Now, as I walked past the boxes, and the painting of Christ, I no longer squint to see him. His face surfaces immediately. I am reminded that He has always been there even during those years when I really didn’t see him.
His painting occupies its special corner in the basement, (which is the foundation of my home and by the same token He is the foundation of my faith.)
So whether I am looking at my boxed up memories, the painting of a stately lion resting in the grass, or my black and white painting of Jesus’s face, my basement walk is a reminder that Christ’s presence is both downstairs and upstairs and I am never without his companionship.
