"For better or for worse is what we promised.  I hope that this is the worst

that it gets," she said.

 

I always wanted to fly like a seagull.  I love how they hang in one spot. 

 My Dad always told me that they could do that because they were attached

to strings up in Heaven.  When I asked why they don't get tangled up, he'd say

"That's because they are attached to "Angel Birds."

 

That's right.  At that age I bought into that idea, too.  That covered all the bases. 

You see I asked one day if animals go to heaven.  He said yes.  So it made sense

to me that they would help animals on Earth. 

 

I wish it were true of people.  I wish that angels could attach strings to those who

need help and just walk them through it.  Then this young lady wouldn't have been

sitting there on the rocks crying.

 

Just off to the left of the famous "Forty Steps" on the Cliff Walks in Newport,

you can climb down and sit on the rocks.  That's where I found her.

 

It's a common sight to see people sitting along the waters edge reading,

dreaming and connecting with the world around them.  Some come there to remember,

others to forget.  She was some where in between.  There was so much she was

trying to hold on to and yet, parts she wished she could toss into the ocean.

 

I happened to walk by just when she was letting go.

 

"It's an incredible day, isn't it," I said.

 

"For some people," she replied.

 

"Well, it's really incredible for everyone.  It's just that sometimes we choose

not to acknowledge it.  People see what they want to see." I replied.

 

"That's how it is with my husband and I.  I'm invisible to him at times.  I guess he

chooses not to see how incredible I am."

 

"What about you?  Do you take time to acknowledge him?  You know an incredible 

day is like an incredible marriage.  It's always there.  One looks at it and sees how

bad it is and the other looks and sees the beauty in it.  But the day, like the marriage,

is just always there. It's what you make of it."

 

"But I don't think we are both seeing it the same way," she said.

 

"See the horizon out there?  Look up toward the sky and tell me what you see," I asked of her.

 

"Well, I see the clouds passing by," she told me.

 

"That's funny.  When I look out there, I see the blue sky.  The clouds challenge me.  They

block what I really want to see.  My choice is to focus on the clouds or be thankful I can still

see the sky.  That's because I have taught myself to look beyond the obvious."

 

"So I'm not really seeing my marriage, our love and commitment.  I'm seeing the

problems," she said.

 

"Exactly," I said.  "So do you love him?"

 

"Yes, of course!"

 

"At night when you roll over and he's there, do you look into his eyes and sigh a prayer

of thanks for having him in your life?"

 

"Yes, I do."

 

"Can you remember the last time you were home alone?  What did the emptiness feel like?"

 

"At first I'll admit it was nice.  I enjoy private times alone."

 

"But was there point when you found yourself longing for his voice, his smile, even his

groans and gripes?"

 

"Yes.  He was out of town and the early evening was great.  I did what I wanted to do. 

But then later that evening, as I faced the prospect of heading up the stairs alone,

I suddenly felt like a child lost and afraid."

 

"Okay.  All that makes up what you call your marriage.   That's the sky.  That's the day. 

It's always there.  What you are focusing on right now are the clouds.  See the marriage

for what it is.  The clouds come and go.  Talk to him about the clouds but start by looking at the sky together."

 

 

I see, I see something hopeful.

 

"I Believe in you!"

Bob