Dan and Dawn

Dan and Dawn

(true story, only the names have been changed to protect, well, I don't know what I'm protecting. But, they have been changed!)

They are Dan and Dawn. I am certain those with such simple names,
staccato and alliterative, are meant to live without parting,
to marry without a moment’s thought of ever living alone again.
Dan and Dawn are a single name, a three-syllable name without need
of a surname. Five years ago on a dry Pacific Northwest Day we
sat outside with family and friends and laughed the day the

50^th mile of their long journey and short sojourn among us all.

They do not live alone. Families like theirs never live alone.
At the right time, during the right season, when the need is great,
or the celebration is near, their house becomes the Group Home full
of ginger. A red-haired daughter with three red-haired daughters,
all the happy progeny of Dan and Dawn. Along with a son in California
their thoughts are central hope and, like every parent ever born,
central hesitation over every step each beloved takes.

Theirs is prodigal house; no questions asked when comfort is needed.
There is a Samaritan home; bandages and ointment come before any
question or conversation. And, will you take coffee? It is freshly brewed.
And, will you have a cookie? We wish Bob would gain some weight,
but he hardly eats any. And, will you return next week? (They do
not speak…but, “please hold his hand and pray, the pain, the pain,
the mere motion of touch. His head is a searing orb of vise-like
pain.

They are Dan and Dawn. They cry. They do not share the reason
with every visit or inquisition; but have loved so many, so many
wish to trouble would be the shortest season; wish the long spice
of peace they remember would return to dry the eyes of
the finest grapes ever found upon the finest vines in the vineyard.

They are Dan and Dawn; and I am their son, though only six years
have passed since I have known them. We share pain, his and mine,
though I am certain he suffers more deeply, with agony more severe..
But I will hear and tell of Dan and Dawn, the soft heart and hard life,
the meek hope and the prayer that grapples where no one hears until
creature and Creator have come to terms.

They are Dan and Dawn, moved more slowly than they desire,
Father, let time keep them here, and take them home, to know
the love of Christ, here, there, us, not-pain and ever-dried eyes
by the finger of the Love who taught them so well.