The Marred Jar of Clay

"Would God still forgive me?"

Her big, black, frightened eyes glistened with fresh tears, I tried to hold back my own. Guilt eats her up; fear of judgment creeps at the back of her mind, while I sit, silently praying for the right words.


Maybe you had asked this question yourself. You fall into the trap of sin even after being born again, and wonder in desperation how to get back in track with the Lord. After being in the light for quite some time, you unconsciously consciously take the wrong curb and get yourself into the darker side of town. Yeah, it's fine and pleasurable for a while, but when you realize you're at the wrong side and go back, the struggle with guilt doesn't silence itself.

"Would God still forgive me?"

1 John 1:9 reminds us that, "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness."



Who says our sin is mightier than our God? Guilt would be there when we sin, yes, but think of it as the pushing reminder that we are still in the flesh and we have to be dependent on the Lord. It is the Holy Spirit's way of telling us, "My child, you're swerving from the light again."


Acknowledge your guilt, but do not let it eat you up. Do not wallow in the sloppy guilt that keeps you from going back to your romance with Christ. Do not settle with concluding statements like, "Well, I really am filthy, the Lord doesn't want anything to do with me now." Know that the enemy injects us with thoughts that remind us of our sins, especially the most repulsive ones. Would you really allow that the joy of your salvation be stolen? Would you allow the enemy to rejoice over his successful plan to pull you from God?




One of the most classic images the Lord has given us to represent how He transforms us is the potter, and the clay under his hands.

"Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in My hand..." Jeremiah 18:6b

Christians are works in progress. Some are almost perfect clay pots, some are barely shaped, but rest assured, we are still on the wheel; only the Lord knows how much transformation we had been through and how near we have come to Christ-likeness.


Does this mean that we are in a steady progress towards our goal? No, of course not. Most of the time we go 1, 2, 3, 4, 3, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 5, 4, slipping back a few times before going back up, instead of the steady progressing we are made to believe in. For although we are renewed, we still live in the world in our flesh, and most of the time, we get marred along the process of transformation. Perhaps the impurities that had caused the marring were the things we had refused to give up, or our simple acts of disobedience to His commands.

"But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as it seemed best to him." Jeremiah 18:4

Would the Lord get tired because you slipped? No. Do not get discouraged by the stone that appears to ruin your clay. But allow the grace and mercy of God to refashion you; He is more than willing to put you back on His wheel.


So okay, let's say you had given in to your sinful nature and now you want to go back to your fellowship with God. My guilt is eating me; the Lord is hiding His face from me now because of my disobedience!




Remember King David.

He was called a man after God's own heart despite the repulsive sins his hands had insisted on making. He murdered innocent Uriah after committing adultery with Bathsheba, Uriah's wife. He gave in to lust and trusted his own judgment. Why would this kind of man be a man after God's heart?

"Then David said to Nathan, 'I have sinned against the Lord.'" 2 Samuel 12:13

David's confession led to his repentance; in the same way, the Lord only asks that we confess our sins and repent, turning away from the sin a full 180 degrees. This is not about constant asking of forgiveness after repeated commitment of sins. Remember that the Lord does not take pleasure in empty prayers and people who call out to him, "Lord!" yet refuse to follow all that He teaches.

"Of them the proverbs are true: 'A dog returns to its vomit,' and, 'A sow that is washed goes back to her wallowing in the mud.'"

2 Peter 2:22

Yes, there are times that we still sin. I know I do. But this is because flesh would always be prone to sin. This doesn't mean we could not conquer it though. Christ did. And because in Christ we had already died to flesh and are no longer tied to it (Romans 6:11), in Christ we would also emerge victorious over temptations, striving daily to turn our backs to our old, sinful ways. Even though along the process, we slip a few times, it doesn't mean we're stopping and aren't moving forward.



As you move forward, may you also learn to pray the way David had prayed when the guilt of his sin had crept in to him.

"Blessed is he whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered. Blessed is the man whose sin the LORD does not count against him and in whose spirit is no deceit. When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer. Then I acknowledged my sin to you and did not cover my iniquity. I said, 'I will confess my transgressions to the LORD' - and You forgave the guilt of my sin."

Psalm 32:1-5

"Would God still forgive me?"

It's how you respond to sin, brothers and sisters. Either you confess and turn away from the sin like King David had, or you keep it hidden and wallow in it and the guilt along with it as Judas Iscariot had.



"Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hope unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful."

Hebrews 10:19-23

Be confident in the Lord. The more you doubt His ability to forgive your seemingly unforgivable sin, the more you limit His forgiveness through Jesus Christ's sacrifice on the cross. I pray the Lord move in you, my dear brethren.

True Set-Apartness

Years ago I found myself singing along to my classmate's music blaring through his phone. It was a secular song and I was unmindful of his presence.

"Tig-kanta diay ka'g mga ing-ani, Katherine?" he asked me in genuine curiosity. (You sing these kinds of songs?) I giggled, unsure if I should be embarrassed or not. It was, although secular, not really the kind of song you'd listen to in parties, so I couldn't see why my classmate was baffled with my knowledge of the song.

"Oo uy. Tig-kanta sad ko'g mga ani. Ikaw jud," I replied to him, half-laughing. (Of course I do, silly!)



I remember feeling a tad proud of how I answered him. It was as if I was telling him how Christians are not boring people, as defined by their standards. It was if I was showing to him how we aren't all crazy about restricting our choice of music to hymns. Being surrounded by unbelievers everyday had motivated me then to help them realize that the likes of us are not meant to be feared. That the likes of us aren't always that creepily socially awkward. And that the likes of us could be their friends too. I went along with them, did the things normal teenage girls would've been doing, and gushed over the latest trends. I was almost among them, except that I limited my music choice, never said foul words, and never went to the parties most of them went to. Perhaps, I thought, I'd shine that way. It was pretty easy. I quickly gained friends without offending anybody's beliefs (or unbelief, if you could call it that). My first few years of being a college student swept by like a breeze, and how things had been, had sadly remained the same, too; the leaf that shook when the wind blew was as still as it had been before the wind came. The friends that I claimed to have, were unmoved from the deep pit. Was it possible that the Lord had not been evident in my life if my existence was not enough to make them see God? It's true that college life had been too safe so far. Was I doing it all wrong? Had I, the woman claiming to be a follower of Christ, took Him to fit in my life, and not the other way around?


Now I realize what a horrible mistake my method was.


Imagine so-called Christians in the world today and the only thing you see in them that makes you think, "Hm, he must be a believer," is the fact that he has more Hillsong songs in his iPod than an average person, and that he has occasional posts of verses on his Facebook wall.

When you say that a Christian, a believer, a follower of Christ is set apart, how exactly does he/she need to be separated? How far should one go to be able to fall under set-apartness? Would the inclusion of the existence of Christ be enough?


Galatians 2:20 says, "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me."


When we asked the Lord Jesus to come into our lives as our Savior AND our Lord, we had already given our lives to Him. When we committed ourselves to be His disciple, we had already surrendered everything in His hands. Why in the world would a so-called Christian bring the name of Christ and still live his/her life according to his/her terms and not God's?

I had been guilty of this too for a very long time. Although I laid down my purity for the Lord to guard, I had still tugged a part of it towards me. It was like telling a person to take my heavy bag even with my hands tightly clutching its seam.


We had called ourselves set-apart, royalty by virtue of the adoption by the King of kings, and yet we strive to be the kind of royalty this world promotes! The kind of princes and princesses the Lord wants is the kind that seeks His face without ceasing, unmindful of the fast-paced, monstrous world. The Lord desires that His princes and princesses wear His armor rather than the luxurious robes the world tries to drape over them. For in this world there is a battle, not a tea party! The Lord wants undivided attention; He demands our gaze fixed on His shining face and glory. God demands selfless submission because He knows real well that only when our faces are focused on Him, the whole of the ugly shadow falls behind.

"For the eyes of the Lord range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to Him." 2 Chronicles 16:9

The Lord does not take pleasure in half-committed believers. He does not smile at the excuses we give each time the Holy Spirit whispers to us His desire for us to be intimate with our relationship. When Jesus came to Mary and Martha's home, he rebuked Martha for fretting over the work to do. The Lord wants our full attention! And only then do we truly understand what it means to be set-apart.

Christianity is not a social organization! We do not meet a fellow believer and discuss the songs of Christian bands. We do not meet a fellow believer and talk about the other Christians that might be our mutual friends. We do not just talk about the fun that had happened during our fellowships. Christianity is a relationship. It is a commitment. It is following Jesus Christ without compromises.


I am not being an extremist. This is only the truth. In fact, this is the moment we should stand up and be radical about our faith. The time of complacency should have been long gone. If we claim to be set-apart, as children of God, then we must act like one. This is what the Lord meant by being the light and the salt of the earth. Do we really think we could act as salt and light with the kind of lifestyle that only involved Christ instead of the lifestyle that is built on Christ himself?

When we are set apart for God, we have been consecrated to Him. We have already been separated to be living sacrifices for His glory. And because we are, the things we once hold on to should be burned in God's refining furnace. We have to give our world up to be able to draw closer to Him. Do not listen to the world when it says it's okay to be a discreet Christian, because your life is meant to shout Jesus! no matter where you stand.


Try to ask yourself this question, brethren. If you were an unbeliever and met yourself at school or at work, would you be able to see the light of Christ in you right away, or would you only find out when you mention you are?



"You show that you a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts." 2 Corinthians 3:3


I URGE YOU. LIVE A SET-APART LIFE BUILT ON CHRIST.

Fragrance Under Heat

There is so much I want to write all at once. Kuya Adyng and I had discussed quite a few matters concerning the church and our own spiritual lives, that ideas are pretty much still jumbled in my head waiting to be written down.

No, I'm not writing the things we had talked about (yet). This post would be about the entirety of the rest of my night, being blessed despite circumstances that could've convinced me otherwise. I slightly surfed through Aimae's most viewed websites on her laptop earlier in the evening, and one link led me to a particular website which was unusually foreign yet familiar. SetApartGirl. It rang beautifully in my ears, identifying with my soul right away. So there I was, spending the rest of the night watching their ministries' videos, listening to Eric (Leslie's husband) Ludy's sermons, and reading their devotionals. The lamp had, once again, been refilled with sweet-smelling oil.


This one devotional especially shot through me like it was specially tailored for me. Thinking about it now, I know this one seems pretty much tailored for you, too. Read on, friends, and I pray the Holy Spirit would continue to lead you as you read this devotional from the site. Be blessed. (Click on the photo below to check out their beautiful page.)

WHEN TRIALS STEEP SWEETNESS

My Mom has always been the picture of feminine grace and elegance. I always thought she looked more like a heroine that stepped out of a Jane Austen novel than a 21st-century woman. She carries herself with the dignity of a proper English dame and has a deep fondness for tea, just as you’d imagine every stately lady should! 

I share many of dear Mom’s passions, but our feelings towards tea are not mutual; I simply do not like this hot beverage so many fawn over. Since I’ve been married, I have not kept tea in the house (except my Raspberry Leaf Pregnancy Tea; which was hard to stomach) so when my Mom came over for a visit recently, she brought some of her favorite tea in a little Ziploc baggie all the way from South Africa.

One of the things I don’t like about tea is the smell that immediately overpowers all others the moment you pour boiling water on it. A little teabag releases its contents and fragrance in the midst of intense heat. Constant whiffs of that signature tea smell at eleven, four, and right before bedtime (my Mom’s “tea times”) every day, have caused me to consider the precious principle hidden in those tea leaves. 

Just as you can immediately tell what the contents of the teabag are when the heat of the water touches it, you can immediately tell what is inside of a person when they are placed under the heat of difficult or trying situations. What comes out of us when the boiling water of life’s trials, difficulties, and challenges fall on our souls? It is easy to showcase peace and patience when things are going our way and we feel like we are walking on sunshine. But the call for us as Christians, is to emit and diffuse the sweet fragrance of the knowledge of Christ, not only when it’s easy, but especially in the moments of pain and difficulty! We ought to be so filled with His Spirit inside, that He is the scent that spills out of us when the heat is turned up!

Spurgeon–not surprisingly–says it well: “Trials teach us what we are; they dig up the soil, and let us see what we are made of.” What a mighty testimony Christianity is when it stands strong, remains calm, endures patiently, and radiates joy in the very flames of difficulty! Meditating on this made me rethink the way I respond to not only the bigger trials in my life, but also the every day challenges we all face. Am I spreading the sweet smell of Christ in and around my home, husband, and my little baby girl, even when I feel tired after a long day of tending to the domestic affairs of the family?

Let us remember the words of James (1:2) “My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations;” and may the Christ-life within us become all the more visible and fragrant in the midst of every trial. 

- Elsje Zornes

Stubborn, Skydiving Dreams

My study would be totally revamped. I do not know what to feel. I had been expecting the feeling of relief today but the burden seems to be pressing itself further down into my gut. Dr. Christine congratulated me for coming up with an interesting study. The panel members repeatedly said it was a good study, but I'm afraid to believe they were only trying to make things less bad for me. In the end, they suggested I shift my study to the collection of the tales alone. All my years as an English major, I never had been stirred by the sight of papers such as these. Now I do not know if there is still something to look forward to in my study.

Gen, one of my secretaries during the defense came up to me at the next room and said, "Excited kaayo ko sa imong study, Aine!" I smiled and said, "Ako pud." I don't know if I really am, though I wish I could make myself believe I was.


It's hard not knowing where to start. With just one look at the paper Dr. Christine gave back to me, the pressured feeling suffocates me again. Speaking of pressure, I still have to check 150 essays. Imagine that.


I have to completely change my paper, and I have to pass it before Wednesday, next week. Dreams skydive as my mind insists I had lost the chance of earning the Best Thesis title.




Somewhere along the course of my growth I heard a saying which reminded people not to convince themselves something is difficult to handle. Things are easy when you convince yourself they are, they say. I had wanted to say I do not know how to write in a technical manner - in a research paper, for example, but I remembered this saying so I have to control myself. They regarded my "sweeping" statements as something almost laughable. I don't know how to explain how exactly I felt about myself just then. I was actually crying beneath the smiling mask, teasing my writing skills which are always beneath the standards they require. In my eighteen years, I had never written a serious, technical article that I would say is decent. Now, I'm wondering if there still is a chance for me.



I asked myself earlier if I could bear shifting courses. No, my mind said. It's too late to give up. After a moment of cognitive silence, I again raised a question my other self would answer: Am I really meant to write? If I aren't, what am I supposed to become?

I am frustrated. I am disappointed. I am embarrassed. I am disappointed because I had failed their high expectations. I am disappointed because I do not know if I could still handle the mere pressure of graduating on time. The thought of disappointing the panel again still sends shivers down my spine, I want to throw up. Seriously, I do.



Lord, tell me how to. I have never felt so stupid and incompetent. This particular semester had totally taken off my assumption of my being smart. I really am not. How do I turn on the switch, Lord? 




Remm text messaged me after I wrote the last line, saying he really likes my study. That was when the tears started rolling down my cheeks in disagreement.




Can you hear that muffled noise? It's underneath the mask, trying to silence itself.

To a Fellow Princess ♕

Dear Ena,


I almost forgot, to tell you the truth. Time for me had apparently been in a frenzy ever since October started. But know that despite almost forgetting, the memories of you in me would remain, like an aged Polaroid pasted on an equally aged wall.



You were that pretty sophomore who greeted me right outside the CON Hall on that Freshmen Nite Out last June 2010. I was a frosh that time and I barely knew anyone from YA, yet there you were, ready to be my first ate in church.

"Ako diay si Ate Ena," you told me in your usual sweet voice. Both your hands were clasped together tightly, and you graciously swooned towards me, half-skipping in all girlishness. All I remembered was the red ribbon on your head, and your floral scent.

There were a lot of memories made after that, and I know you remember, because you're that kind of girl. You're the kind of girl who goes to bed and spends a few more hours recalling the details of events. You're the kind of girl who takes out an ordinary rush of events and coats it with affection, as if the park were a flower garden, and as if rocks were something more.

Starting college as a girly girl had been so much easier with you and Ate Elay around. You were the sisters I never had. Don't you find it funny how the trials Ate Elay went through that you eventually went through, too, had also been passed down to me? It was like that. It was as if a connecting cord had been stitched through our souls all this time.

Now that we're miles apart, I'd still like to believe that the cord that had connected the three of us has not yet dissolved, and that sooner or later it'd have to tighten in distance and bring us together on a girly date again. I'd like to hope that when God would allow that to happen, we'd resume to our mini-food spree and substantial girl talks, mindful of His work in us, His princesses. I know the two of you also believe we'd never be too old for the princess talks. After all, we still are.

I admire the strength in you no matter how frail you look like. I may no longer be there to hear your stories, En, but you're still in my prayers. Do not ever forget that your sister's still here with the other end of the cord. We will see each other soon, En. We will. 

Happy birthday, Princess! May the Lord continue to shape you inside out into the kind of woman He wants you to become. You are not an earthly princess, Ena Fabe; you know you are set apart. Being set apart means being different and separated from the rest (as Christ is in you), thus comparing your story with anybody's would be pointless and utterly foolish. Remember that you are still on the race, and the Lord wants you to seek Him above all things. Continue being a blessing, En, as you grow and blossom in the Lord, for the most beautiful flowers are planted and grown on the best soil.

"And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ - to the glory and praise of God." Philippians 1:9-11

This is only but a small piece of the entirety of my gratefulness for having known you, En. I miss you so so much. ♥♥♥

Aine

Cluttered Bed, Lightened Burden

Finally, I had gotten some time off from school work. Actually, I still have a couple of papers to write, and a thesis proposal to defend, but not writing anything on my blog feels worse than not writing anything at all. The Lord had been faithful to me the past week, waking me up at just the right time (usually at dawn) whenever I accidentally fall asleep in the middle of my paper works. That happened last night. I accidentally fell asleep because I work on my bed all the time; if you could see my bed, it's actually cluttered with sheets of papers, notebooks, stuffed toys, fiction and non-fiction books, and my phone and laptop. Sometimes my mom comes in and starts talking about how my bed doesn't look like a lady's. Despite mild scoldings, I actually like how it currently looks like, though I keep it to myself. It gives me the feels of being a geek. It reminds me of the joys of being an English major. It reminds me that I was meant to be in a cluttered work space - with cluttered ideas and inspiration that come to me from every corner of the atmosphere.


Unusually, my eyes fluttered open at 5AM this morning (I normally wake up half past 8 during normal days). "Gah, my thesis paper and lesson plan!" my mind was yelling at me. On normal days, I'd probably stare at my computer screen and be unproductive until the once jet black sky transforms to mysterious blue. This morning though, I had never worked so fast. It basically took me less than an hour to tailor a lesson plan for our TESL App class. It was almost magic, like things slow down and you're in a fast forward motion. I had also finally completely revised my thesis proposal at noon. It still comes to me as a miracle whenever the Lord generously sprinkles me with His wisdom, as if I deserved it when in fact I don't. Until this moment, I still could not comprehend how close I am to the academic finish line! Years from now, I know I'd look back, remember how I'd cried underneath the pressure of education, and praise the Lord for the strength, wisdom, and deliverance.


There is still quite a long way to go, but at least the weight of the pains of it is not as terrible as last week's. There are a lot more things to thank the Lord for, too. However, I think I am much more psyched on setting the others apart for separate, and much better posts. I'm working on a new one right now, so I'd probably post it in 24 hours or so.

xoxo,
A


P.S.
My bed almost exactly looks like this, since last week. Honestly, it's way messier, but I do sleep with opened books and opened gadgets. -.- I was thinking of posting an actual photo, but I still have a lot to do, and a lot more blog entries to post, so maybe next time. :)

Before Curtains Close and Doors Open to Wet the Sheets

I honestly have no idea why I'm still up when I have to be early for church tomorrow. After researching for my mom's lessons for her doctoral class, there has been an unusual surge of energy that keeps me from resting. It might be her International Economics subject that I had painstakingly researched on, but I'm not quite sure about that. Something tells me it's time for another blog blog entry, not that I didn't have enough already, so I straightened my back from my comfortable lying position only to hunch over my laptop again. It reminds me of being in the most comfortable position you could possibly have on your bed with your eyelids close to paradise, only to realize you have to go to the toilet so bad.

It's not so bad, actually. It's like relieving yourself of something. It is a healthy habit, except that I'm doing this way past bed time which is not a healthy habit at all. But thinking about it, if you wake up in the middle of the night and find your intestines wanting to barf, you have to get to the toilet and do your business, my friend, or things would get even worse. I suppose writing works the same way. You release it and the heavy feeling goes away.




***********

I wrote all that last night, yet my mind went blank when I wanted to add some more of my thoughts. So I figured, I'll save it for the next day, which I did. Aaaand now I have no idea what else to write. I have just been to church, and now I'm back home for lunch before I go on a family date. There is still time to kill, and my fingers are itching to write some more, despite the lack of ideas. My. My. Stubborn little fingers.


I have made a resolution of posting more substantial posts after this, so dontcha worry. It's just that my mind insists on writing this lousy blog post right now, and I succumbed to it, of course. What do you expect? It's almost like intellectual defecation, only the ideas to be written aren't always that bad.


During church service earlier, while our pastor was retelling the story of Hosea and Gomer, a story idea of something parallel popped in my head like a bubble in the murky pond, except that it didn't disappear right away. It sat there, lingering in the right side of my brain. At the back of my mind, I was battling over writing it as a novel or as a short story. Whichever, I shall leave the story under the Lord's ballpoint. I had been so excited since then, seeing a potential literary piece for the Christian community, I could've started scribbling ideas right away had our pastor not moved on to the next point of his sermon. If ever I finish the story in my head, I promise to post it on this blog for special people like you to read.

For now, as I finish this lousy post, allow me to post an equally lousy quad selfie just because.

Hurray for a new storyyyy. :)) I am a webcamtoy model!

xoxo, A

A Stranger's Goodbye

He wasn't there when I passed by their tiny shack this afternoon. He wasn't mending jeans on his old, rusty sewing machine by their door. He wasn't shoving his wrinkled face to rolls of cloth because his eyes were almost clouded by a sheer gray coat. An ash-gray cat slithered through the narrow opening of the door. He wasn't there this time.

My feet, seeming to have a mind of their own, started to shuffle into a slower pace as they neared his home. I couldn't see his bald head poking through his window. I couldn't hear the rhythm of the running sewing machine, nor the snipping of his bulky scissors. I saw several people instead, seated around plastic tables, exchanging drinks and decks of cards. I heard their controlled laughter over candies, peanuts, and bottles of beer. There was no old man, however. I had almost waited for him to step out his small door with cups of coffee on a plastic tray. I had almost waited to catch a glimpse of his silver hair that scarcely covered his head, but my eyes stopped on a bushful of ugly flowers at the center of his house. Dull colors were surrounded by splotchy ferns. My heart skipped a beat, but my gaze insisted on panning to the right, where a blow-up photo of him was displayed on top of a box he probably had never seen before.

My mind raced into a series of what-ifs. What if I had sought him to tailor my school uniform - the one I wear almost everyday. Would he be a part of me then? What if I had bought from him the unattractive cupcakes they sparingly displayed on a glass shelf outside their house. Would he have grazed my being like the cupcakes could have?

Like a turning disc on a broken player, images of the past present themselves to me episodically - the way I sympathetically smiled to myself whenever I saw his frail old body rocking along to the rhythm of his sewing just to make ends meet, and the way I nodded in gladness when they finally improved their home with several planks of wood, cans of paint, and a cheap but better roof. The replaying of the images stopped abruptly when a drunk man's cajoling voice rang in my ears.

My feet continued on, without any plans of stopping. My chest sucked the details I had noticed for years. He wouldn't be in that tiny shack anymore. He wouldn't be mending jeans on his old, rusty sewing machine by their door. He would no longer be shoving his wrinkled face to rolls of cloth. An ash-gray cat slithered back into the house through the narrow opening of the door. He wasn't there this time, and he would no longer be there whenever I'd pass by.