NO MORE TEA IN THE KETTLE

-Betty J. Williams All rights reserved 1991 copyright 2005©

Francis sat motionlessly on the icy steps of the old house, once occupied by his grandmother. His deep blue eyes mingled with the tears and emotions of what he was feeling deep within. He recalled the aroma of tea brewing on the old Pot Belly stove while they sat chatting endlessly together. Where had the time gone, he asked himself, struggling to avoid the answer that was so obvious.

“Now, Francis, tell grandmother all about it, she would appeal, and always remember to pray.’ Then she would pour more tea and smile, Francis recalled. Grandmother was a small frame woman. Her sturdy built gave the appearance of wholeness that added richness to her wrinkleless face! “Remember to include God in all your doings Francis, its trouble without him,” she forewarned. However, he did not heed her warnings, nor did he pray as he should. For to him eternity was forever and ever was never too late. Besides, when trouble came she would be there with open arms. He could always count on his lovely, lovely grandmother.

“Come and visit with grandmother more often,” she reminded him in that delightful way she had. “Okay I will,” Francis promised. Visits with her always left him refreshed and all aglow inside. What a wonderful person she was indeed. He was fortunate to have her, he thought. “Come over for tea, and visit with the old girl, she would say.

Francis recalled the Christmas Dad had gotten laid off from work. There was no extra money to buy gifts. “Don’t let the tea kettle get empty without you. Come over, there is enough for us all.” Grandmother invited.

When the family arrived at her house, she was all aglow as usual. Her tiny house scented with the aroma of spice and love. “Come sit around the tree,” she directed. Beneath the dimly lit tree were gifts for everyone. “Oh grandmother, you think of everything, exclaimed Frances.” “Now there Francis, lets save the glory for God, she reminded. Now fill the kettle.”

And as time passed Francis grew and became a young man. Frequent visits to grandmother did not seem as necessary to him. A man must explore new horizons; besides eternity is forever and ever is a longtime. I can always visit Grandmother tomorrow he would procrastinate. She will be there for me. After all she is my grandma.

On the afternoon of his senior graduation, Francis busied himself with the excitement of his new friends. Grandmother phoned, “Let’s have our own celebration, haven’t seen my tiger for some time,” she jested. “I’ll try Grandmother, but I already promised the guys I’d be at the party in a half hour. Maybe another time we’ll have tea, he rushed.’

Suddenly the chills from the icy pavement where he sat rushed up his back colliding with his shivering thoughts, exposing the cold reality that cried from the depths of his soul!“ Oh Grandmother, Francis wept bitterly, it is tomorrow and I can’t remember how to pray. ”

Desperately grasping for thoughts to warm his inner soul, Francis began again to elapse into the past remembering his beautiful grandmother. Moreover, the news of that horrible night revived the chill once more. “Francis, mother stammered on the phone, where have you been. We have been trying desperately to reach you.

“Mother, Francis interrupted, I am in a lot of trouble. The fellas in my fraternity pulled a prank that has gotten us into hot water, with the dean. But if you’ll just call Grandmother, she’ll know what to do.” “Oh Francis, mother sobbed, your Grandmother is gone… she is gone honey. Francis, Oh my son she has died.”

Swish, swish the cold wind brushed against the young man’s face, causing reality to return.” My sweet, sweet Grandmother, Francis whispered softly. Tomorrow has come and eternity has passed and there is no more tea in the kettle.”

Francis arose from the steps and peered into the window of the curtain less door of the tiny kitchen. Though the door he could see the little oak table where he and grandmother often sat sipping tea. On the surface of the table, he saw what appeared to be an envelope. I must know what it says he thought. Pressing against the door, he was curiously determined to explore its contents. “Squeak, squeak,” cried the old wooden door. However, he refused its cries. Slowly it opened.

Inside, Francis could smell the faintness of cinnamon. He looked all about the room searching for memories. It seemed ages since he had last been in the tiny kitchen. Each step distanced an eternity. Slowly the young man approached the table. He picked up the envelope, on it was written: To the spice of my life. Immediately his eyes refilled with tears. This time they were tears of joy. Quickly he opened the tiny note and began to read its scribbled writing.

Thank you Francis for all the teas we have shared; Thank you for all the chances to show you how much I cared. And for the times you could not be here to meet with me, I sat in remembrance, sipping tea.

Francis looked up to see the hands on the old clock noting it was just about time for supper. As he rambled though the closet, he uncovered an old teapot and filled it with water. “Oh Grandmother, Francis yelped I think I am still in time for tea!”

I must work the works of Him that sent me, while it is day the night cometh, when no man can work. John 9:4 (KJV)