Full Circle Story – JodySusanWrites

In 1861, the year the United States went to war against itself, a barn was built in Wabash, Indiana. Wabash Importing Co. My grandparents bought it in 1960, and by the time I came along in 1976, it had become weathered and worn. Our family took a lot of trips back and forth across the country in a two-toned, blue Econoline van. We saw lots of sites, but this barn was my very favorite monument. Every family trip from St. Louis, Missouri back to my mom's rural hometown of Wabash, Indiana, culminated in a contest:To be first to see the barn. It stood by the road. The siding seemed bent on displaying the law of gravity. Some said it was an eyesore, but the more my grandparents' barn fell apart, the more beloved it became to me. People were endlessly looking for ways to get it fixed up, so it would look better. In that sense, I felt like we had a lot in common, that barn and me. Pressures to be pretty and popular made school a scary place for me. That barn became my safe space, where I did all sorts of dangerous things, such as: Leaping over broken planks, or the spots they'd disappeared altogether Staring through holes those missing boards left behind, down to the stone floor on the lower level Climbing a ladder of skinny, rickety corn crib slats - barely able to stick my sneakers in the space between Awed by vaulted rafters high above hand-hewn beams Admonishing myself, "Don't look down. Don't look down." Peeking Regretting Gripping tighter Perspiring from every pore Scared to go up Terrified to go down Horrified to appear afraid Stretching fingers toward another wooden rung Feeling nothing to hold Inhaling hard Pulling my body across boards covered by decades of dust and bird dirt Army crawling onto a loft with no rails Dusting filthy palms upon my shirt Realizing I'd just made more laundry Knowing Grandma Woody wasn't going to like that Sighing Stepping forward, knees trembling Toes to the ledge, a balcony with no barrier Sensing a strange mix of terror and elation shoot through my core, down my shins, and towards my fingertips Reaching into the atmosphere high above the threshing floor Hearing the words so often repeated by the adults, "You kids be careful around that barn!" ring through my ears Realizing I was being too careful Inching closer to the edge Again, "You kids be careful around that barn!" Quivering Again, "You kids be careful around that barn!" Breathing Calculating Hearing my cousins down below, "Come on! Let's Go!" Trying to pretend not to be terrified Regretting, my ascent Dreading my decent "C'mon, don't be scared!" Scared they'd know I was a coward Lying Denying fear Wanting to fit in - to not be seen as a city-slicker Leaning Trembling Taking hold of the rope: scratchy, seemingly ancient, suspended by beams high above my head Questioning silently, "Who tied this? When? How did they get a rope all the way up there? What if it breaks? Why am I doing this?" Determining not to think Stepping off the edge Dropping A jolt Swinging through the air Hanging Thinking, "That hay is too far away!" Holding tighter to the rope Dangling Losing strength Gathering courage Loosening my grip Falling through the air Feeling my stomach leap into my throat as wind swept past my ears Buckling at my knees Collapsing in a heap Surviving Thanking Grandpa Woody (in my head) for happening to store that haystack right there beneath the rope Brushing off dirt and debris Rejoicing Weighing whether to do it again, or go back to the house Forgetting all about the previous five minutes Making another climb Living to tell about it Brushing myself off Dragging straw into Grandma Woody's well-swept house despite trying not to Seeing Grandpa Woody Grinning I hoped that barn could always be a place I could come to, but that isn't the way things turned out. I'd like to tell you the story of that barn I was at a funeral a few years ago, when someone said to me, "Can you believe it? That barn is like a full circle story?" She was beaming, and I smiled back, glad for her joy; but absolutely broken-hearted for myself, and wanting desperately to hide that hurt. In 2019, I set out to write the story of my grandparent's barn. What began as one book has spiraled into a series. The process wasn't pretty (I about electrocuted myself sobbing over the keyboard). I'm grateful to know God has all my tears stored. What's more, He's taken the broken pieces of dreams I had for that beloved barn and made them into something beautiful. I'd like to tell you how that happened and what the Lord did in my heart during the process. My website is right in the middle of reconstruction right now, so if you'd like to read more, please subscribe, so I can let you know when things look more spruced up, and when my books begin coming out. Thanks for reading what I'm writing, Jody Susan Please Click to Subscribe