Diggin' In The Devil's Toolbox

Have you ever been caught in the middle of "without?" The thick, bitter taste of need is hard to forget. When you're in the middle of nowhere, and you're without, that's where Hell is, and the Devil reigns.

If you're there, you might ask "Is this all there is?"

Maybe... unless you've got the secret; that magical gift of the Devil's Toolbox.

It's easily left behind; an empty, forgotten, useless rusty box. As a nation, we had it, but we went to Iraq without it. The Devil's Defense against the Toolbox is naivete. We were loaded with it, and little else. It's Hell's trick to make you think you're good enough, as is.

"It's nothing, you can handle it, go quickly!" Hell whispers.

All the while, the Devil loads up on Misery and Despair, his Commanders In Chief. THEY are always ready. They never sleep. Despair is skilled and Misery is masterful at sucking up all the fresh air. Like a vacuum in the universe, Hell takes life. It doesn't have to, but it will, if we are unprepared. The Devil knows no hesitation.

What would be in the Devil's Toolbox?

I spent my early life finding out. I may not be the brightest lightbulb in the box, but I've found that learning from others is cheaper than learning from your own Hell. Hell's Army is vast and quick.

If we're smart, we won't have to fight all of them at once. Let's dig around in the toolbox and see what we discover.

1. Faith

Believe in another, believe in yourself, believe in something. Faith is the light in the night. It's the energy to act. Instead of being smothered with Despair, move. With the air that motion stirs, move again. With each motion, the light of faith glows brighter still.

When my mother was enveloped in the blinding darkness, she faltered. Hell inched closer. She fought the misery of not seeing with every breath in her body. She couldn't move, she couldn't sleep, she couldn't do anything the way she once did. When she put toothpaste on her toothbrush, it dropped to the sink. During dinner, once she finally stabbed the meat with her fork, it fell to the plate before making it to her mouth. Spoons spilled their soup, green peas rolled clumsily onto the table. The bite of mouth on empty eating utensils was sharp and painful. For her, patience was lost and Hell became the thief who stole her appetite.

For all of us, life stopped and we didn't know how to re-create it. Finally, Mom did it herself. After much struggling, she realized blindness was here to stay. Without even letting that soak in, she called out for help, accepting it in the form of a four-legged pair of eyes. Bonny-the-guide-dog, gave her Faith. Mom "could" again. She had pushed away "without."

The Devil stepped back.

2. Walk In A Parade

The Devil loves Loneliness. Why give it to him to use against us? If there's not a parade nearby, start one. Create a crowd of good, and surround yourself in it. Good shreds the very soul of Hell.

Mom was alone, and it's bitter taste made her sick. Again, we tried to help. I gave her all a 13 - 16 year old could. Turning life to words, I surrounded her with sound. It helped, but I was one. She needed the parade, the connections that would build a strong chain of protection.

Once more, she did it herself. The only blind woman with a dog, she walked the campus of a nearby college, attending classes in every subject she could take. April 4th, 1968, the day of the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr, was a day the Devil called. Formerly highly interested in government, and carrying a history of a top secret clearance in the space program, Mom contrasted it all with a knack for being politically incorrect. She was fond of saying "America faced it's problems with ballots not bullets."

One day, in a huge Government lecture class, Mom was listening to the professor criticize America. When she entered a class, she loved to walk to the front, take her seat, all without causing a stir, of course. If you were used to seeing a bit of Heaven walk through the door, dressed to kill and walking with a black labrador guide dog, it was no big deal.

Mom's super senses allowed her to hear the other student's restless stirring as the professor described the ugliness of our nation. Well, no one found favor with assassination. Within moments, Mom had heard all the criticism of America she could take. It was our nation, right or wrong, and we could cure its ails without damning the country as a whole. She stood up.

"Bonny!" she commanded in a loud and firm voice. "Outside!" Bonny marched, mom followed. The crowd murmured. The professor called out "M'am! Your dog is not bothering me."

Uh-O, Mom don't. But, she did. "No," she replied, sweetly, half turning in his direction without breaking stride. "But, you're bothering HER."

The crowd roared. Mom scooted quickly out the door, and stopping at the bench under the flag pole, she sat. To her surprise, many students were right behind her. Sitting down on the grass, they made an impressive half circle. "How, Why?" they asked. What could be done, to make wrongs right?

She talked at length about exercising our voice, letting the courts handle wrong actions, staying true to your values regardless of the actions of another. Light had pierced where the Devil lives, and through the faith she exercised, Life was coming back. This small, petite, fortyish blind woman had captivated an audience of attentive 18+ year old kids who wanted to know why Hell had landed so harshly in the land of the free.

When I came to get her, I wove my way through 52 students who were leaning in, hanging on the wisdom from a lady who knew Hell, and wasn't too afraid of the Devil. Or if she was, he was not allowed to see it.

"That's my mom," I said with some pride. I stepped over feet and hands, and Mom stood up. Bonny was at attention, and we moved towards the car. "Mom, what's this? Did you shoot the teacher or what?" Of course I was kidding, sorta.

Mom giggled, and turned to the kids as we made our way to the car "There'll be a pop quiz on Friday." We left. Mom was involved; she had her parade.

The Devil was slammed to the rear.

3. History

We don't want to dwell on the past, but we do want to draw from it. How can we get to where we're going, if we don't know where we've been? History is a connection the Devil hates. It's wisdom and light; the voice of yesterday that teaches. Drag it out of the toolbox often enough to make sure you're not repeating it.

4. Contain Misery

Misery comes in all sizes and colors, something for everyone. When it hits you, it seems larger than anything you've got. When that happens, put it in a box. It won't stay there, but putting it in the box allows you a brief respite. Everytime it rears it's ugly head, you can chop it off and pack it away again. Soon, it will be unrecognizeable and may even melt away.

How do you box it up?

5. Humor

Mom's days were dull. She recoiled from Braille as if it were the plague. She couldn't read, books on record were few and boring, I was in school, Dad was at work; the seconds of life ticked loudly in her ears. Some evenings were occupied with shelling peas at the farm down the road, but Mom wanted more. She had spent years reading the Congressional Record and writing letters to the editor about which senator had voted on what bill. Many senators had rather she didn't, but that just spurred her on. Now, she was in the middle of nowhere: boredom, the Devil's workroom.

So, pick up the next tool and combine it with Containing Misery through the use of Humor and you've got a combustible engine purring.

6. Contain Misery with Humor and Cop An Attitude

If Misery and Despair suffocate, Mom's attitude pushed life back into the lungs. Her demeanor was wrapped up in a cute and sassy package, and she loved to pop out of it's confinement in public. Give her an audience and she was in command. As her shopping turn-life-into-words-companion, I had a front row seat in the current drama.

A mild form of Hell for me, was a shopping trip for mom. You had to appreciate the fact that sometimes, the Devil just sprinkles the salt of Hell on you. One shouldn't tempt the Devil, but I have to confess that we played around with Evil once in a while, just to keep him alert.

"Mom, this blouse is deep red."

"Oh? It doesn't feel red." she said increduously, as she ran her fingers over the fabric.

Folding my arms and stiffening my back for battle, I would reply "No? Just what color does it feel, Mom?" You had to be 16 to understand the embarassment.

"Well, if you were blind, you would know it's too stiff to be red. It feels yellow." She was trying to be patient with the ignorance of sighted people.

"Mom, the blouse is R E D." I stated emphatically, very maturely deciding not to roll my eyes in front of the nearby clerk, who looked shocked, by the way.

Pausing for effect, loving the stage and drama of the moment, mom would ask innocently and child like "Are you sure it's red, Marisue?"

Leaning in to whisper violently in her ear, I said "I know my colors, Mom."

Mom, suddenly uninterested in the garment, would shrug her shoulders and say "Well, of course you're right, dear. Let's look at underwear."

The whole scene was a joke, a necessary game designed to bore the Hell out of Misery, and put the Devil to sleep. I knew it, and played it well, after a few shopping trips for practice. The clerk had no clue, but was sacrificed for the sake of the game.

We had arrived. Humor was the box that held the Misery, that wrote the History which then created the Parade of Good Connections, where Faith became the light of the night.

The Devil now had his ass kicked, if you'll pardon the expression.

7. Acceptance

Knowing what you can't change and accepting it with Humor triggers Faith. Then, darkness of day and night to merge into a constant battle of Misery vs. Defiance. The ocean of Hell rages and threatens to drown every one of us with its grim reality and shock.

Mom was not prepared when Hell claimed a piece of her. As a 12 year old, I walked on a path that took me places I had never been and knew nothing about. Sometimes, we were just lost. It was war. Heaven's Army gave us resistance, but it didn't come lightly, and was a painful gain.

There is no romance in loss. We attempt to cover it's pain in a blanket of humor, and it helps. Still, the slicing effect of heartache knocks you to your knees. We can read about it, and feel a kinship with another, but until you are rocking and rolling to your own agonizing symphony of Hell's music, the dance with the Devil has no real impact.

It is far different to observe and help someone tangled in Hell, than to be the one needing the help. Once you need it, the help you give to others changes forever. Many of those who've not felt Hell's Icy Grip, or looked into the Eye of Hell, give with expectations of return. Those who have experience with the Devil's Army, give with understanding, expecting nothing.

Having been hungry for a brief time in my life and not knowing about tomorrow, I responded deeply to a church food drive. We thought we had enough and gave several bags of canned goods, yet we were really not sure how we would make it through the next weeks. I'm not bragging. The memory of hunger pains pushed me to give. I'm not a saint.

As I collected food from the people on my list, I was appalled by the gift of 2 cans of green beans from a house of plenty. 4 bedrooms, 2.5 baths, and a big new car in the driveway, setting off the beautifully manicured lawn yielded 2 cans of green beans.

Hell had not visited or made an impression on that house, but the Devil is patient and he waits.

Mom knew Hell's impact. She knew many others had a deeper understanding than hers. She was grateful for her blessings. Giving public talks, attitude and all, she flourished in the last days of life. One talk, at a high school auditorium, was particularly memorable. One teen asked "M'am, can we ask you anything?"

"You can. I may not answer, but you can ask." Mom had charmed the crowd and they loved her.

"If you could choose what sense to lose, would you have chosen another and kept your eyesight?" How astutely teens touch the heart of life.

Mom paused. "Some people think I've already lost all my senses." she quipped. "But, to answer your question, I need to tell you that it is very keen of you to ask something that was my own question many times. Why my sight? Why not my hearing? The answer came to me, that of all to lose, maybe this was the right one, if there can be a right one. I see with my mind, and the voice of my daughter. I care and hear with the strength of my husband. I walk with the blessings of Bonny and God. I touch and taste all that nature has in abundance. I am a blessed woman. I have no loss of sight."

The Devil dissolved.

I keep a full Devil's Toolbox by my side. It carries the wisdom of yesterday.

I am Marisue, and I write.