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The rest of the story: Parable of the tent lady

Parable of the tent lady
Those of you who responded – your parables are wonderful! The Lord is beautifully creative in you – I, for one, saw Jesus as I read them. I hope you read them all. Now, as Paul Harvey says, “for the rest of the story” – the reality behind the picture. When we lived in Charlottesville, VA i…
By Seth Barnes

Those of you who responded – your parables are wonderful! The Lord is beautifully creative in you – I, for one, saw Jesus as I read them. I hope you read them all.

wheelchair tent 1

Now, as Paul Harvey says, “for the rest of the story” – the reality behind the picture. When we lived in Charlottesville, VA in the mid 80’s, we had a nice duplex a little over a mile’s bicycle ride from campus. Karen and I would take walks with our toddlers around the block.

One home in our quiet, suburban neighborhood stood out. While all the other homes were nice looking with well-manicured lawns, this one yard was overgrown and jungle-like.

Later, we learned the story. A couple used to live in a home there. One year, the husband died and the wife was left with the mortgage payments. When she was unable to keep up with them, the bank decided to repossess the house. But she refused to go and a court case ensued. When this turned nasty, the lady went off the deep end and blew up the house.

The bank gave up the case and the woman continued to live in the basement and in a station wagon parked out front during the years we lived in Charlottesville.

I was in Charlottesville a couple of months ago and, curious about how the story ended, I drove by to see what had happened. To my amazement, the woman was still there. A small tent had been pitched out front with a wheelchair next to it. I saw her in the wheelchair going down the street.

20 years had passed and, improbably, her defiance of authority and convention remained.

How many of us, like this poor, blessed, solitary woman, have made a monument of our pain and bitterness and then chosen to live in it, eventually becoming crippled and isolated by it?

I say bury the pain, forgive, and choose life.

Any thoughts? More photographic parables to follow.

 

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