Crying Out to be Gawked at

“Somebody should really wash all this stuff.” That’s a note I remember from almost 34 years ago, when Murray and I lived in our first apartment on Willow Way. I was pawing through the dirty clothes one day and found a braille note left in there for me. Another Day I found a card taped to a light switch saying: “This is art. It’s crying out to be gawked at.”

Over the years, I’ve found many others from Murray, in my lunch and in other more unexpected places. He often wrote out words to songs for me—such as one about how everything that’s happening is happening at the zoo—and other sweetie notes.

When I was working, the kids were smart and knew that the best place to leave a note for me was taped to the coffee pot. That was the first place I’d go in the morning, even before I took a shower. Rebecca often left me messages, usually telling me to wake her up either before or after my shower, depending on how late she had stayed up and how much studying she still needed to do.

A note from Sarah warned me not to go into the girls’ room that morning. They’d been up late the night before, putting their new bunk bed together, and it was still sticking out in the middle of the room. That must have been before Murray asked me to stop waking everybody up to say good-bye before I left.

Many of these notes I now find in my Bible, especially Rebecca’s coffee pot notes, because I’d sit down and read my Bible while I drank my coffee. I’d slip the notes into the page I was reading from that day. Now they’re a nice surprise when I read those chapters again.

Most of Rebecca’s notes ask me to wake her up, usually with “please!!!” included, sometimes a threat of what she’ll do to me if I don’t get her up on time. A note from Caleb lets me know he was leaving early for work before any of the rest of us got up, because he was filling in for “a dude.”

I love finding these as I’m reading my Bible, but I know there are many more of these treasures packed away in other places. I look forward to finding them someday, and I don’t think about it often, so it will be a surprise and a joy when I do. And it will always be art, crying out to be gawked at.


Kathy McKinsey grew up on a pig farm in Missouri, and although she’s lived in cities for 40-something years, she still considers herself a farm girl.

She’s been married to Murray for 34 years, and they have five adult children.

Kathy had two careers before writing—stay-at-home-Mom and rehabilitation teacher for the blind.

She lives in Lakewood, Ohio with her husband and one of their children. Besides writing, she enjoys activities with her church, editing for other writers, braille transcribing, crocheting, knitting, and playing with their rambunctious cat.

Kathy is the author of

Gifts of Grace: On Amazon

All My Tears: On Amazon

Millie’s Christmas: On Amazon