I believe in the sun even when it is not shining, I believe in love even when I cannot feel it, I believe in god even when he is silent -written on cellar wall during holocaust
10×19 SIGN
(BLACK LETTERING ON WOOD)
Laura B. (★★★★)
Beautiful and well-made. Looks great in my kitchen.
Penny O. (★★★★★)
Cute sign. The print is slightly smaller than I had imagined, and there is no picture hanger on the back so I will need to add one, but I love the quote, and the gunstock stain that I chose is very lightly applied, which I’m happy about. Looks wonderful!
Lisa M. (★★★★★)
This quote has been special to me since I saw it in the hospital gift shop while dad was having a heart procedure. It really hit home, and this company did a great job putting it on a sign.
Jeannette M. (★★★★★)
So inspiring! Saw this for the first time at a Holiday Inn in Cincinnati. 15 years ago, maybe? Husband and I were visiting for his family reunion. Remember chatting with a lady by the elevator about unseasonable cold. She was from Kentucky and also going to family reunion as it turned out. Very put off by the October chill. Gray. Icy. Anyway, the sign was next to the elevator. How nice, I thought. Felt grateful for all I had. Woman found it disturbing, however. Twisted up her mouth like she’d tasted something bad. She didn’t want to think about some dead person on her vacation, she said. No, thank you. Urged her to consider it from a different angle. Hope, I said. Even in darkest of times. Meh, said the woman, and we got on the elevator. Haven’t thought about that since I saw the sign on your site and clicked order right away.
Mel C. (★★★)
Nice quality of material.
Sandra B. (★★★★)
Love it! Arrived before Christmas, and I ordered late.
Jeannette M. (★★★★★)
Feel I should elaborate on my previous review. Didn’t lie or anything, but wasn’t completely truthful. When I mentioned my husband, I meant my husband at the time. Till very recently actually. As it turns out, we’re getting divorced. Yeah, not my idea. Very sudden. Been a good ride though. Can’t complain. House. Car. Adirondack vacations. Much to be grateful for. But very sudden. Did I say that already? Like completely out of the blue.
Sign is still awesome. When I’m down about the divorce, I look at it above the sink and feel 100% better. Thanks again.
Rachel A. (★★★★)
Gave this item as a gift. Very cute. Some of the words were smeared just a bit, but shipping was quick.
Grace L (★★★)
Would order again
Jeannette M. (★★★★★)
Last night felt down and went to JCPenney in Ann Arbor. Bought cranberry blouse. Very nice. Bit on the expensive side. But my color. Couldn’t stop thinking of Tom and the whole divorce thing. Instead of the man leaving home like usual, Tom thought I should leave. His labor paid for everything, he said, including the house. Didn’t protest, even though this isn’t completely true. (I’ve worked 29 years at the front desk of Dr. Bonine’s dental practice. Guess whose “almost nominal contribution to household expenses” got us through the crash of 2008?) Moved into Cindy, an old friend’s, basement apartment. Cindy has her own life, mostly consisting of visits from adult children and grandchildren (husband passed away 12 years ago). Don’t want to bother her, so I keep to myself, staying downstairs mostly.
Anyway, looked at myself in the mirror at Penney and felt lonely. Almost cried. “I believe in the sun,” I told myself, “even when it is not shining. I believe in love,” etc. etc. Clouds did not part, so to speak. It was like I was looking at myself for the first time in thirty years. Gray hair. Sagging boobs. Rolls of fat visible under shirt. Saw my whole life in that mirror. Everything I’d done. Everywhere I’d been. Now I was here. I was…this.
As I squinted into the bright lights of the JCPenney dressing room, my reflection seemed to speak. Who are you? it said. Who is this tired old lady so rudely ejected from her life?
Sandy L. (★★★★★)
Alexis P. (★★★★)
Jeannette M. (★★★★★)
Tom’s acting strange. Won’t answer my calls. Only speaking through his lawyer. Still, much to look forward to. Go to work in the morning with a smile on my face and come back to the basement unit. Yesterday I went upstairs to offer Cindy cup of tea. She was out at the movies with Daisy and Jasper, two of her grandchildren. A full life, Cindy has. Very jealous, if being honest. Underneath jealousy, searing pain.
Watched TV. Had another cup of chamomile tea. Listened to Norman and Bob, Cindy’s two cocker spaniels, run back and forth on the wooden floor upstairs, barking occasionally. Decided I should go to Tom’s (formerly our) house. Told myself I had to get some things, but knew I just wanted to see him.
Tom opened the door with a smile. Hadn’t seen that for awhile. Thought he was going to spread his arms and welcome me home. Beg me to take him back, etc. When he realized who it was, his smile disappeared. What did I want? he asked. Felt so hurt, I couldn’t respond at first. I needed to get some earrings I left in the half bath cabinet, I said. Fine, he said. He’d be in the living room. Got the earrings and came out. Tried to make conversation. Tom kept peeking at his watch. A couple minutes went by. He seemed nervous, looking out the window several times like he was expecting someone. I asked about some paperwork related to the divorce. Tom said I should go. He didn’t say anything else, staring at the TV on the wall like he was trying to levitate the thing. Finally, the silence was too much and I left.
Greta C. (★★★★)
Beautiful sign. Even nicer than the picture. Fast shipping and very happy with the product.
Brook W. (★★★★★)
Fiancé really enjoyed
Jeannette M. (★★★★★)
Saw Tom and Anne Wexler at Andy’s Chinese on Center Street. They were dining al fresco, Tom spooning lo mein onto Anne’s plate with a big, sappy grin. So this was who he was waiting for the other day! Part of me wanted to scream in his face. The other part wanted to crawl into a hole and die. All I could think was, Annie?!! Was she so much better than me?! Annie’s a natural redhead with a skinny neck and a face full of freckles. She talks about as much as a man, giving her two cents like it was the word of god. Never would’ve thought she was Tom’s type.
We’ve known Anne for decades. She and Doug broke up a few years ago. After that, because we saw them as part of a group that occasionally went to dinner together, she was pretty much out of our lives. Or so I thought.
I was standing catty corner from Tom and Annie holding a foam container with my burger from Max Burger. Felt embarrassed, but couldn’t take my eyes off them. Annie wore a pink top with white pants. Looked great. She’d kept her figure, even after two kids. As I stood there, weekend traffic whizzing by, I wondered if this was why he’d chosen her. More kids were out of the question for Annie, of course. But maybe Tom found it attractive, that she’d borne two sons, Ben and Corey, the nicest boys you’d ever want to meet.
We never had children, though we’d certainly tried. One of the great disappointments of my life. Tom’s too. Though we didn’t know the reason for sure, Tom blamed me, saying the men in his family were all proud fathers and pointing to an aunt of mine, my mother’s sister, Frances, who’d been married but never conceived.
Was this it? Did Tom secretly resent me for not bearing his son?
I had to run into the parking lot of the crepe store to compose myself. There, I imagined what life would’ve been like if we’d had children. I always wanted to be a mother. I thought about bath time and long division and gently imparting moral lessons as Tom Jr. watched me with innocent eyes. I had so much love to give. Where had it all gone?
Maybe it disappeared. Poof! That was a depressing thought.
I dumped my burger in the nearest trash and headed back to the basement unit. Stood in the kitchen area with eyes closed, trying to forget about Tom and Annie. When I opened them, there was the sign, but I couldn’t read it through my tears.
Nathan L. (★★★★★)
Bought this for my boss and his wife and their new baby girl. Came out beautifully. They are going to love it!
Jeannette M. (★★★★★)
“Written on a cellar wall during Holocaust.” I’ve read these words a thousand times, but I never understood them till now. What I mean is, I only thought about the message, not about who wrote it. In fact, the way it’s phrased, it’s like the words just appeared on the cellar wall. But they didn’t just appear. Someone wrote them.
I can almost see her: a young woman in a cold, dark room. She dreams of the world outside. Who is this girl? Maybe her family was too poor to send her to college, forcing her to take a job as a secretary in a dental office. Maybe she lived with her parents into her 20s as she searched for a suitable husband, which she never thought she’d get because men seldom expressed interest in her. I picture the woman in her prison as night falls. She dreams of building a family and settling down in a nice, little house in the suburbs. She remembers riding in her father’s car as the lush fall landscape rolls past, her heart filled with awe for this beautiful world. I imagine her name was Jena or Jeannie or Jelena. I wonder what kind of tea she preferred. I wonder if she had a pet, a big, lethargic tabby maybe, or a favorite color. Was there a place she liked to sit and watch the sun set? A song she sang on happier days?
Jeannette M. (★★★★★)
Tom called. “I saw you staring at us the other night,” he said. “What the hell were you doing, Jeannette?” I almost died. “News flash!” he yelled. “We’re getting divorced. It’s none of your business what I do!” I didn’t want Tom to know I was crying, so I didn’t say anything. A moment passed. Tom cleared his throat and said he wasn’t phoning because of the other night. This was a courtesy call. He was going to stop paying my rent at Cindy’s.
It felt like the floor dropped out from under me. “What am I going to do!?” I blubbered. Tom groaned. “Will you stop being dramatic?” he said. His lawyer told him it was best to arrange spousal support through the courts, not informally like we’d been doing. He said I had my own income and shouldn’t worry. We’d figure it out. Then he said he had to go.
Jeannette M. (★★★★★)
After talking to Tom, I went upstairs and knocked on Cindy’s door. She opened up but didn’t invite me in. “I have to pick up Todd and Aaron from baseball practice,” she said. “What’s the matter?” I told her about Tom and Annie. She looked impatient. Like she was waiting for me to get to the point. That was when I realized. “Oh, god!” I said. “You knew!” Cindy looked past me into the street. “Oh, god!” I said again. “How long has it been going on?!” She turned so I couldn’t see her eyes, which seemed to indicate a long time, months, maybe even years, certainly stretching back before the divorce. I burst into tears. Cindy watched the ground, waiting for me to finish. “I’m sorry, Jeannette,” she said, but there was no sorry in her voice. Then she shrugged like what did I want from her? I didn’t know. “I have to pick up the boys,” she finally said, guiding me from the doorway. She locked the front door, leaving me on the steps as she got in her car and drove away.
Jeannette M. (★★★★★)
There’s a guy at Dr. Bonine’s, a kid named Dave, the office manager. Dave doesn’t like me. He’s always complaining about my work. In front of patients. It’s embarrassing. I answer phones and greet people and enter info in our database, not to mention book new appointments, and plenty besides. It can get hectic, especially during the summer, and my concentration is poor because of the divorce. Today, Dave ran up waving some paperwork that was filled out incorrectly. Was I going to do my job or was he going to have to do it for me? he yelled. The waiting room got quiet. Everyone stared. I looked into those faces filled with pity and embarrassment and my mind went blank.
“Jeannette!?” said Dave, waving his hand in my face. I’d been staring into space like a zombie. He looked at me like I’d gone nuts. I turned to the people in the waiting room, who wore similar expressions. “Excuse me,” I said and ran straight to the restroom, refusing to come out for half an hour.
Later, I met with Dr. Bonine, who asked what was going on. I didn’t tell him about Tom or the divorce. I just said I was okay. Dr. Bonine looked skeptical. He said I was going through a rough patch. I should take some time off, maybe a week or two. His niece, who was on summer vacation from college, could fill in.
“No!” I said. “I’m fine! I’m FIIIINNNNE!”
I was shouting, my voice rising to a note of panic at the end, making it clear to Dr. Bonine I was anything but okay.
Jeannette M. (★★★★★)
A few days in a row, I’ve been driving by Tom’s house. Don’t ask me why. I keep my eyes on the road. Don’t look, I tell myself. It’s time to move on. Today, I looked. Tom was on the front porch. He stood on a kitchen chair taking down the chain that ran from the ceiling to the swing. I remembered getting the swing after we moved in, May ’87 I think it was. I saw it one afternoon in the antique shop on State. It was white with hearts carved into the seats. So romantic, I thought. Tom preferred the couch, where he could watch football and baseball and golf. But I made him join me on the swing for sunsets and sweet tea. Sometimes I’d lay my head on his shoulder and listen to the crickets. It’d been years since I used it, maybe decades. The paint was cracked and the chain was rusty. Still, it broke my heart to see Tom taking it down. The final nail in the coffin of our marriage, I thought, and stopped the car.
I got out and walked toward the porch. I don’t know what I was thinking. Nothing really. I was sort of hypnotized. When I got close, Tom turned in surprise. “Don’t get angry,” I begged. “Jeannette,” he said. “What are you doing here?” “I don’t know,” I said. “Well, if you don’t mind,” said Tom, “I’m busy.” I lowered my head. Out came the tears. “Oh, for god’s sake!” he hissed. I cried harder. Tom came down off the porch shaking his head. “I’m sorry!” I called. “I don’t know why I’m here. I drove by and saw you taking down the swing, and I just…” A sob burst from my lips. Then several more. I fell to my knees on the lawn, weeping shamefully. “Jeannette,” said Tom like he was talking to a child. “You need to get ahold of yourself.” Tears poured down my cheeks. “Why?!” I moaned. “Why?!” Meaning, why was he divorcing me? I hadn’t planned on this outburst; it just happened. “Is it,” I blubbered, “because you don’t love me anymore?” The question seemed to surprise him. Tom put his hands on his hips, his eyes getting thoughtful and distant. He sighed and looked at me a second. “No,” he said. “I don’t.” “Oh, god!” I shrieked, a fresh round of tears pouring from my eyes. A car pulled into the driveway. I heard the door shut. “Jeannette?” said Annie, running over. “Tom, what’s going on?” “Nothing,” Tom grumbled. “Jeannette, are you alright?” asked Annie. Here was my rival showing concern for poor little me. Because I was beaten and no longer posed a threat. Under the grass, I could see an ant hill with ants coming and going. Those ants had a home, I thought, but I no longer did. “Tom doesn’t love me anymore,” I said. “He won’t tell me why.” “Oh, my,” said Annie. “I’m so sorry, Jeannette.” There was awkward silence as we stood there, none of us knowing what to do. “Tom,” said Annie finally, “I think you need to talk to Jeannette.” Tom nodded reluctantly. I’d never seen him whipped like this.
Annie went into the house. Tom stood there pressing his palms together and shifting his weight from foot to foot like he did when he was nervous. “Okay, okay,” he repeated, watching me from the corner of his eye. He took a breath and stared into space. “I’ve been working on my feelings,” he finally said. “Your feelings?” I was skeptical. I didn’t know Tom had feelings. This had to be something Annie had cooked up. I felt hurt and jealous Tom had discovered his emotional depth in my absence. “My feelings,” Tom insisted, “and being honest with myself about them. So, I’m going to be honest with you, Jeannette, as honest as I can be.” “Okay,” I said in a shaky voice. I wondered whether it was the truth I wanted to hear or something a little more comforting. Tom paused and took another breath. He looked at me a moment. “I got scared,” he said, which shocked me because Tom was never scared in his life. “I felt alone in our marriage, and it scared me.” “Alone!?” I said. “We were together 35 years!” Tom looked down, shaking his head sadly. “We hardly talked anymore,” he said. “We ate alone. We slept in separate beds. We were roommates, not partners. The truth is, I needed things you couldn’t give me. Understanding, mainly.” “Understanding,” I repeated. He had me there. I’d never understood anything Tom said or did. Because of this, I was terrified of him, which gave him total control of the marriage and now the divorce. “I needed to find someone who understood me. Can you get that? I needed to go out and meet people and try new things and have conversations about important topics. Like politics and is there an afterlife? Like, do we have a soul? I don’t know,” he said, raising his arms in frustration. “Bottom line, Jeannette: I couldn’t stand to spend another night on that couch wondering what if.” I looked helplessly at Tom. “I thought everything was good,” I whimpered. “I thought we were happy.” He shook his head. “No, Jeannette. I wasn’t happy. But I think I deserve to be. I think everyone deserves that. I hope you can be happy. I really do. I’m sorry things turned out how they turned out, but we’re both responsible for that. Now, I think you should go.”
What could I say? I pushed the tears from my eyes. I picked myself up and dusted myself off and got back in the Camry, driving off with the neighbors all watching from their houses.
Jeannette M. (★★★★★)
Later that week, a package arrived at the basement unit. Inside was a handwritten note from Anne.
Dear Jeannette,
I never intended to hurt you. I hope you’ll believe me. The truth is, the heart wants what it wants, and it cannot be reasoned with.
With regard to the other day, I feel terrible. Doug and I had a bad split, and I understand the emotions involved. Divorce is rough, and it’s easy to lose hope. Please know, it’s not the end of the world, but the beginning. A new day will rise, you’ll see.
With this in mind, I have enclosed a gift. I hope you’ll accept it in the spirit in which it is given. I have one myself, and it never fails to lift my mood. I pray it can do the same for you.
Warmly,
Annie
I unwrapped the package. It was a framed sign with the words I knew by heart: I believe in the sun, I believe in love, etc.
I think about love a lot these days. How it’s supposed to define our lives, the love we give and the love we receive. I no longer have anyone to talk to. No one to tell about my day. No one to hug or kiss or say goodnight to. No one to love. Do I exist anymore? I often ask.
I think about god, too. Mostly, I think about His silence. Maybe that’s what He is, a silence running through every part of our lives. In that case, what does it matter what we believe? If He exists, He exists. Real as a cloud in the sky. Real as the ground under our feet. We don’t have to believe in the ground to walk on it, right?
Does this prove the sign right or wrong? Does it mean I believe in god or not? Not sure. But I do know one thing: I had faith in Tom. Two things actually: I had faith in our marriage.
In the evenings, I stand in the kitchen watching the sign like a star in the sky. I look out the window, where darkness fills a widow’s lawn. A firefly burns in the tall grass. A silver moon rises in the east.
What do I believe? I wonder. What do I really believe?
Adam Fagin is the author of Furthest Ecology from the Center for Literary Publishing at Colorado State University. He lives and works in North Carolina.