Marking the River

A river courses through the land below. Watching it from the airplane window, I wonder how many times the banks have been reshaped. How many times has silt pushed together to create new land or been pushed further down the stream to deepen the path.

Life has changes. Every day is different. I start with my calendar in place, noting the events, people, places and plans. It syncs up with my map and with materials gathered to take me through the day in a productive and orderly fashion. Yet, for all of my planning there can be a series of changes, small and large that completely move the course of a day from its expected path.

Ecclesiastes three talks about moving of things in our world happening at the time of God’s choosing. I read the words and the list below, a time for this change and that change; a time for this bank to be reformed, a time for that river to be depended. The words at the top though, those are a reassurance that in drought or flood, the everyday meanderings occur in God’s timing.

He is the drawer of the map, the definer of the river bank. I can rely on him to guide through the changes; letting me sit back and watch what unfolds. 

Just a Sheep III – Life Giver of Abundance

A heavy rain just ended. The clouds carrying evaporative moisture experienced cooling and condensing, turning the vapor into rain. It is as if a cloud were like a towel, too heavy with moisture and it was wrung out. The soil received the rain, it seeped into the dirt and watered the roots of plants burrowed into the ground. With the rain the world turns shades of lovely lively greens; and from some of these green organic structures a harvest can be picked. This season of abundant harvest is shown in the multi-colored farmer’s market stands, as they hold a literal cornucopia of vegetables and fruits. From these harvestings, we are physically nourished for daily life. However, this is no lackluster nourishment. This harvest is rich with color, fragrance, texture and taste. It is abundant, abundance being a wave, a surge and an overflow. Late in the summer, the harvest is ample. But the life that the shepherd provides is more abundant than any a garden can produce.   

Listening to the words of Jesus at the beginning of John 10, it seems as though he might have received some blank stares and puzzled looks talking about sheep and shepherding. Picking up the subject again, Jesus draws a sharp contrast between himself and robbers. While the shepherd seeks the best for the flock to keep it safe and healthy, the thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy. No doubt some were pondering these words and felt their tempers rising, realizing that they – the spiritually favorable – had just been referred to as thieves. Thieves comes to rob us of joy, peace, hope, faith and to destroy the relationship with the shepherd.

I love this last contrast in verse ten. Watch the word I, “I have come.” The Lord has come, the Lord is come. And, he comes for a purpose! I have come to give life, a more abundant life. In other words, I am the shepherd and I will take care of my people. Not in a minimal way to just get them by; rather I will give of myself so that they have life more abundantly. This abundance is the kind that is measured, pressed down, shaken together and running over, (Luke 6:38). This is the abundance we cannot contain, it simply keeps overflowing from our hands, running down our arms and seeping into the ground below our feet. 

“Then Jesus said to them again, ‘Most assuredly, I say to you, I am the door of the sheep. All who ever came before Me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not hear them. I am the door. If anyone enters by Me, he will be saved, and will go in and out and find pasture. The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.’”  John 10: 7-10

In a world of achieve more, faster, higher and better, I occasionally hear someone speak honestly of the desire for an abundance that they cannot make. It is an abundance of life, which has nothing to do with earthbound accomplishments. It is the more of eternity, the more of agape, the more of freedom that comes from reliances on the shepherd. This is the more that cannot be destroyed or taken. This is the more of Jesus, the giver of abundant life.

Ripples

The day started with a downpour. While hesitating to leave the dry space under the eaves to make a run for the car, I was also wishing for a porch swing where I could read and listen to the rain. Crossing a puddle later in the day when little drops were still falling, I had to pause to admire the ripples. One drop of water created a wave of movement that then echoed throughout the puddle. Two drops and the ripples start to touch each other. The raindrops keep coming and the patterns become beautifully complex. I had to pause because it reminded me of the ripples people leave in each other’s lives. We all leave ripples in lives we touch. Whether barely noticeable or momentously life altering, echoes of movement impact us all.

My mind is full tonight of those who have touched my life, with those in the last month especially standing out. It comes out in bits and pieces of circular waves, as images in my mind. A silver ax held behind me by a man in uniform, standing by a casket; how embraced by honor and protection I felt. Little white haired women walking with canes all told me that they hadn’t seen me since I was knee high; their greetings gave me grounding. Reaching behind for a sister’s hand, knowing it would be there; blessed by love in family. Meals, visitors, unexpected travelers, hugs, listeners, paperwork helpers and so many more offer compassion and have made these waves a bit more of a gentle swell to ride. I am still occasionally hit by the movement, knocked about for a moment and trying to regain my balance. Tears sting my eyes and I find myself again and again being ready this seasickness to end. But, the ripples today reminded me of how beautiful the movements of others have been, creating beautiful patterns across my life.  

A Collective Breath

Christmas Eve is here!  Complete with snow on the ground, making the White Christmas I sing about happily true this year.  The presents are wrapped with brightly colored paper, completed with sparkly shiny bows.  Cards expressing Christmas wishes to all are nearly ready to be given (my theory is that as long as they go out before the New Year it’s all good).  Soon, the house will be filled with the smell of Christmas Eve chili, lemon pie and a mixture of other goodies; complimented by the sounds of children, friends and family. 

The special time of Christmas is not something that is made up of all these wonderful things, though these are exceptionally lovely things to include.  It is a yearly instance where the world seems to take a collective breath and inhale the sweet newness of an infant in a manger; the feeling we get when we hold a tiny new life that is only minutes, days or weeks old.  Thrust into our arms, the baby’s weight is slight, but it fills us with the weight of love and responsibility. 

The pause of peace that occurs around this time of year is reflected in traditions, spontaneous declarations and heartbreakingly wistful wants of peace throughout history and the world.  The town of Turku, Finland, has declared a Christmas peace since the Middle Ages.  The holly and mistletoe, respectively the kissing plant and the plant of peace, are reminiscent of the kiss of peace monarchs would give and receive from their nobles.  The old history of many carols can be traced to the need of peace that only this new life a baby could bring.  In much more modern history, a desire for peace came out again in the Civil War, even amidst Christmas day skirmishes.  The soldiers’ hearts craved that peace should be the order of the day and reflected it in their letters and songs.  After the capture of Savannah, some northern soldiers delivered several wagons full of food and other supplies to the people who were caught in a land desolated by a bitter war.  In World War I, an impromptu peace broke out in several places as men in opposing trenches exchanged songs, a few gifts, and rallied their impromptu football (a.k.a soccer) teams with cheering, ringing foreign sounds of peace through no-man’s-land.  Much more recent is in war-torn Nigeria; a few Muslim and Christian neighbors have declared this very Christmas a time of peace to celebrate together. 

Beyond the kindness to strangers we many witness at this time, these days have a convention of people drawing in a breath and catching in a singular air of the divine.  I think it is more than just sweet traditions and customs that has brought about these singular moments that we know of, and the thousands we do not know of.  I think it is the celebration of an earthly birth of a heavenly king.  The peace our minds and bodies crave catch a whisper from the spirit, quiet amongst the sounds of wrapping, caroling, sledding, shopping, visiting, and cooking; barely heard and yet keenly felt.  It is the whisper that offers peace, the peace of the spirit.  The peace we have so long wanted is rested in our arms as a new born baby, Jesus.  The emptiness in the longing is filled with the hope of peace.  But, I think that it is not just the baby that impacts in such a tremendous way, it is the man as well.  The man that died for us, died for us out of love and returned to us out of love, to offer peace. 

In the hectic moments the next few days presents, I wish you a merry and peace filled Christmas.  That you will draw in a breath and catch a faint hint of the smell of a new baby in a manger, of a man on a cross, of the promise of peace in love. 

I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day
 I heard the bells on Christmas day
 Their old familiar carols play,
 And wild and sweet the words repeat
 Of peace on earth, good will to men.

 I thought how, as the day had come,
 The belfries of all Christendom
 Had rolled along th'unbroken song
 Of peace on earth, good will to men.

 And in despair I bowed my head:
 'There is no peace on earth,' I said
 'For hate is strong, and mocks the song
 Of peace on earth, good will to men.'

 Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
 'God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
 The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
 With peace on earth, good will to men.'

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

   

  

Buckets of Refreshing

Overall, this summer has been extremely pleasant for someone who is not a fan of high heat.  Cool days and cooler nights have come to a temporary end as the heat arrived and seems to want to stay.  My plants that seemed refreshed and able to handle the heat this morning were bowed down and droopy by this afternoon.  The soil seemed as if the moisture was evaporated out at such a rate that what was okay this morning was completely dry by evening.  Grabbing the bucket and filling it up multiple times from the garden hose, plants were watered slowly.  Too fast and the water just rolls off.  Slowly, repetitively, water needs to be added, allowing it to sink in.  One time watered, two time watered, and slowly I watched the water sink in.  After an evening and night to soak in the new water, tomorrow the plants will be recharged.  Of course, that is water for one day.  Tomorrow evening, in this heat, water will also be needed again.

I feel like these plants sometimes.  The heat of a busy day arrives and what started out as refreshed ends as drooped and bowed to the sun.  I can feel dried out, over extended and badly in need of refreshing.  In fact, I’ve been feeling that way in the last few months off and on.  Wonderful opportunities to be involved in so many different projects and activities, doing great things to serve – things I want to do.  But, without refreshing I will be as dry as that dirt.  Yet, I have noticed that as refreshing comes from the Lord, and it does come, it comes like the water from the bucket – a little at a time.  It came in watching fawns for some time this afternoon.  It came from an unexpected encounter waving to a friend during an afternoon.  It came from seeing a shooting star, a hummingbird, and a friend’s smile.  A child’s exuberant and unencumbered praise of Christ, the time in prayer, and the words of the Bible all come like cool water and refresh my spirit. 

Yes, I do bow with the heat and the dryness that life can bring, just with the schedule of things I love to do.  And yet, I am continuing to find each day, buckets slowly added to bring refreshing.  

Perspectives from Marigolds

Just spent a few minutes dead-heading the marigolds in the yard.  Of all the summer flowers, that is one of my favorites with their little sun spots of color and powerful perfume that the bees and birds love. 

To give the coming and current blooms the most energy from the plant, the dying blooms can be removed in a process called dead-heading.  Just snip the bloom off with your fingers.  I go out and do that every week or so, and that is when you will find my pockets full of marigold flowers as I head back in the house to store my treasure through the rest of the year and into the next spring.  I break up the heads so that the seeds can dry out and be stored.  Then, after the most recent batch has dried, it takes its place in a glass jar to be held until the new spring comes.

Seeing these summer blooms drying up can be kind of a sad thought.  It is a reminder of the opening and closing of life chapters in general.  But, as I look at the pile of seeds ready to dry and be stored, I can’t help but think of the perspective lesson marigolds share.  Life does present us with opening and closings, starts and finishes.  The starts and finishes can be nerve-wracking, happy, grief filled, and joyous.  Needless to say, I can go in fits and starts with openings and closings that do not regularly occur in an all smooth fashion.  New things can make me nervous, even when I’m excited about them.  And, some things I am very glad to see go, while others I miss very much. 

But, marigolds remind me of how these chapter lessons are kind of like these seeds.   The lessons can be dried out and stored for later.  Carefully preserved to be re-planted later, as life seasons change, lessons will come in handy again.  Planted in the next season, they not only re-grow from the seed of that original plant, but produces new seeds as well.  Each season of planting and building, all from one dried up flower head holding marigold seeds.    

By Many Titles

They may be called mom, momma, grandma, mee-maw, granny, gran, gram, auntie or various other names that can mean mentor, teacher, protector, guider, and matriarch.  Known by many titles, women can form solid bedrock of strength in our life through their efforts and energies.  Though it is not a guarantee that all women will nurture those around them, there are many that expend their energies to do so. 

Today is the recognized Mother’s Day holiday and I enjoyed recognizing my own mom and her role in my life today.  She is such a tremendous example of love and wisdom.  We have shared tears through laughter and over difficulties.  We have challenged each other to learn different skills and shared many adventures.  Girls trips, prayer times, history discussions, faith building, baking bread, singing songs, book reading, and confidence building are just a few of the things she has brought into my life.  I thank her for being a mother who has parented passionately and intentionally, wanting to be the best mother possible.

There are also other women who have instilled good things into me.  So many strong and vibrant women flash through my mind, who “mothered” me even though not my birth mother.  Beyond women in my family who have also been an example, I wanted to mention a few others.  My dear sisters who mother their own children and are a source of joy to watch, especially as I get to be an aunt!  My Ohio mom who has been a voice of comfort in times when the world was falling down, and also lets me be silly and relax in my skin.  A Kentucky Sunday School teacher provided me with a place to feel accepted when I felt so very out of my comfort zone.  My dear Ena who passed away not terribly long ago, she was my baby sitter when I was a baby and a little girl.  She kept me busy, loved, prayed over, and gave southern sweet tea as a treat.  My eighth grade science teacher helped me bridge the move to Florida while being someone who could talk about NASA and explain math.  We shared a common love of space and she is still so dear to me.  Student teaching with two lovely ladies taught me about loving students and also maintaining energetic professionalism in a classroom.  Challenged to think, laugh, explore, love, and grow – these women and so many more have been enormous influences in my life.  I thank them and wish them Happy Mother’s Day! 

You may or may not have children.  You may have experienced the loss of a mom or a child.  So many women suffer through this day instead of celebrating it, and to them I say let’s celebrate your influence in “momming” others around you!

Life

    It has been a busy weekend, with plants, tree frogs tad poles, mustangs with eagle feathers, and little baby robins fledglings.  The robins we have been watching for the last few weeks took their chances and left the nest.  It is amazing to me how these little lives can know how to fly after being alive and out of their shells less than a month!  Their eyes aren’t even open for about five days.  To know that they are now out there, and on their own is very exciting.  As much as miss seeing those little feathered faces with wide open mouths as I stand at the kitchen sink, it is a thrill to see some adolescent robin fly from limb to limb. 

    The precious state of life, fragile in baby birds or little tadpoles was demonstrated this weekend.  A trip to a friend’s house led me to spend some time happily taking pictures of various animals, including tree frog eggs and tadpoles.  These tiny dots would become the little fish like creatures, and then on to become tree frogs.  Surrounded by these little creatures, chicks, hens, and beautiful plants, it was a gently vibrant place where life was flourishing. 

    I think we may take life for granted some days, get used to what is around us and forget it’s miraculous nature in just being present.  I mean, think of the variety of those frogs, birds, and plants.  They are so diverse that it boggles the imagination.  

Puppy Rhythms

   A new puppy in our lives has created a flurry of activity, a dramatic decline in our paper towel and carpet cleaner inventory, and a change in the rhythm of our lives. Puppies, high spirited and energetic, are fun little fur balls. They are charmingly cute in the way they instigate trouble and investigate the world surrounding them. At the same time, you know that much like toddlers, if you hear silence, it generally means that they are into something they shouldn’t be.

   Buddy has been here almost two weeks, and already our lives have shifted. More than just items being placed higher and shushing each other when he is taking his nap, Buddy has been the source of a great deal of laughter, enjoyment at watching his antics, and just the simple pleasure of snuggling with a warm and squirmy puppy.
   Much like a baby, puppies follow patterns. They go out, they come in, eat and drink, play, go out, sleep, over and over… When he is asleep, is time to do tasks quickly and get items that require more concentration done. Then, when he is awake, it is hard not to just leave everything where it’s at to go and play with him.
   Buddy is growing, gaining several pounds already. He will continue to grow, to become a large dog and lose his puppy features. But, he has already made a permanent imprint on our minds, hearts, and lives.

She Could See

    When I was working on my bachelor’s degree, I had private voice lessons with an older woman who had gone blind. She had a beautiful large boned yellow lab that was her seeing eye dog. She was amazing. This woman played golf, traveled, went to plays and performances, and participated in the community. There was more than one time that she would state so calmly, open your mouth and smile. I would always wonder, how does she know if I am smiling or not she can’t see me!

   This woman so impressed me because she didn’t let a “handicap” stop her from living her life. I can see, but there are things I can’t do. I must choose whether or not I let my own “handicaps” stop me from living a full life.

Lifejacket

   For a brief time, I lived on a sand bar island in Florida. The backyard opened out onto the bay and if I would have walked straight out the front and continued across the street, I would have eventually come to the Gulf of Mexico. The water was beautiful, and the sounds of it lapping against the barrier were very restful. I learned very quickly that the water, though beautiful, was something that had to be respected.

   People walk in their own little circles, stand on sand bars in life, and feel the waves move the grains of sand beneath their feet. But, life can be full off currents, rip tides, and hidden shoals in the tides. So, I vote for a life jacket. Actually, some days I vote for a life jacket, little army float things, an inflatable dingy and a raft. The thing is that we all need a life jacket. We cannot save ourselves in the water, floating around forever. Instead, we need something to help us keep afloat.
   So, what it is that keeps me afloat? Well, I have learned that my dingy gets water in it not only because of storms, but because I keep putting water in it. The water in it is because of worry. Instead of bailing the water out, I could hold onto worry. It’ s like taking one of those empty coffee cans and filling it up with water, only to pour it into the boat. Not such a great plan. Worry, sin, destruction, the world we live in is a turbulent one. Many times a day we refill our empty coffee cans with water and instead of tossing it back out into the water, we pour it into the boat. With all of that going on, we may find that our boat sinks. Treading water, we realize that we need something that we cannot just keep refilling. We need a life jacket. I need a life jacket that keeps me afloat.
   There are good days and bad days, good choices and bad choices – life is still turbulent. What I need is something that will not fail to keep me afloat, even when my boat fails. My life jacket is the one who created the sea. He holds me even when I fill my own boat.

Goodbye Shoebox

     In my closet there are several shoeboxes, without shoes in them. Instead, they are stuffed full of cards, notes, comic strips, photos, and little mementos from over the years. Tickets torn in half from movies, programs from different shows, and a little confetti sit in boxes. Every once in a while, I pull them down out of the closet and go through them. Birthdays, special moments, and special people come back to me in memories. I remember friends that I have dearly loved and haven’t seen in years. I remember family that I haven’t seen in much too long and will not see again on this earth. Memories and melancholy and joy mix into together and live in those shoe boxes. Ribbons tie on some of the lids which are bulging and need some extra help.

     The shoeboxes are a reminder of what has been. I don’t live there now, I don’t even linger there very often. But, every once in a while I have a desire to see something from years ago and to remember the laughter, challenges, sweat, and plans that made up those days. Then, I put them away and say good bye to my shoeboxes. I say good-bye to what was and hello to what is and look forward to what could be.

It’s the Little Things

I like to shop. I like to find the perfect pair of jeans that fit. I took about two years to pick out a dish set that I liked. I like to travel. I like to have the technology around me that makes life a bit easier. I like these things… but they are not the real joy of my life.

It is the little things, the non-thing things that are really the joy. It’s the big things of momentous occasions. For me, the little and big things are the sound of a little boy’s feet as he runs through the house. The color of the sky after a storm passes and the sky clears up to a blue that just looks clean and makes the whiteness of clouds stand out brilliantly. The smell of a fresh green bean picked right off of the green bean bush. Watching a fawn, still new and spotted, be allowed to explore its world for the first time just slightly away from mom. It is the sound of laughter with a friend. It is a friend you are so comfortable with that make-up, hair done, clothes carefully selected, and the house picking up not only does not have to occur, but you don’t ever worry about it because it’s just not going to be an issue. The smell and taste of the steam of freshly made hot coffee, pungently black and bitter in the nose. The feel of a hand of a brand new little life wrap around a finger. Puppy kisses that can’t help but make me giggle, as my dog tries to clean my entire face. The color of the birds, and the sound of a morning dove. Visiting just to visit and enjoying the company of a friend. Singing with the radio, signing in the kitchen, signing in the driveway, singing in the grocery store, just singing in general – can you see a pattern there? It is the feel of clean sheets and warm towels right out of the dryer. It is the smell of chicken on the grill and fresh sweet corn on the plate. It is the labor of a task well done and accomplished. It is the quiet time to listen to God. It is the goose bumps when you have just a glimpse of His awesome mightiness and love. It is the sounds of honest tears as pains are shared and not hidden. It is the sound of an argument worked through and not hidden from. It is the birthdays, anniversaries, hellos, and good-byes. It is the memories which make you choke up with emotion and the memories which come back fleetingly and startle you with their sudden clarity. It is the pain that God uses for a good purpose. It is a well fitting ball cap and the cool breeze on your head when you lift it up after mowing. It is sleeping in, and being thankful to be able to get up when the alarm clock goes off and there is no sleeping in. It is small town parades with candy and bands and fire trucks. It is back porch picnics with make shift tables and sitting on rugs on the concrete floor. The smell that is unique to books along it’s spine, I stick my nose in and breathe deep. It is a family who loves, friends who are family, and being a child of God.
It’s the little and big non-thing things.

The Procession

I was part of a funeral procession earlier this week. It was traveling from the graveside to the church, to celebrate the life of a good man and the beautiful legacy he is leaving his family. It struck me as the cars moved along, that this procession is such a fitting thing to do. Cars moved out of the cemetery and onto the road. Cemetery’s are sad places, but for those who know Christ it is more the grieving of change as the believer is taken to heaven.

I was in-between a white car and a bluish grey car. We pulled out of the cemetery onto the road. We traveled together, headlights on. Then, at our first intersection, another car was added. It turned off a short while later. A few more cars and a truck were added shortly after. One pulled off and another traveled on with us for a while more. Others just passed through the line, moving across the intersection and never joining us. We turned at the road for the church, found parking spots.
It struck me that this is so appropriate for life. Some people are with us from the beginning and to the end, through the entire journey. Others join us along the way and then travel with us for a little while. Some just pass through in a moment and then are gone again. Some join us part of the way through and then stay the rest of the time. Impact can be had throughout, even with those shortest of encounters.

Winding Down the Clock – Winding Up the Fire

This week kicked off a life changing event for around four thousand teens and their youth leaders in Columbus, Ohio. It is called Challenge, a national youth event put on by the EFCA church denomination every two years. Imagine a conference/concert/mission trip/team building event packed into one week and you have a glimpse of Challenge. I went to something similar in high school, called Life. Life was a yearly event brought by the Christian Missionary Alliance denomination. These events are intended to be more than just a big youth party, a frenzy of speakers and stuff – they are intended and purposed to be life changing moments for those in attendance.

Imagine that life goes along and then something pivotal happens. You can choose to what angle it will move you, to a large or small degree, but you are in a moment where movement can occur. And not just any movement, but big movement, this is the moment that all of those who have worked so hard in speaking and performing and preparing are really striving toward.
Saturday, they are heading home. Packed into buses, vans, airplanes, and cars, all of those who spilled into the city to partake of this time are now leaving. As the group I know moves back across the US in the vans, I have been thinking about their prayer requests and about how they will have a life change.
A substance used to exist, for the most terrible of battlefield tools, Greek fire. Greek fire was a chemical reaction; put a series of materials together, mix, add air, throw it onto something and it would catch into a brilliant flame of searing heat. It was not put out with water, but burned until it was out of fuel. As the teens and leaders come back, they will have a new life and enthusiasm with them. How could you not with that kind of environment? For a whole week, speakers, helpers, and leaders have poured themselves into you, with the express purpose of loving you as God loves you.
The return home is the time when you start finding out if the fire within you is a regular fire or Greek fire. You start facing daily challenges, must now decide to put changes into practice, deal with adversity, face disappointments and frustrations, and experience life. Along the way, there are buckets of water and various other substances that are thrown onto your fire. Other methods are tried to put you back as you were. Don’t be fearful of running out fuel for the fire, God is the ultimate provider and is the creator of all. The fuel will not be removed, though it certainly may change over time.
I am so looking forward to hearing the stories of this week. I want to hear about the songs and stories, the hotel and city, the unexpected and delighted. But even more, I am looking forward to hearing the stories in five or fifteen or twenty five years. I want to hear stories of what the changes were in a life from pivotal change, what kind of fire was lit, and how life was altered, altered forever.

A Month Old

Last night I had the opportunity to spend time with a one month old little girl. Wow – talk about a tiny little person, beautifully made. She opened her eyes and looked and me. She grinned … gas… Ah yes, infants.
Babies are so amazing, they come into this world so helpless. Over time, they learn to walk, talk, run, play, and many other things. As I held this little girl and listened to her make baby crying sounds and blow bubbles, I was thinking of the day my grandfather was in the hospital for heart surgery. It was a major surgery and serious. The heart had several major blockages, open heart surgery was going to be required.
The day of surgery, we went into the waiting room and there was quite a crowd gathered. Cousins, uncles, aunts, and friends – they were all there to lend support to each other. There were some cousins distant enough that I didn’t know who they were. An uncle sat down next to me and started explaining who everyone was. It was a comfort.
Another comfort came when a cousin handed me her baby. I believe he was a bit older than a month, but here he was sleeping in my arms. It was a comfort holding that baby, feeling the warmth and movement as he shifted in his sleep. It was a comfort because it reminded me of the cycle of life. We are born, helpless and requiring care. We grow and require instruction, nourishment, and various amounts of shoes as we outgrow them all. Then, suddenly, our shoe size evens out and we arrive at adulthood. We still grow, still need instruction and nourishment, but now we can go and seek it out for ourselves. We grow older and slowly we become less steady. We come into the world helpless, and we leave it the same way. So, I held that baby and it was a comfort, that life continues.
The little one I held last night, she is just a few days over a month old – she is beautiful. She is life going on.