Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Bad stuff happens. When I was a child, I would turn, in tears, to my parents for explanations. Life isn't fair, Dad would snap -- then bow his head to hide his emotions. Mom would simply purse her lips. Even they couldn't protect us from harsh realities, but they kept on keeping on. Together. Years later, I learned they would sometimes hold one another and cry themselves to sleep. In private. But in public -- even in family -- they seemed indomitable. They were our own personal blend of regional art and literature: "American Gothic" and "Portraits (sic) in Courage." Our parents.
Bad stuff still happens. Mom and Dad are gone now, so I am even more grateful for faith, family and friends. I am grateful, too, for the prayer and cyberspace that connect us. (Yes, it's a frustrating connection, but dial-up from Kenya is better than none!) I remember an old friend's remark, "Life works, if we just remember to take turns needing." It is hard to take turns in the midst of poverty, but I witness it every day. And I give thanks for new friends who, by example, ever-so-kindly remind me to notice. To -- as Dad would have said and Mom would have nodded -- "wake up and smell the roses."
Or, more accurately, the frangipani. It is heavenly here. So are you, Robin and Zach, Finley and Elizabeth. Asante sana for "frangipana." (Pole/Sorry. I'm ever the corny Midwesterner.)
Posted by Dianne, Dee, Mom, Granny at 7:00 AM