It's been more difficult to start this blog today than at any time before, and I've been pondering the reason. The other day I talked about being asked to help a young couple plan a memorial for the wife, who is terminally ill. The date was set for yesterday in the afternoon. About 90 minutes before we were to leave for their home, the husband phoned. "Setback," he said. His spouse had fallen ill, her platelet count was dangerously low. That meant a trip to the hospital, and an undetermined time to be spent there while the staff laboured to correct the dangerous situation. Setback indeed. More like another brush with death. He would call us to re-schedule when "things settled down."
It's now more than 24 hours later, and he has not called. Of course, that could simply mean that between children and work, he's too busy. Or, it could mean something very much worse…who knows. In the meantime, I hold them up to the Divine and ask for care for them. And I wait, but not patiently or peacefully. My problem, not theirs.
I have been reflecting off and on all day how fragile life is when you draw close to its edge. In the twinkling of an eye, she could be gone. Or I could be gone! As I think this, I recall that the woman with the illness-unto-death lives her life fully in each moment, wisely. That's really all she's got. And she has become my teacher, for really, that's all I've got too. I might live another ten years, or fifteen. Or I could drop tomorrow, tonight. So I enjoyed the sun on my face as I walked, even though the wind had a bite. Not enough to take away the sun. And I was blessed. I finished book this afternoon, in the midst of the gentle hubbub of Tim Horton's. Another blessing. And another book awaits me.
Walking, I thought about the people I love, who love me (I think), and I smiled again. I am profoundly gifted, even while I struggle to figure out what my life is for, now that I rarely work. I read, and I learn, and I try to remember what these wise teachers tell me every day. I prepare meals, knowing that work is a gift to my beloved, who would scramble to eat if I was not here. I support her with food, and with more as well.
Enough for now. Other thoughts cloud my mind, to be written in other places for other people. Another day…
It's now more than 24 hours later, and he has not called. Of course, that could simply mean that between children and work, he's too busy. Or, it could mean something very much worse…who knows. In the meantime, I hold them up to the Divine and ask for care for them. And I wait, but not patiently or peacefully. My problem, not theirs.
I have been reflecting off and on all day how fragile life is when you draw close to its edge. In the twinkling of an eye, she could be gone. Or I could be gone! As I think this, I recall that the woman with the illness-unto-death lives her life fully in each moment, wisely. That's really all she's got. And she has become my teacher, for really, that's all I've got too. I might live another ten years, or fifteen. Or I could drop tomorrow, tonight. So I enjoyed the sun on my face as I walked, even though the wind had a bite. Not enough to take away the sun. And I was blessed. I finished book this afternoon, in the midst of the gentle hubbub of Tim Horton's. Another blessing. And another book awaits me.
Walking, I thought about the people I love, who love me (I think), and I smiled again. I am profoundly gifted, even while I struggle to figure out what my life is for, now that I rarely work. I read, and I learn, and I try to remember what these wise teachers tell me every day. I prepare meals, knowing that work is a gift to my beloved, who would scramble to eat if I was not here. I support her with food, and with more as well.
Enough for now. Other thoughts cloud my mind, to be written in other places for other people. Another day…
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