“We’re only here for a minute. We’re here for a little window. And to use that time to catch and share shards of light and laughter and grace seems to me the great story.” “A Long River of Song,” by Brian Doyle.
One advantage of moving so many times over the years is the number of people with whom I’ve come into contact and who have become such good friends. The disadvantage, of course, is losing touch and the sense of community that I try to develop in each of our new homes. Each year, the birthday wishes bestowed upon me from friends from the different times and places in my life show me how important fellowship and community are to my well-being.
Peruvian adventure, meeting Indigenous children at festival.
My younger son called to wish me birthday wishes as he walked along the canal near his home in Paris, a seemingly normal call that actually is the result of amazing technology. He always asks what I think about the coming year. In perspective, two years ago on my birthday we were figuring out how to live during the early phases of the pandemic lock-down. Last year on my birthday we were still in an apartment in Asheville, waiting for a house to be constructed (well, still the same this year although we may actually move in next week), wondering when book club would go from Zoom calls to in-person gatherings (which we are now able to do), engaging with non-profit organizations (again, via Zoom) as we (Women for Women, a local women’s giving circle) considered grant funding, and continuing to cancel vacations and family visits due to the pandemic. During these past two years, my grandchildren, the loves of my life, have grown, now six and three-years-old, they are imaginative, creative, bundles of energy.
So many blessings in this reflection, those add up to a life well lived. Add to this your contributions to the larger community, there is hope woven into gratitude.