I saw a lady at church this week, not so very old, but losing her hair. Her hair was especially thin on one side, and yet, to the other side there was a nice swath of hair. And upon that swath, she wore a hair barrette. I wondered how it stayed there, so thin her hair was even there it seemed it should slide off. I also wondered how she had decided to wear it. It brought the eye to her hair, and if it were me, I most likely would have worn a scarf or cap to cover what I was losing rather than draw any attention to it.
I met a man this week, an elder veteran now living in a hospital. He was crying and crying out over and over again whatever the last words spoken to him might have been. “See you later. See you later. See you later. See you later.” So heartbroken was he that he couldn’t stop the crying. Momentarily, my friend’s therapy dog soothed him. With his hand upon her head, I’d say, “She’s so sweet. She’s a sweet dog.” And he would begin, “Sweet dog. Sweet dog. Sweet dog. Sweet dog. Sweet dog.” And I thought, “He should always be left with good words. He should always be given words that soothe and bless and heal.” “Good friend. Good friend. Good friend.” “Pretty sunlight. Pretty sunlight. Pretty sunlight.” “Calm waters. Calm waters. Calm waters.” “Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.” “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
I also traveled to see my aunt who is recovering from throat cancer. She lives alone, and while she has had a fair amount of friends and family to look in on her throughout this mighty struggle… she has mostly weathered this storm by herself and with her God. She has always had a grateful heart and continues to this day to say how good God is to her, how blessed she always feels. And I felt that truth, and I felt her loneliness, and I felt her tender strength.
There is also a plant I’ve been watching near my mother’s flower bed. It wasn’t planted by her hands. It was an unexpected delight that grows outside of the well-formed space. It pushed its way up through the cement walk and is now taller and heartier than the flowers in the rich soil. It’s unique in its foliage and colorful blooming. And one cannot help but notice such a beautiful will to live.
A barrette. A mantra. Gratitude. Will.
Courage keeps rising up to hold out hope to us all.
“How can I keep from singing?”
I met a man this week, an elder veteran now living in a hospital. He was crying and crying out over and over again whatever the last words spoken to him might have been. “See you later. See you later. See you later. See you later.” So heartbroken was he that he couldn’t stop the crying. Momentarily, my friend’s therapy dog soothed him. With his hand upon her head, I’d say, “She’s so sweet. She’s a sweet dog.” And he would begin, “Sweet dog. Sweet dog. Sweet dog. Sweet dog. Sweet dog.” And I thought, “He should always be left with good words. He should always be given words that soothe and bless and heal.” “Good friend. Good friend. Good friend.” “Pretty sunlight. Pretty sunlight. Pretty sunlight.” “Calm waters. Calm waters. Calm waters.” “Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.” “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
I also traveled to see my aunt who is recovering from throat cancer. She lives alone, and while she has had a fair amount of friends and family to look in on her throughout this mighty struggle… she has mostly weathered this storm by herself and with her God. She has always had a grateful heart and continues to this day to say how good God is to her, how blessed she always feels. And I felt that truth, and I felt her loneliness, and I felt her tender strength.
There is also a plant I’ve been watching near my mother’s flower bed. It wasn’t planted by her hands. It was an unexpected delight that grows outside of the well-formed space. It pushed its way up through the cement walk and is now taller and heartier than the flowers in the rich soil. It’s unique in its foliage and colorful blooming. And one cannot help but notice such a beautiful will to live.
A barrette. A mantra. Gratitude. Will.
Courage keeps rising up to hold out hope to us all.
“How can I keep from singing?”
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