|The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected. Robert Frost|
Photo of Moss Creek, Birmingham, AL 2010
I am in the process of burning photos to dvd’s. Yes, they are backed up on an external drive as well as online. But Triple-Redundancy is my middle name. Especially where pictures are concerned. A photo transports me to a moment. In that moment lies the intersection of other memories...of dreams that never came to pass...of lives lost or forever altered...of great wondrous moments beyond my imagination.
Next week we will celebrate Thanksgiving. The menus are planned. I’m one of the lucky ones. Surrounded from the beginning by family. Imperfect, all of us. But we loved as best we could. I cherish memories of home-cooked feasts and walks in the woods...to recover from those meals. And I recall my childhood dreams. But I have discarded the illusion that life unfolds according to my plans.
Someone has altered the script.
My lines have been changed,
I thought I was writing this play. Madeleine L'Engle
The plot has changed. Many times. I’ve survived. Others haven’t. Old dreams died but new ones have risen from the depths. And these, too, will morph. I will tend some and let others wither. Some will be removed from me. Life is capricious and out of my control. This is good. I am not qualified to run the universe.
This Thanksgiving I celebrate hope.
"...trust in creation which is made fresh daily and doesn't suffer in translation. This God does not work in especially mysterious ways. The sun here rises and sets at six exactly. A caterpillar becomes a butterfly. A bird raises its brood in the forest and a greenheart tree will grow only from a greenheart seed. He brings drought sometimes followed by torrential rains; and if these things aren't always what I had in mind, they aren't my punishment either. They're rewards, let's say, for the patience of a seed." Barbara Kingsolver
Here's wishing you a blessed season of gratitude and the patience of a seed. Hope you enjoy this beautiful song by George Winston: