Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Beautiful Family

I could make a pretty deep Venn-diagram for the two sides of my family.  It would have a lot written in each part.  The two sides of my family share so many things: both are big but tight-knit.  Both love to have fun.  I come right in the middle of the cousin line-up on both sides.  Both have strong family cultures formed by strong, bright parents (who are my grandparents), and carried on by more strong, bright parents (my aunts, uncles, and my mom and dad), and instilled in more strong, bright people (my cousins, from the ones who are starting their own gorgeous little families to the ones who are being potty-trained). 
Family is such a beautiful thing.  And when I say strong, and bright, I mean it.  I am surrounded by people who are strong.  They don't have easy-breezy lives but they live with such tenacity, such strength for each other.  This week, at the family reunion for my mom's side of the family, I have felt keenly the silver threads that connect us -- connect us to one another and to the other side of the veil. 
And I have felt these people's brightness.  Both sides of my family, in fact, are loaded with people who are extremely smart.  But even more significantly, they are light-bright.  They have the shining power of faith and love and hope in their lives. It's such an exquisite thing to be a part of.
It feels unfair -- why do I get such light-filled, happy nests of love to be raised in, while there are so many who don't?  It is something I don't understand - makes my heart hurt - but I do know that I am inexpressibly grateful for my families, and that I believe in families.  So much, that makes my heart hurt too.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Sea of Green

I went into the middle of a field yesterday.  I don't know if I've ever been in such an open space in my life.  You know how some people have a phobia of open spaces?  They would have been terrified
I was on this country road and I realized that the barbed-wire fence along the road had ended and there was just this big ol' mass of green vastness there for the taking.  So I timidly took a few steps out into it.  Once I started it kept pulling me in.  Soon I had run/interpretive danced into the middle of it all, with the wind blowing ripples through the blades all around.  It really does feel kind of like being out far into the ocean.
I swam my way to a fence on the other side, next to which there was this old roadster buggy-thing all rusted and forgotten.  It was cool.  The sun was getting close to the western horizon, so I hurried back through the field to the road to the car to home.  To my relief, the whole experience didn't even leave me with a tick.
Oh!  And, on my way back to the car I noticed some friendly Black-Eyed Susans, which I took home with me and put in a vase in the kitchen.  

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Live and Laugh

I think it was my dad who taught me to laugh at myself.  I am convinced that this skill is absolutely essential. 
This morning I was remembering a particularly embarrassing experience from a month or so ago.  You know how sometimes those memories fling themselves at you without warning?  It's amazing to me how much of a reaction is produced from a simple memory, but there I was, cringing inside. 
I found myself laughing.  Here I am, weeks later, and there's not a thing I can do about my month-old tactlessness.  But I can laugh.  I can log away whatever information might be helpful in the future, spread out my arms and let out a full-breathed laugh to the Montana sky while I squelch through the mud in my running shoes.