Category: Wonder

What I am learning from my younger brother

Sr. Dorcee, beloved1 Comment

My brother, 11 months younger than me, has been homeless for the last couple of months, living out of his car in a major city. My first reaction when I found out was to feel like I had to “fix” him, that I had a responsibility to “fix” his situation, and there is some truth to that. I am actively trying to help him in his journey to find a place to live. At the same time, I have much to learn from him. He is an artist and very perceptive to the beauty in things and people. I just want to share one anecdote that he related the last time I talked to him on the phone. He said something like: “I opened the sun roof in my car, and it started raining. Raining flower petals! I said, ‘Go at it!!’ But then I did have to shut the window because I knew that I would have to clean it all up out of my car.” Isn’t that a beautiful attitude? Go at it!! See the beauty and let it happen to you. Thanks for being the beautiful person that you are, my brother.

Photo from https://jonellepatrick.me/2019/04/03/best-falling-cherry-blossom-river-pink-petals/

Nine bean rows

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I have posted music by Ola Gjeilo before. I am particularly fascinated by this piece. I immediately start to smile when I hear it. As always, his music is profound, and the selected imagery for this video is so breathtaking. I listened to the lyrics which began with “I will arise and go to Inisfree”, but I was stopped by “Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee . . . ” Not what I expected. Just seemed too plain for his majestic music. And then . . . as I listened to it over and over, I began to ponder that this is exactly the way with our God, the Creator. Every thing, every thing that he made is profound and beautiful and worthy of majestic music and celebration. Including nine bean rows.

I want to read poetry in just this way.

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The power of words in description. I want to read poetry in just this way.

“People were unpredictable . . . . She’d seen it herself during her week in the library, and it was one of the things that she liked best.

“Once, for instance, an old man had come in, pulled a book of the shelf, and read a poem to himself. Tears had streamed down his face, but he’d been smiling. When he finished, he’d unclipped his bow tie and placed it on the top of the book as he’d put it back on the shelf. Unpredictable, all right.” 

from Leeva at Last, Sarah Pennypacker

This one.

Sr. Dorcee, belovedLeave a comment

I’m reading a children’s book called Leeva at Last. There’s a part where she’s visiting a library for the first time and exploring it with Harry, who is a temporary substitute librarian for his aunt who has damaged her knees.

“‘Aunt Pauline is pretty unhappy’.”

“‘She misses the books,’ Leeva guessed.

“‘No, I bring her books,’ Harry said. ‘It’s matching them up with readers she misses so much. Handing exactly the right book to the right person at he right time and saying, “This one.”‘”

That is me to a T.  I find such happiness in doing just that.