Tonight we had a wonderful Shabbat dinner. This means that there were no big emotional disasters, no huge catastrophes (like a burned dish), little bickering and peace mostly reigned. We'd planned to go to services at Temple, but I had a small sore throat, Tom was tired from dealing with bills and bringing order into chaos, and best of all Mother Nature/G-d intervened.
We got snow! Perfect timing - right as we were finishing our meal, sitting in the warm candle-light, the most gorgeous soft light flakes came in droves from the sky. We made our way out, fascinated at the sheer beauty. We walked and laughed and children (and maybe Tom) squealed.
Tom is still out in it, Patrick finally got past his pre-teen aloofness and is throwing snowballs as I type. Gwyneth is finishing up a short snowman, with a baby carrot nose.
Somehow it feels like home tonight. As if all the months of being here were just prelude to dancing in the snow, being here but unsettled, and now we belong in some small way.
There are still plenty of boxes to unpack and lots to give away. There are decisions of what goes where and whether to buy this sweet little home. But that will come. Tonight we bless our home, thank G-d for our food and wine, bless the children and each other, and make our way.
We wonder about all the millions of people affected by the waves, ocean's fierce taking of lives and homes on the other side of the world. Those who bear such sorrow we can't forget or push away. Mothers with arms aching empty. Men who weep in the darkness of loss. Children dazed and terrified of even puddles.
That so many lives would be lost in the salty sea is too painful to bear. If the sea is a womb to Mother Earth, what small paths we walk upon her incomprehensible grace.
We had planned as a family to give to various causes this year - the penguins, the animals (G just wants to take care of all of them), the rainforest, the Democrats and other needy species. But instead, like so many others we reach out with the currency of hope in the only way we can. May it be enough, may it get there soon enough, and may it reach the injured - all of them - without adding more suffering in the chaos. How desperately we pray.
First the shock, then denial, then grieving, and eventually healing, and it's all mixed up with water - snow or waves, and salty tears. Thanks giving and crushing pain. May it all be for a blessing.
v
Posted by Vicki at January 7, 2005 08:36 PM