It is good people who make good places. (Anna Sewell)
I study this photo taken in a local park, and remember. Full bright blue sky. Sunglasses. Dark shadows with clear edges. And a day with my granddaughter, Ella.
Sure, light exists whether it is glaring or not, hidden behind gray clouds. However, cold wind, rain, as well as snow flurries steal the spring I expected this year.
Cold hasn’t taken away pleasant moments.
I had a delightful evening with my sister-in-law and brother-in-law last night as I served one more cold-weather meal—pork chops and sauerkraut.
The antics of my grandchildren in my tiny office also bless my work space. The children leave a grand mess. But the chaos also brings suggestions for further stories as well as deep, sweet memories.
Last week at an exercise class I fumbled, as usual, through the transitions from one move to another. At least the continuous action healed the chill in my bones. Then I noticed a woman to my left in the row in front of me. She lifted one foot perhaps an inch off the ground, and then she raised the other, minutes later, while the rest of the class hopped to the right and then to the left. The lady smiled as if satisfied simply to be present. I wondered how old she was.
I guessed ninety. And discovered after class I was right when the instructor came to her and introduced herself.
“I’ll be back,” the older woman said.
And I hope she does return. She reminds me that internal warmth comes from far more than transient circumstances. Maybe someday I can learn that getting-all-the-external-parts-right isn’t the most satisfying life goal.
I look again at the picture of my shadow. I know it represents me. But I also know it reflects only a stretched-out shape created by an angle of light. One that can alter at any moment.
I pray to learn from young people like Ella. And older people like a surprise visitor in an exercise class.
Thank you, life, for today. In whatever shape it appears.
terrypetersen 