by Gwendolyn M Plano
This has been a year of sorrows. Terrorist attacks, global warming, racial divides, and violence in our streets. No one has been spared. At times the weight of pain has so burdened our hearts that we have not known what to do.
There have been nights that I have awakened with tears that hid during the daylight hours: tears for the children who cry out why, tears for loved ones who have said their final goodbyes, tears for our beautiful earth that begs for life. Sometimes the silence of night frees my heart to weep, and this has been a week of midnight eruptions for me.
My husband and I celebrated Thanksgiving with family in California. Driving across the plains, deserts and mountains, we marveled at the natural beauty around us. The drive home was similarly extraordinary. Even so, we eagerly looked forward to resting in the comfort of all things “home.”
When we arrived, however, our dreams were shattered. The water filter beneath our kitchen sink had split from metal fatigue, sending a continuous deluge of water throughout the home, destroying everything it reached. The remains of floors, walls, and some ceilings are now pieces inside a large dumpster resting in our driveway. There are no words for this type of violation.
A magazine cover softens my sadness. It is a painting by Nellie Kranz Edwards entitled, Mother of Life. In this image, Mary is kneeling, adoring the unborn child she carries. She does not know where her child will be born or how he shall die. She is simply in awe of the precious miracle she holds. When I think of this image, I let go of fears of what might be; and, I focus instead on the miracle of life.
We all carry preciousness within the aching body we call our own. And you, dear reader, are precious to me. May abundant blessings fill your heart and home, and may we all experience the miracle Mary discovered so many years ago.
There have been nights that I have awakened with tears that hid during the daylight hours: tears for the children who cry out why, tears for loved ones who have said their final goodbyes, tears for our beautiful earth that begs for life. Sometimes the silence of night frees my heart to weep, and this has been a week of midnight eruptions for me.
My husband and I celebrated Thanksgiving with family in California. Driving across the plains, deserts and mountains, we marveled at the natural beauty around us. The drive home was similarly extraordinary. Even so, we eagerly looked forward to resting in the comfort of all things “home.”
When we arrived, however, our dreams were shattered. The water filter beneath our kitchen sink had split from metal fatigue, sending a continuous deluge of water throughout the home, destroying everything it reached. The remains of floors, walls, and some ceilings are now pieces inside a large dumpster resting in our driveway. There are no words for this type of violation.
A magazine cover softens my sadness. It is a painting by Nellie Kranz Edwards entitled, Mother of Life. In this image, Mary is kneeling, adoring the unborn child she carries. She does not know where her child will be born or how he shall die. She is simply in awe of the precious miracle she holds. When I think of this image, I let go of fears of what might be; and, I focus instead on the miracle of life.
We all carry preciousness within the aching body we call our own. And you, dear reader, are precious to me. May abundant blessings fill your heart and home, and may we all experience the miracle Mary discovered so many years ago.
 "Mother of Life" by Nellie Kranz Edwards |  My kitchen |
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