So many,
And a few can cause so much
Destruction,
Then a few of us reaching out with
Love and hope can also make a
Difference in our broken world.
If a few can sully the reputation of
So many, And a few can cause so much Destruction, Then a few of us reaching out with Love and hope can also make a Difference in our broken world.
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I've been trying to make sense of
The turmoil escalating in our country. But when violence and hate are Senseless, my pursuit is impossible. Jack always liked to say there is only One race, the human one. Reconciliation won't happen until we See every human being as one of us and Not one of them. And laws won't change anything unless we Have a heart change. I pray that God will change our hearts.
Because of the virus and maintaining a
Safe distance, I've been hindered in Giving away my gospel bracelets. But today was an exception. When the two men delivered my Refrigerator, they were my prime Targets. I got acquainted with the slim bearded Fellow who was sporting lots of Tattoos. He explained the meanings of Several that were visible. His sister's name was engraved on His neck. He told me she had died, and I Sympathized, sharing that I had Lost loved ones too. One name was covered over with a Blue tinge. "When I broke up with my girlfriend, I Blotted out her name," the fellow explained. "But now we're together again." Oops! I wish we could have chatted longer, but My new refrigerator was humming along, and The two still had more deliveries. The driver was already back in the truck so I rushed out to hand the men their bracelets. "You can't leave till I give you these," I said, And I explained the good news with the Colored beads. After they left I realized that none of us had Been wearing masks. Hopefully, the only thing we passed along Were good wishes.
(A widow friend and I were talking yesterday about asking "why." I pulled up this old poem and updated it bit.)
Death. Even without a virus it's Epidemic. It's certain. It's an everyday occurrence, and Yet, each time it strikes I'm struck by The mystery of it. Why can one be living, breathing, Touching me and in a blink, be gone. Why? Why does the body I held and loved Turn cold, so quickly decay and Become fit to only bury or burn? Why? Why must I face the second or third Or fifth loss like it's my first? Why doesn't grief get easier and Shorter each time? Why doesn't practice make perfect? Why? Why, when it's inescapable, am I Still surprised when I get the call, "He's gone," and I say, "I can't believe it." Why? Why do I live from day to day as if Death will skip me? Why?
My grandson and I were on the
Same page. We were "second guessing" decisions We both had made recently. In hindsight, he wasn't so sure he Had made the best choice, and I Wasn't confident in mine. "But we did what we thought was best at The time," I told him. "And we can't Change things; so now we need to Put our doubts to rest and move on." Our foresight is always limited because The future is hidden from us. And it is helpful to look back and Learn from our choices, both the Wise and not so wise ones. But we can't allow hindsight to Prevent us from prudently praying and Planning for what lies ahead. |
Dorothy Kalb Hsu Seitzinger
Writing poetry has helped me process and express my sorrows and joys, my concerns and blessings. "Life is hard, but God is good!" Archives
December 2020
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