Sunday, April 22, 2007

My dearest God,

Sometimes you just have to return to your roots to remember who you are. Following the retreat I visited the graves of my parents and grandparents. I knelt by Mother and Daddy's grave, moving my fingers across their names etched in marble. Tears suddenly welled in my eyes. How can they be gone, I wondered in my mind. How can they really be gone? Not so long ago we sat as a family at the old harvest table, laughing, eating, and playing cards. Mother died seven years ago. Daddy four. I wished I had brought flowers. Didn't think of it. I will the next time.

Then I went over to Grandpa and Grandma's plot. Again I knelt down, touching the stone, the names. You've been gone so long, I told Grandma. Twenty five years. Two days ago during a spiritual exercise I wrote about your faith, how it helped give shape to my own. You still live inside me.

Violets grow on my farmer grandparents's small piece of ground in the tiny cemetery. Fitting. Grandma grew flowers, the old fashioned kind, peonies, iris, lily of the valley.

Driving away I realized once again where I came from, who nourished, nurtured, and taught me. My tears dried up as I savored the memories of my past. On this gorgeous sunshiny day I breathed in the air of the present, acknowledging that someday I'll return here to stay.

Life is filled
with experiences
of highs and lows.
Beautiful memories
of your loving presence.
Past, present and future
live together
bringing peace, joy
and contentment.
I give thanks for them all,
for in the past and present,
I see you so clearly,
in the mountain tops
and in the deepest valleys
where I have visited often.
And because I know you
wherever I am
I am confident
I will see you in my future.
I am blessed.

Love always, Andrea