Sunday, September 29, 2013

There is a sacredness in tears

More beautiful days… If it weren’t for the golden yellow of the fields, and the rusty orange fringes on the trees we could be convinced that it is summer. We have to remember not to take these days for granted, like we often do in the summer, but instead savour and rejoice! (if only my grey mood didn’t make it difficult to do so for more than an instance or two).

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The three otters were back yesterday morning – perhaps there is still one or two fish left to tempt them. I can’t begrudge them though as they seem to like playing in the deep pond. The other waterways nearby are quite shallow, so I wonder how they swim in them.

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This time of year we have fields of blue asters. Unfortunately I haven’t figured out my camera enough to get the purplish blue to really show up. More practice is required.

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The vultures were circling again  yesterday. I had my camera in hand – this was the best shot. I do have a few with three in the frame, but there are trees and other distractions. I liked the way the bird stood out against the blue September sky.

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I got an email, and then a phone call from my sister this afternoon. They were on their way back home after taking my niece Nissa’s pony to the vet… the news was bad and he had to be put down. Jack has been the perfect pony for Nissa – he could go from being ridden in the back 40, to pony club games, to jumping competitions. He loved being brushed and fussed over – perfect for an 11 year old animal crazy girl.

My heart cries for her. It is so hard to lose a treasured friend, and while people will say it is only an animal, it is animals that we sometimes let more deeply into our hearts. And for an 11 year old girl whose best friend is Jack it can only be harder. I remember being the same age when my cat was fatally hit by a car. I cried for days/weeks/months… and I still cry if I hear the Peter, Paul and Mary song “Puff the Magic Dragon”.

 

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I just got off the phone with Nissa, Shenna and my sister Kirsten. It was impossible not to cry with them, and also to cry with the frustration of not being there to hug and hold them all – NZ is just too far away.

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Now… Mr. Naughty snuck off yesterday afternoon, most likely into the cow pasture… I had been planning on giving them all a bath, but was procrastinating… It didn’t take me long to get the shampoo out when I caught sight of Spike – Kabira and Bella, you have him to thank for it!

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.

Washington Irving