Footprints

Sometimes in the middle of a day, in the middle of a routine, I look at myself in the mirror - maybe putting lotion on my face (which I do after lotioning my elbows, after squeegee-ing the shower, after...), thinking, is this really what life is? maintaining, so the next generation can maintain? Will this day-after-day life flow for the next 20 or 30 years, until we find our routines have morphed into staying alive another day in some facility?

I have color coded my calendar, with "maintenance" activities in purple so that I can keep those blocks below 50%. They keep creeping in, and they deaden me.

And then I hear my 78-year-old mother talk about her busy life, full of creating and growing and connecting, still building into her community.

And then I get a text from my youngest, who spent part of his day holding eye contact with a sweet, ill young cat until the cat breathed his last. His heart is wide, his tenderness strong, his thinking is for the people (and animals) in his world. What gifts of perception and love.

I think of our other children:

one in Green Bay who spends his days building into hospital patients (and staff) as their chaplain, as well as being alive to his family and community. - his gift of attention and quiet action

one in Chattanooga who has built community everywhere he goes, who is heading into a new one holding tight to the values he is forming, starting a PhD in Economics as a choice to be present in the world - his gift of sight and heart

one in Sheboygan who comes alive when she cares for individuals, feathering her nest and cheerfully serving the least of these - her gift of grace and sunlight

one in Memphis who has fiercely loved her students and seen that love sometimes is not enough, so off she courageously goes to law school - her gift of tenacity out of fragility

one in Seattle finding her voice and her feet, changing her life to become a teacher, choosing to bring hope and strength - her gift of rootedness and laughter

I look at these adults, choosing life, choosing love, choosing to be in the world. 

Whatever the big picture of it all might be (and yes, I have thoughts about that also), these are the footprints of men and women joining in the creation of their worlds, with myriad, unknowable reverberations rippling from them like spider floss.

I am emboldened to again choose life, choose love, choose to be in the world, grateful for company.

With lotioned elbows.