…ideas of a big family, siblings for my two, a long “career” as a mother of young children, lazy chats at playgroups, an easy social network of ready-made “mum” friends…
Balancing contentment with longing; acceptance with hope; perfecting the tightrope walk of living with decidedly uncontrollable unknowns amidst a present that holds so many joys too wonderful to be missed.
Today, all I can think of is all the little children.
The ones I see week after week whose greatest achievement each day, and sometimes only achievement, is to simply get to school. Little children who got themselves up out of bed, packed their own lunch, found their own clothes to wear and possibly left the house without someone to even say goodbye to them.
No warm hugs, no kisses, no ‘love you!’ Whispered into a grateful ear. Just a parent in bed, sleeping in or sleeping off the night before or perhaps simply too weary of life itself to gather the wherewithal to get up and keep on keeping on.
Gazing round my garden in the warmth of an autumns evening with the weight of these children’s woes pressing heavy, my thoughts drift to seeds.
Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty if our strength endures; yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away. Psalm 90:10
I attended his funeral as a community member.
I did not know him personally, this strapping young man, but only of him and his young sister who attends the school I work at, and in support of her and school staff and simply as a member of the community, I attended his funeral.