Love and Christmas (Neighbours…)

The fourth and final week of advent begins on the Sunday before Christmas. Depending on where in the week Christmas falls, the fourth week can be the shortest week of all.  This year it was as long as it could possibly be – a full week to reflect on the theme of love – made (seemingly) longer by the “gift” of snow received at the very beginning of the week.  After three other city-paralyzing snow storms in just a two-week period, the snow was really starting to pile up…

…and when life gives you snow, on top of snow, on top of snow… you shovel.  We headed out on that snowy Monday morning with shovels in hand to discover another great gift of snow: neighbours.  Six families from our tiny cul-de-sac came out in force to work together that morning, including one dad who was just moving in that very day.  Really.

I shovelled my heart out, starting in on one neighbour’s driveway while he helped to fix the snow blower of another.  Across the street a dad worked to clear the outdoor ice rink he has built for the kids to play on, and another friend pitched in for hours to clear the common areas even though he his own driveway was not affected.  Neighbours.

“Love your neighbour as yourself.” (Mark 12:31)

Where would we be without the kindness of neighbours?  The simple gestures, the unplanned acts, the selfless thoughtfulness that happens every day in tiny unseen ways – that is real love.  The easiest way to have love, the greatest way to give love, the only way to create love is with kindness.  Shovelling for hours, thinking these thoughts, I laughed a little bit to myself at a connection that was foreshadowing at its finest.  This year, for our annual Christmas card, Mr. Martini selected this quote:

“Kindness is like snow: it beautifies everything it covers.” (Kahlil Gibran)

Those of you who live locally and have been shovelling out there just as much may not be laughing, but in a very real way the snow (and the many littles kindnesses that it sparked) has brought some of us together. Kindness is love, and in the week before Christmas I saw it flourish all around me in many little ways.  Now that Christmas has come and gone (ushered out on Boxing Day with another snowfall) I am still thinking about the love and kindness that has meant a great deal to me this year.  Through all of the challenges and loss there has been kindness, and that has made all the difference…

“There are three things in human life that are important: the first is to be kind; the second is to be kind; and the third is to be kind.” (Henry James)

(I have read that Henry James spoke these words in response to a question from his brother William’s son, but my own son tells me that this quote is from Mother Teresa… thoughts?)

Love and kindness are discussed at length here at the Martini house, and often philosophically, as Miss G. approaches the “Age of Enlightenment”. She asks insightful and deeply empathetic questions about human relationships and our place in the world, and challenges the adults around her especially to be better people every day.  In response to her deep and thoughtful questions, she received this letter from a guest in our house on Christmas Eve:

“Love is very important to me, to my work, and most of all to our world.  This love, in giving and sharing, has created a special kind of magic that indeed is very real.  It comes from the hearts of people who love and care for others, and casts a glow in the world wherever it is needed most.  When people feel the love of Christmas magic at work in their lives they are able to do better for themselves and for others.” (Mr. C.)

Love.  It is the simplest and purest way to express the best of our own self, and to care for others at their most human.  And really, it is the essence of Christmas: divine love comes to earth in vulnerable human form.  It is protected and nurtured by family and friends, and eventually rises above human jealousy, cynicism, anger… but that part of the story comes later.  For now, we will think about love and the place it has in our own lives as we go about our daily work of weathering the storm…

“It is love that fashions us into the fullness of our being: who we love, how we love, why we love, and that we love which ultimately shapes us.  It is love, before all and after all, in the beginning and the end, that creates us.  Today, remembering this, let yourself acknowledge and remember the moments, events, and people who bring you, even momentarily, into a true experience of love, and allow the rest, the inescapable mundanities of life, like a cloud, to very quietly drift away.” (Daphne Rose Kingma, read from our book of daily gratitude in the week of love…)

Just… love.

Gaudete (Joy!)

The third week of advent – the midway point, just finishing now – is meant to remind us of the joys all around us. Joy comes from many places: the holiday joys as we prepare for our celebration of Christmas, the seasonal joys (strangely crisp and snowy here in the Pacific Northwest) and the daily joys – the little things- that connect our daily life to the magic of Christmas…

We spent our week of joy in a whirlwind of joyful activities – Christmas parties, family dinners, an amazing evening Christmas scavenger hunt and lights with friends, baking, delivering and exchanging packaged treats with people who have touched our lives with kindness and generosity this year…

“Find out where joy resides, and give it a voice well beyond singing, for to miss the joy is to miss all…” (Robert Louis Stevenson)

It has been a long journey from last year, when our hearts were heavy and joy felt so far away…but we have continued to live our daily lives with the belief that underneath the uncertainty and sadness there was a joy that could sustain us.

“Joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy, and keep choosing it every day.” (Henri J.M. Nouen)

Every day.  In times of trouble – in our own lives, and in the world around us – more than ever we need to reach out to the little joys and hold on tight. We need to find comfort and sustenance there, and then send joy back out into the world, wherever it may be harder to come by.

“Consider it pure joy whenever you face trials, because you know it produces perseverance…” (James 1:2-3)

Where are you finding joy in your daily life?

Peace

Advent, week two.

During this second week we are reflecting on the theme of peace. It seems to come right when we need it the most – December can be the exact opposite of peaceful!  At the Martini house we have been making an effort to find peaceful moments as often as we can, but sometimes the rush of daily life ( a minor blizzard, or two…) gets in the way.

One peaceful family habit we have tried to focus on since October is a meaningful moment of gratitude before dinner every night. We started taking turns reading out of an old family book of daily graces (“A Grateful Heart” – thanks Mimi) and the tradition quickly became so popular with every family member that we sometimes have to have multiple readings.

Day by day the different quotes, prayers and readings seem to echo the significance and concern of our current daily life.  When my turn came last Saturday, on the eve of the “peace” candle, this is what I read:

“By being attentive, by learning to listen (or recovering the natural capacity to listen) we can find our self engulfed in such happiness that it cannot be explained: the happiness of being at one with everything in that hidden ground of Love for which there can be no explanations… May we all grow in grace and peace, and not neglect the silence that is printed in the centre of our being.  It will not fail us.” (Thomas Merton)

The imagery in this passage (“silence printed at the centre of our being”) was so striking to me that I spent some of my Sunday afternoon reading more about Thomas Merton, and discovering a bit of a kindred spirit.  While many aspects of his life and writing are fascinating, the part that connected most with my thoughts about peace was his exploration of the depth of human experience and wealth of perspective available through a collaborative understanding of various faith traditions.

His philosophy is not just inspiring – in our current culture it is essential.  How can we be at peace with ourselves, how can we create peace in our world, when we are overwhelmed with fear and misunderstanding?  Even as we reconnect with our own spiritual roots and traditions we can draw on the mystical traditions of other religions in order to better understand ourselves, as well as our relationship with others and with God (or the “reality that is present to us and in us: call it Being…Silence.” (Thomas Merton – again – brilliant…)

 

Merton’s idea of peace in silence reminded me of another quote I return to often, from Max Ehrmann’s Desiderata:

“Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.”

Two weeks ago, when coming back from a school field trip with Miss G., I sat with a friend on the bus to the ferry and talked about how we find time for peace in our busy grown-up lives.  “You have to go to it,” she reminded me, emphatically.  “It can’t find you unless you make time and space.”  In her life peace comes in the silence of nature, and she makes time to seek it out every day…

Seeking out a peaceful moment, a peaceful thought or a peaceful time in this modern world is increasingly a challenge.  Being a peace seeker, a peace keeper, a peace maker, has become almost counter-cultural.  (Inspired by another amazing article about Jonathan Lear’s book Radical Hope: Ethics in the Face of Cultural Devastation.)  Peace, however, is imprinted at the centre of our being.  We must not neglect it, and it will not fail us.  Where do you go to find peace?  Is it in the silence of nature, like my friend from the bus, or in the transcendence of music?  Is it in the warmth and comfort of home with your loved ones, or in the rush of energy that comes with dancing, running, sledding, flying?  Can you get yourself there today?

 

“You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.  And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.  Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.” (Max Ehrmann)

(Art by primary students from Norma Rose Point School)

Hope

Here we are again in the first week of advent.  A new beginning; a chance to think about the changing seasons, the year behind us, and to learn from what was, what is or what may be…

Our family tradition is to light a candle for each week of advent, and for me the first candle has always represented hope.  One year ago, when we lit the candle of hope, we were hoping for so many things.  One year later, in a different time and a different place, we have a new perspective on what hope means for our family.  Over the year, as the seasons have shifted, we have thought a lot about hope… for ourselves, for our loved ones, and for the world we live in every day.

“All human wisdom is summed up in two words: wait and hope.” (Alexandre Dumas)

It has been a challenging year for us, for many reasons, and I know we are not alone in this.  And yet, through all the challenges, there is hope.  On Sunday evening, when we lit the first advent candle, I thought of the hopes that have sustained me and now I hope to share them with you…

My hope from the past is to carry forward the spirit of the women who inspire me with their lives and passion, who died knowing they lived their own best lives, who passed the torch of creativity, love and light, and who live in my heart everyday.  I’m grateful that they shared their gifts with me, and love that I can pass that legacy on to others.

My hope in the present comes from my children, who fill my days with questions and curiosity.  They live for joy in every season – laughing, growing, bubbling wonder and awe – and have carried my tired spirit through this year in particular.  Miss G, who read Anne Frank’s diary just last Spring, has a gift for being insightful and for respecting others.  Her ability to bring empathy and compassion with her every single day makes my heart sing.  G. Jr., only in the first grade, has charmed his way into the hearts of everyone he meets.  His happiness at the little things is completely contagious – spiders, bottle caps, interesting clouds – through his eyes the whole wide world is one hopeful opportunity after another.

My hope for the future feels more uncertain, but I imagine it is similar to many of yours: for kindness, empathy, understanding and compassion to reach further than skepticism, criticism, negativity and fear.  Just like the light of that first candle dispels some of the late fall gloom, hope can shine through the darkness that sometimes obscures the better parts of humanity.  Don’t let darkness convince you that you are lost or alone – so many of us are waiting with hope inside.  Whatever it is that brings you hope – hold on tight.

“Where there’s hope, there’s life.  It fills us with fresh courage and makes us strong again.” (Anne Frank)

 

 

Pieces (Places)…

Years ago I read a book (I think it was Amnesia by Douglas Cooper) that inspired the way I think about place. I especially remember one passage that suggested every physical place holds the memory of the people, objects, events and emotions that have ever filled it. 

 

I can think of many places where this rings true for me. The apartment my grandmother lived in most of my life has long been demolished (“little boxes…”) but when I drive down the old street I feel strongly the spirit of that space. 

  

The neighbourhood I work in has evolved over the years – it used to be Middlegate and now it’s called “Highgate” to reflect its elevated status – but the spirit of the old 1970s bowling alley hangout still seeps through the sidewalk cracks here and there. 

  

Driving past an old east Vancouver park that was updated years ago I think of the welded steel-pipe rocketship that transformed the space for my own childhood – how many other children travelled with it to imaginary places?
  

I think about visiting my husbands Nonna and her hundreds of years old Italian stone house. How many layers of history are built up there, or in the back alleys of Venice or the mountains of Switzerland?

  

Thinking about the places that have meant something to me, and the people who make and occupy those spaces, has transformed the seed of that idea of place. I am imagining that every physical place I have passed through, lingered in, been inspired or influenced by has left an impression on me somehow. 
  

As much as the places are layers of emotion and experience, I am a patchwork of places. Each piece has been influenced by people and events – my whos and wheres are wrapped up in eachother and without them I wouldn’t be me…

  

Until I was 9 or so I moved quite often with my family. I was used to changing places and carried a sense of wanderlust with me as I grew into myself. I left home (and changed cities) at 17, and continued to move from place to place for more than ten years. My grandmother declared me the “moving-est girl”, and refused to keep updating my status in her address book… 

I was collecting places. 
  

Ironically, although I was voted “most likely to travel the farthest” at the end of high school, my collection of places has circled back on itself. Every day, sometimes more than once, I drive past several of my former schools and many of the other places I have lived, worked, and played…

  

In some cases the places have multiple layers of memory. The childhood/school years/adult versions of myself that echo through the places I pass through every day remind me how the layers of life and experience of place have brought texture to my now. Without the time spent in each of those places (even the painfully difficult ones) I wouldn’t have a complete picture today.
 

As my path continues to wander and wind, I know the places I have been will always hold a piece of me – I have left a layer of love and learning on my way. And as I go, I add the love and learning left by others to my own …

Welcome Home…

  “Do you ever stop feeling sad when someone dies?”

Miss G. asked this question of me not long ago, and in doing so she opened up feelings that I hadn’t realized I was trying not to share. As she often does, she sensed something deeper than words and too complicated for her age , but her question made me think a lot about how we share our experiences of loss and sadness…

  

So many of us have lived through the death of a friend or family member and felt irreversibly changed by the experience. Four months ago, faced with the loss of a great and inspiring friend, I knew that life would not be the same for me. The feelings of shock and emptiness have weighed heavily on my thoughts and actions, and even regular tasks have taken more effort than they should…

I miss her every single day. I miss her laugh, her advice, her creativity, her enthusiasm, her style and optimism and certainty about things…

And yet. The sadness of missing, the inactivity of mourning would have made my amazing friend crazy. That girl was a do-er. She set her mind on following and fulfilling her dreams, and in doing so shared passion and joy for living everywhere she went.

When she wasn’t inspiring learning in the the littlest people she was designing welcoming places for all the rest – creating spaces for people to be themselves, to live their own dreams, to love their families and to build their own futures…

“Just Home and Love! the words are small

Four little letters unto each;

And yet you will not find in all

The wide and gracious range of speech

Two more so tenderly complete:

When angels talk in Heaven above,

I’m sure they have no words more sweet

Than Home and Love.”

(Robert W. Service)

 

Home is the people or places that bring you love and comfort, and help you bring love and comfort to others.  Whatever it looks like for you, wherever home is for you, you can fill it with the kind of welcome you want the world to be full of.

“We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place, we stay there, even though we go away. And there are things in us that we can find again only by going back there.”
(Pascal Mercier, Night Train to Lisbon)

  

It was her mission to create places where people would be comfortable and inspired. For those of us left behind, we have that mission to carry on – I can let the shock and emptiness weigh me down, or I can spend my energy on making something out of it – wherever and whoever is home to you, you can do it too. Make yourself welcome, open yourself to others, and build…

She would be proud.

In Between…

There are certain times and places in life that are neither one thing nor the other. In between seasons, in between jobs, in between awake and dreaming, in between childhood and adult life…

Coming through these in-betweens always gives me a slightly unhinged feeling; the surreal rearranging of place and personality goes through a period of “unsettled” before becoming something new. Nothing is familiar, there are no landmarks or keystones, there is a lingering feeling of discord.

  

I began this post in between seasons – in that wet grey time that isn’t winter and isn’t spring. I kept thinking about it as I travelled with my family – in between work and holidays, in between countries, in between states, in between city and country landscapes, in between ever changing weather patterns…

…but now I have come to an in-between that goes well beyond unsettling. In between life, and death.

I have lost an amazing friend. Even though I knew it was coming, even though I thought I was prepared, I am in between acceptance and overwhelming grief. I might be here awhile.

    
There is no easy way to be in this place.  I am wallowing in sadness – for her beautiful girls, for the man who loves her, for her younger brother and his family too, and selfishly for myself and my own family as we have to live in this world with a little less light in her absence.   

An amazing friend. In her last letter to me she noted the in-between herself:

“It’s funny how certain life changes make us appreciate what we have/ had before it’s too late. It’s good that they come our way sometimes.”

The moments that give us pause, that make us uncomfortable, unhappy, unwilling… Those are the moments that can really open our eyes to ourselves and our possibilities. They’re like windows into or out of reality – a place to change perspective and focus.

  

In those places in-between we have the opportunity to transform. As quoted in my favourite film, just a few seconds are so much more than waiting:

“We Breathe. We Pulse. We Regenerate. Our hearts beat. Our minds create. Our souls ingest. Thirty-seven seconds, well used, is a lifetime.” (Mr. Edward Magorium)

  

In between sunrise and sunset there are hours filled with choice and opportunity. There is life to be lived. There are people to be loved and helped. There is laughter, there is joy, there is kindness. Use your in between – it’s everything…

“The moment in between what you once were, and who you are now becoming, is where the dance of life really takes place.” (Barbara de Angelis)

Oh Margaret; How I miss you…
 

In Search of Snow…

I have lived my whole life in the land of frequent rain, and while I love the blue/green/grey landscape with my whole heart there are times when even I get sentimental for other weather…

A few years ago, when she was quite small, Miss G. cried inconsolably when we put away the Christmas decorations before she had seen actual snow.  It seems that snow, in particular, is emotionally tied to our winter celebrations.  There are pictures of snow on Christmas cards, sparkly snow in globes, and snow filled landscapes in almost every holiday film we watched.  Here in Vancouver, though, no snow.  This year, to avoid the blues that can follow a green Christmas we promised to whiten up with a trip to the mountains in search of some real snow…

We were spellbound on the switchbacks up the mountain by the blanketed city lit up below us…

  … then outfitted with snowshoes, poles, snacks and many (many!) layers of woolens we found ourselves a little winter wonderland along the Cypress Snowshoe Trail on Hollyburn Mountain.
I have wanted to do this for so long, and am so glad we finally got around… Beautiful, bright and so much fun for all of us (even dragging G. Jr. up the tiny inclines by pole…)

Snow Fort

It all starts
with the quality,
the density, the size
of the snow bank.
True now, true forty years ago;
it is the critical ingredient.
We piled it high, over successive storms,
waiting not so patiently
for the right time. The right mix
of wet and cold
Snowman snow.
Digging, with shovels, with hands
creating a dome, an inner sanctum
interconnected tunnels, in and out
meeting in the middle
all within the pile of snow.

(Raymond A. Foss)

One Small Moment (Joy…)

The third week of advent is traditionally the week of Joy – that moment when we have come halfway toward our Christmas celebration and pause to see the beauty all around us.  We lit the candle last Sunday but I hesitated to write about it as I was nowhere near a joyful state.  I was cranky from not sleeping and from tasks at hand, and short-tempered with the (perceived) shortcomings of others, and so I delayed until my mood improved.  We bought, put up and decorated our tree in stages over the first half of the week, and the joy in my children started to be contagious.  I thought maybe I would write about the meaning and the memories attached to the ornaments we love to unpack each year – each one is a symbol of a joyful moment we have shared… 

  
 But then the worst.  Devastating news from a dear and treasured friend – beloved by all who know her and irreplaceable for her many and generously shared gifts; the sudden return of a serious illness that has thrown all thoughts of joy into complete chaos…

Alternating between anger and tremendous sadness, I can do nothing but feel helpless and pray…  Part of the time I am angry at myself for my selfishness, and part of the time my heart is breaking for the relatives who are doing everything just to keep going right now, in the face of Christmas cheer raging all around them.  The deepest empathy, a gift my friend is so blessed with, hardly penetrates the shock and fear and sadness; how can you feel Christmas in the midst of pain?

How do we feel anything in the face of darkness and suffering? 

  
 And yet… I can’t just sit here and wallow in the darkness and despair.  My beloved friend, if she had the strength, would tell me so I’m sure.  Life is riddled with sadness, but even through the sadness there are smiles.  Even in the winter there is a promise of the spring, and even deep in advent there is joy…

“Deep in their roots all flowers keep the light.” (Theodore Roethke)

My amazing friend, with her gracious spirit, shares so much of herself with me and with many: her love of life and laughter in spite of the many struggles that she has faced, and her endurance of all manner of frustrating difficulties without judgement, without criticism and without complaint.  She finds beauty in the ugliest castaway things, she brings life to places that have been ignored and neglected, and she makes note of humour when all seems to be lost… She has a powerful, joyful spirit.

  

“Every day we should hear at least one little song, read one good poem, see one exquisite picture and, if possible, speak a few sensible words.” (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)

Facing the increasing darkness of the winter horizon as day by day we are still losing light, facing the scarier darkness of illness and worse, I imagine what she might say.  Like Goethe, she relishes the little things. She has found joy in giving of herself, and in the joy of others. If I have shown love and hope and mercy it is in part because I learned from her. Her joy has helped me follow that path, and through all the selfish anger and sadness that is clawing at my heart right now I will dig deep for what joy there is to be had in giving of myself to others – one small moment at a time…

“Only those who give can know joy.” (Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe)

Keepsakes…

A week ago I wrote about the way a friend is grieving the loss of her mother. I am deeply moved by the love she pours out every day for her Ma, and I was honoured that she allowed me to share her very personal journey. The responses to that post showed me how many of us have experienced that same sense of loss, and how valuable it is to celebrate the life of the loved one we are missing…

This picture is of my grandmother, who died (at the age of 95) ten years ago. I still miss her every day.

Bami kept this frame next to her bed – the inset photo is one she cut out of a school photo from her own childhood. It reminded her of the little girl she had been and the place she had come from… Her keepsake has become mine.

Thinking about the keepsakes we carry made me strongly aware of the little things full of memories that I have saved – transferred from home to home through my nomadic years:

Bami’s sherry glasses – used for Bristol Cream on special occasions…

…and her Royal Albert china (“Blossomtime”) which reminds me of the springtime view from her old apartment on McBride Boulevard.  We never use the set (pink dishes aren’t always in season) but I can’t bear to part with it. The blossom trees are still there along the boulevard, but the view has been filled up with overpasses and billboards.  I keep the china cups and plates in the same cabinet that Bami used – a tiny permanent spring.

My favourite dishes in the world: T.G.Green and Co.’s Cornish Blue kitchen ware (with the occasional piece of Irish Carragaline mixed in) which decorated Bami’s kitchen my whole life. I loved to look at them as a child, and loved even more when Bami would use them to serve up flapjacks or grilled cheese from the heavy cast iron pans in her tiny green kitchen… This blue remains my favourite colour – the fact that it is used widely in the school where I work makes me happy everyday.

The dishes were originally passed down to my cousin Kim who thoughtfully gave them to me when she heard how much I loved them. Every time I find a random piece to buy at rummage sales or flea markets my heart leaps just a little…

Bami’s love of kitchen is one of my great inheritances. The smells and noises of a working kitchen comfort me endlessly – I have worked in many (coffee shops, caterers, restaurants, b&b’s…) and love the joy that comes from feeding others. In tiny apartment kitchens I have cooked turkeys and tenderloins to feed family and friends – if Bami cooked for us in her closet sized kitchen I could do the same!  I have also inherited her brand loyalties for ingredients, particularly when it comes to baking.  If it was Bami’s favourite it is my favourite too.

Bami’s greatest talent was with a needle and thread.  Sewing during the day (and knitting at night) she made beautiful clothes for herself, her children, her grandchildren and great grandchildren. She made quilts, coats (with bemberg lining), dresses, pants and seemingly endless sweaters… I have some of her creations in my closet to this day and wear them often, but the most sentimental keepsakes are the fat quarters for quilting (which I don’t do but can’t let go), the wooden spools of thread, and the torn old yellow envelope containing custom made sweater labels…

  

I also love the pewter shoe shaped pin cushion she passed on to me – one of a huge decorative shoe collection that she gave to my cousin Mark – which represents another hobby we have in common…

Bami loved shoes and clothes, which is part of what drove her passion for sewing. Having little money meant no means to acquire a fashionable wardrobe, but her thrifty ingenuity served her fashion sense well. She only used the best materials and made classic things to last. Her greatest luxuries were perfume (Pavlova) and jewelry – pearls, pearls, pearls were her trademark accessory. (Naturally, she was born in June.) Even into her 90s she read and discussed the fashion news – creative construction, quality materials and modern classics always received her approval.

Some of her jewelry was passed on to my mother who has in turn passed it on to me. Bami would have loved to see the way her classic pieces are still gorgeous today in a completely new way.

These brooches are resting on one of Bami’s handkerchiefs – another essential accessory (besides the white gloves) that her handbag was never without. My cousin Shannon found the stash when we were cleaning out Bami’s apartment and gave one to each grand daughter at her memorial service.

Bami was never religious, but she was always spiritual. Years before she died she gave me one of the most amazing and fragile keepsakes I could imagine… Her own mothers bible.

The fact that Bami was one of 11 children makes it quite amazing that it came into our branch of the family at all… The date 1930, when Bami was 20) makes me wonder if my great-gran gave it to her daughter as a keepsake in turn when she married and moved three provinces west in 1933…

The bible is filled with clippings from newspapers, newsletters, magazines and cookbooks. I don’t know who clipped them, but I have left them all in their original places… Some of them are funny and some of them are sad, but my favourite is this prayer of gratitude which resonates with me as much today as ever…

 
I miss my grandmother every day. I remember clearly the soapy smell of her apartment, the powdery softness of her cheek, the texture of the silk pillow she always slept with (so as to preserve her weekly hairdo…)

The endless snippets of memories are not nearly enough to fill the space in my life that she left, little by little, as the Alzheimer’s took her away. The keepsakes and photos can not contain the spirit of the woman who changed her own life in a time when women just didn’t…  But it’s not just about keepsakes, and it’s not just about memories.  Last night in church the choir sang out her favourite hymn – Amazing Grace- and hearing it filled my heart with joy.

“Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail,

And mortal life shall cease;

I shall profess, within the veil,

A life of joy and peace.”

The space left in me when Bami died may never disappear but it can be filled to the brim with love, and that helps. Every keepsake carries the same message: find what brings love and joy into your life.  Hold on to the love in every moment. Be grateful for it, and share it.