One World

The sounds through the house and yard are of a singuarly human variety, the sounds of work and thus the sounds of life. The morning is joyous. The sun is shining. How lucky to be in the middle of all this sustaining activity. Jim, home with Betsy and Fiona from their vacation with Jack in Germany and Italy, trudges in his rightful place behind the lawnmower. Lydia vacuums and sings hymns she has downloaded  learning them in order to sing for a certain group this weekend. The songs are ethereal in nature sung in a high, childlike voice, seemingly from a mountain top and strangely spiritual. All has fallen back into the old rythyms we are used to.

Teddy is grateful. For five days he lived alone with only visits from Cody to lighten his days, feeding him and taking him for walks. One night, our neighbor reported, during a thunder storm, Teddy howled, the loneliest sound in the world. Teddy, like me, born to the sound of humans, born to the presence of other humans, cried for rightful company.

Lydia, who helps us take care of the house, sat with me for while just now and explained to me many of the thoughts I have been having. Lydia and her husband had been faced with a frightening indebtedness, and she had turned to God. At that time she learned to have conversations with God, and because she trusted him, He was able to teach her the art of negotiation, and in her discussions with the bank she was able to negotiate a repayment without interest. Since then her relationship with Him has deepened. she discusses most of her steps with Him; they discuss options and she begins to think, to follow God’s suggestions. Now she is working to pay for her house, and to give to her church and to poor people here at home and in the world. She tells me it is returned to her fourfold . Then she says we need to remember we are not alone in this world, and put all together we are one.

I find myself wanting to make a joke, I want to say , Something like The  Three Musketeers, but I catch myself in time to stop this ungenerous and satirical remark, before I expose myself as a creature of cynicism, but still locked in a box of conventional wisdom. That is all why Betsy naturally believes that the one remaining chicken is lonely. Of course, I do not prevent myself from making fun of her and her anthropomorphic convictions. But Betsy reminds me that one chicken is part of a flock. No flock, sad chicken.

The outdoors is calling. My first job today is to see if I can’t figure out what is eating the basil and radishes, and leafy greens that didn’t get started at all. I’ll replace the basil next and the extra squashes I bought, manure plants that are getting started. After that, which at the moment sounds monumental, I’ll try to straighten where certain marauding plants, given to me by an old friend now dead, safely removed from my irritation, have been moving in on anything more delicate, standing in their way. This one world stuff is beginning to attract my attention. We all have our responsibilities. It’s clear to me that at this moment my responsibility is to get out and do something productive, prove that I belong to the world I live in.

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About dorothybloom

Well, I'm a bit on the elderly side , but I'm fighting the decline with my entry into the virtual world. I've been thinking for while that my situation is worth talking a, and for this reason. There is a tension between old and new. The old are intent upon keeping their authority and the young are intent on getting it for themselves. hereThis tension is as old as the Neanderthal and many of his four-legged cousins. And I want to explore that.
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3 Responses to One World

  1. Well, you could say that making a blog post is doing something productive.

  2. Patty Biggs says:

    Betsy is right. I know how you feel about chickens but The chicken is lonely! When there is 1 baby chick, a mirror is put in the box w/it so it will survive.

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