Monday, April 18

Thank You, My Friend

My friend Gerry passed away this morning.

A few years ago, she was going through a very tough time, and, in a bout of inspiration, I wrote her the following piece.  I thought it was fitting to share now.   

Musings on Grass

From the front porch of my house, I have watched the grass in the horse field experience life within this great big world in its own unique way. I have seen it stand tall and strong and golden in the warmth of the sun. I have seen it provide strength and nourishment for birds and deer and other creatures needing sustenance. I have seen it shiver in the chill of rain. I have seen it bow down low and humble in the face of a strong wind, only to stand back up again when the wind has passed. I have seen the grass fade into shades of beige and rust in the autumn and then die off in the winter, only to return, more lush and full, in the spring. I have even seen it sway and dance to the music of the songbirds in the coolness of a gentle breeze. Such amazing beauty in just a simple field of grass….

 I am struck by how similar to grass we as humans are. We stand tall and strong when life is easy. We sway and dance to life’s song with a big smile on our faces, and we share this intoxicating joy with all of those around us, feeding them, so that they can dance with us. Sometimes though, life brings us heartache. We bend in discomfort and pain. Sometimes, we even break. We are small – so small – in this great big world, and in our weariness, we sometimes bow in surrender to our problems. Because of the cold and the hurt and the pain we feel, sometimes we must die. These are our winter moments.

But this is not the end of our lives – it is only the death of the part of our selves that was afraid of the wind all along. And when we welcome the cold and the hurt and the pain, it becomes part of the wind that carries us forward, spreading our spirit of renewed self, until we realize that we have nothing to fear – that, all along, we have been deep-rooted in our own inner strength. We can – and we do - fight against the cold.  

Soon our spring returns, and when our troubles have begun to fade, we return, more lush and full. We are able to stand back up again, to stand tall and strong and golden in the warmth of the sun. And we feel the gentle breeze, and we hear the music of the songbirds.

And we, again, begin to dance….

I will miss you, my friend.  Thank you for the many ways you have inspired me.

1 comment:

Kristin said...

this is really beautiful, becky. so well written. praying for all who knew and loved her, including you.

it's amazing how a field of grass can teach us so much.

much love.