Grace with Margaret and baby Dick, 1913, China
Being Wise Nineteen June 13, 2021
I live with boxes and clothes.
No messages have come in
so far. Boxes of books, seeds,
piles of clothes: gifts, hand-me-downs
for winter and summer. I don’t need
many. I don’t go out much. I sorted
the gardenias Janet brought me, the
fresh white ones from those turning
yellow, dying. I miss old friends.
I still have some. I can’t go back
into the past. But it’s still there
in my mind. Thailanna and that
loving family I won’t forget, nor
Sam, who let me know in so many
ways, that he loved me, valued me.
All that work we did on Grace.
He wouldn’t let me stop until I’d
discovered who all these people were:
the missionaries and their children.
A lot of women wanted that book
because Grace had mental illness.
There is plenty to do here. All I
need is the will. My shoes fit now.
I have more energy. Slowly I’ll
summon my will. I’ll tackle the
boxes, the piles of clothes. I’ll
remember to be grateful for all
the loving people I’ve had in my life.
When you’ve been loved, you’re
honor-bound to give love back.
Not brood, not despair. Life’s
riches will come.