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I PONDER.

I ponder the effluvium* of the Copper Beech tree that I persuaded my yard man to plant in our yard an incredibly long time ago, and the fact that, though I'm sometimes bothered by messy discharges of this sort, I find it absolutely stunning.

I only got around to reading yesterday's paper today, and I happened to scan the obituaries. (Ordinarily it's the comics I read religiously, death notices only by whim.) There I saw a photo of Ella, smiling. She passed away last Friday surrounded by her loving family. Due to the fact that she was my age, I curiously read more...and, oh...I saw that, not only was I still a squalling newborn--three days old when she arrived--but her infant self would have been so near to me, her hospital bassinet likely within a half-hour's drive of mine.

Now, until last Friday, we both lived here--three states away from that southern area where we both cried, both gasped the first breath of life. I ponder Ella's years--her marriage soon after mine, her children, her debilitating illness, and her long, courageous struggle. I ponder going on without her...this stranger I never knew.


I ponder this quote that I came across not long ago:

Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.

(It was Frederick Buechner who said it [Or at least, I suppose that he said it--he is a minister, after all; though it's possible he only wrote it--he's a writer, too.]) I ponder sneaking in the word "messiness" after Frederick's words "boredom" and "pain." I really don't think he'd mind.

I ponder the gladdening sight and scent of the gardenia that I've enjoyed since its boxed arrival on my porch last Saturday. And, too, I ponder that most wondrous gift of motherhood, which, in its thrilling and enchanting and endearing way (though, without a doubt, messy and painful as well), spawned this secondary gift.

I ponder what it is you might be pondering, Reader Dear (if only you would tell me!)

And I ponder this, as I earnestly endeavor to change my night-owl ways: All the key moments of my life, how can I slip away into oblivion and spend so many of them sleeping?!



(*Oh, yeah--effluvium. I was going to tell you how I first learned the word. But, on second thought, it's getting late. I'm going to toss away key moments now. I'll just grit my teeth and do it--throw out a whole heaping pile before I change my mind. If life itself is grace, and I am granted more, I will wake again. I can tell you later.)


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