On the beauty of unconditional love.
In the winter of 1863, my great, great, great, great grandfather, David Mathews, left home to serve in the Civil War. He was 36 years old, not a wealthy man, and regretted having to leave his wife, children, and extended family as he felt his greatest responsibility was providing for them in the lean times the war had brought.
Sitting on my front stoop in the early spring of 2009, I was playing my guitar on the first warm, sunny day of the season. Named “Little Girl,” my guitar is a far better instrument than I deserve. I had been sad when I discovered she had developed a long, narrow crack during the cold, dry months of winter, and I felt pretty negligent in tending to her properly. (more…)
Approximately 19 million people do it each day. Some love it, some dread it, but either way, this day comes every year: your birthday.
As a kid, I was young for my grade. Being six when your classmates are already seven is an embarrassment, so in elementary school I tried to hide my age. I was certain older meant better. (more…)
I have written about my friend Elizabeth on a couple of occasions, one post about a trip we took together seven months before she died (Why Miss the Moment) and another which was a reminiscence after her memorial service (Where the Angels Live | Lullaby for a Friend). But today, I am reblogging a post from OK Everybody Let’s Get Organized, the website that serves as a memorial to her life and legacy, because today I want you to hear from her in her own words. [Photo credit: Elizabeth Alling Sewall © 2008] (more…)