I've had a pretty hectic time since the last post. We are having bigger teams, the rebuilding of Pearlington is very (painfully) slow and so we are doubling up at Orange Grove. I also am working with a family in Gulfport to remove moldy interior wall finishing and re-wire so that after over three years, they can have a livable home. more on that later. I also missed posting a reflection on Yom Kippur last weekend, and I'll try to get that out.
But I leave you with Henry's lament:
Still Dreaming
The first time, I could only stop my walk, awestruck,
a safe distance from the edge of that grand canyon of canyons.
Unconsciously a quiet gasp slipped free
as I beheld the walls changing color,
pink and red and yellow-tinted fading into indistinct haze
as I gazed further and further into it.
The expansiveness. A canyon so magnificent, so large
that its far walls seemed so near,
as if a canvas of pastels that I could reach out and touch,
but I realized only God’s arms could span its breadth and paint its beauty.
The last time, far below
I saw the bright glint of some small stream.
The raging river,
the lifeblood of myriad acres and people
who drain it to a trickle at its end, not even to the sea.
Standing there overcome by the thought
of how time and water made such a wonder,
I left. Dreaming, even now,
of what construction the future works on me.
That moment conjoined the sting of regret and the kiss of hope.
I recalled the mirthful celebration of cap and gown long ago,
of the fecund promise of the future’s work,
Of time that trickles relentlessly towards its end,
Eroding memories but not the past; leaving only the rue
of things I’ve done and have yet to do
H. Paris, © 2008
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