Joseph was eighteen when I first met him, a hulk of man with dark eyes that always glanced away, and a permanent hunch, like a cowering animal. He didn’t communicate verbally, but with patience and a steadying touch, could type out his thoughts, if the mood struck him. Some days he would pace and flutter his hands, in a rhythm only he understood.
I trust your intuition, was his first message to me, a confidence I didn’t share, but it was a start.
We met once a week, sometimes to “talk”, sometimes to walk, or go for a drive, usually to his favourite restaurant. Some days we met with a circle of others to meditate, and share stories.
At one of these gatherings, as I led the group in meditation, Joseph came to stand behind me and put his hand on my shoulder.
“Can I ever be whole?” His voice was stilted, unfamiliar.
“I’m sorry, did you say something, Joseph?” All eyes raised.
“Can I ever be whole?” he repeated.
Not sure if it was the miracle of Joseph’s speech, or the nature of his question, but tears came as response.
Joseph patted my shoulder, as if to say: “Not your fault”, and the room fell into stunned silence.
Later, in privacy, I asked Joseph how I can help him be whole. He typed:
“You see me as whole. Hold that vision in your heart and I can succeed.”
Today’s challenge was inspired by Paul Vincent Cannon’s poem, To Be Made Whole. I have not thought of my friend Joseph, nor his wise words, for sometime, so I thank you for that Paul.
All are invited to participate using whatever format of expression you wish. Just remember to link back here so we can all find your work.
A 6:15 a.m. phone call changed my life: “Hello Grandma…it’s a girl!”
There is no describing the thrill. I packed a hasty bag and drove the hundred kilometres in record time, scooping up that little bundle immediately on arrival. Her little tongue moved in and out rapidly as her gazed fixed on mine. I could tell we had so much to catch up on.
A year later, I would be present for the birth of another granddaughter, and then a third would be arrive.
Recent upheaval has plummeted me into a dark space, where I am not willing to settle. Depression has followed me throughout life, and while I acknowledge it has a place, I am not willing to let it drive. I learned long ago that the only way for me to counter the clouds is to be cognizant of my thoughts and adjust focus.
So, I have decided to dedicate Thursdays to acknowledging my blessings.
Where better to start than with those three little miracles who have inspired me to be a better person, and given me the strength to never give up: my children.
As they are not crazy about me taking their pictures, I’ve chosen some old photos, capturing ages and stages:
Being a mom is a blessing. Having birthed these three a miracle I am ever grateful for.