In this my fiftieth year, I seem to be experiencing much of my early years' fears, fantasies and remorseful memories. Ah, but in a Fields of Gold sense.
The old rues, regrets and remorses are showing themselves, and my hard-earned release of those...detachment by grace and by God...is dropping me softly as onto a bed of clover.
When we set out on our life's road, not knowing who we are or who we are to become...not to mention how?...when?...where?...were never conscious thoughts. It's only in looking back that we realize that we didn't know what we didn't know, and so what? Fly by the seat of our pants and laugh, cry, spit nails and get on with life was pretty much our Just Do It.
Now, at 83, I laugh more, cry just at much (only at "good news" stuff today), and have all but forgotten how to spit nails...or why, more like.
When the old me flits through my memory-field, I feel...what? Compassion? Yes, but really forgiveness, I think. It's a warm feeling no matter its name. To have a warm and loving feeling for the screw-up, fool, stupid glass-bowl I knew me as back then is the pearl beyond price. I hug her, I kiss her, I hold her dear.
All because God...and you...love me.
Thank you.
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