Thursday August 1
It is night. Our last night together. The week has been full of making memories. Fish have been caught. Birthday candles have been blown out. Skits have been performed. We have laughed and played and tried to pin a sense of permanence to a quickly fleeting week.
My brother is sitting on a rough hewn bench, playing a guitar. I am sprawled on the floor, listening to the strings ringing with truth. Be Thou My Vision. The Doxology.
Amazing Grace. Those hands that frame a porch and rebuild a transmission can coax a dulcet melody.
This week has been a gift. A sweeter gift than I could have imagined. All the planning and packing and dreaming and driving have joined together in these few days of togetherness. My two dear parents have grown to twenty. The score of us are far flung all over this continent. Even so, the ties that bind us are cords of love which cannot be broken by miles or years. Happy anniversary to my parents–what a blessing it is to call you Mom and Dad!