Since November, Jim and I and two other couples have been sponsoring a family from Afghanistan. The father was a combat medic working with American troops. A baby was born in December to join his siblings aged 2, 4 and 6. Helping this family is challenging. No one speaks English and translation apps for Pashto are inadequate. Our local social service network and federal immigration services are understaffed and cumbersome. And even though our family is entitled to Aid to Dependent Children (RELY,) they have not received any money since they arrived.![]()
![]()
Yet, the family is kind, warm-hearted and hard-working. They are all eager to learn. When we visit, we are offered tea and flatbread. I am learning a great deal about a culture I have always wanted to understand. Once again I have some young children in my life.
Our friend Robert Becker took this photo of a leaf in his wife's rain barrel. It says about everything I want to say about life right now.
Just before Christmas, I fell while traveling to Canada to see our daughter’s family. I broke my left arm and my left foot. That didn’t stop me from enjoying the visit, but I am quite limited in what I can do.![]()
![]()
It feels good to be home. I’ve done my New Year’s journaling and I am reading, meditating, and calling my friends and family. Looking out my window gives me great pleasure. The light is returning and the sunrises in our powder pink and blue skies help me start my days with a cheerful attitude. Yesterday, ice fishermen in blue and red tents dotted the lake. As the last of the open water froze, long lines of geese crossed the sky. The snow swirled on the lake as if sculpted by Galsworthy. We all have plenty to be worried about these days, yet at the same time, beauty and comfort are always available to us.
This morning I woke early, made coffee, and waited for dawn. Soon, a close friend will die, and a much-awaited baby will be born. In this darkest, coldest time of the year, I will be able to see all my children and grandchildren.![]()
![]()
I am old, but I have had a rich full life. I am deeply flawed, but I have been loved. My life has been one of passionate entanglements, probably almost exactly like yours.![]()
![]()
As the full moon sets in the west and the sky turns orange on the eastern horizon, I ponder the great mystery of it all. Then, it is time to move into my day, to dress in my old clothes, soft as rags, and to prepare for whatever comes next.
Dear friends, I haven’t written in quite a while. I injured my back in early October, and mostly I’ve been reading on the couch since then. But I had surgery yesterday, and already I am healing and more energetic. Here is what helps me heal: the lights of my fireplace and our little Christmas tree, my December friend Orion in the eastern sky with his shield and helmet of stars and garments of gauzy clouds. And last night, just home from the hospital, the crescent moon shone through our masthead white pine. Jim and I just inhaled the beauty—the lights on Holmes Lake, the sky, our old Calico cat Glessie and each other. We were grateful to have what we have, to be home with me on the mend and the promise of a walk in our near future.