136.

[it seemed to me that the sunshine walked beside her -townes]

it's a dreary night in new england, but I found solace in a basement room with finger-picking, toe-tapping, an general gladness all around.
i was reminded by the stark contrast of the joy-filled music-making inside and soggy footed downpour outside, that this life is full to the brim with honest juxtapositions of all things beautiful and not beautiful all at once. like love, mistakes, grace, heartache, loss, rewards, dishonesty, and glimmers of truth...they are all always there. 

thanks to my friend Roxanne over at Stories of Conflict and Love for sharing Mary tonight as I remember that it's important to embrace the rain drops  and the bitter winds that spiral round the warming love provided by friends during this season of thankfulness.


"Love Sorrow"

Love sorrow. She is yours now, and you must
take care of what has been
given. Brush her hair, help her
into her little coat, hold her hand,
especially when crossing a street. For, think,

what if you should lose her? Then you would be
sorrow yourself; her drawn face, her sleeplessness
would be yours. Take care, touch
her forehead that she feel herself not so

utterly alone. And smile, that she does not
altogether forget the world before the lesson.
Have patience in abundance. And do not
ever lie or ever leave her even for a moment

by herself, which is to say, possibly, again,
abandoned. She is strange, mute, difficult,
sometimes unmanageable but, remember, she is a child.
And amazing things can happen. And you may see,

as the two of you go
walking together in the morning light, how
little by little she relaxes; she looks about her;
she begins to grow.

-Mary Oliver