Re-posting a poem I wrote on a dark day back in December.
“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of ‘disaster,’ I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers–so many caring people in this world.” — Mister Rogers
Look for the helpers.
I cast a line from me to you.
You cast it outward to those you love.
Fill that web, that basket, that nest, that bowl
with our open wounded hearts,
our prayers, our stones,
our candles, our feathers,
the fine white hair of our grandmothers.
Something to hold the children,
the mothers, the fathers,
a bowl that will witness and hold the grief.
We will be the helpers.
1. Breathing in. Breathing out.
2. The way people help. Almost blindly. Just running into the fray. Goodness that goes beyond sense of personal preservation.
3. The wonderful people who help us on Goldfinch Farm. We have such a great crew.
4. Great customers, new and old. I feel so heartened.
5. Mowing the grass. I love to get out on that old riding mower and mow the grass.
May we walk in beauty.