Life Lessons

Beloved Child

dim-day

We no longer walk before dawn, K. and I, having decided that one morning need (walking) ought not compromise another (sleeping), but sometimes I miss the soft shroud of darkness that made the time all the more intimate.

This week, K. speaks of the power of believing oneself to be a “beloved child [of god]” even when faith is shaken, even in the face of tremendous loss. I believe, if not in god, certainly in the beloved. My uncle is gravely ill, dying; a favorite cousin, a family friend and an old colleague have all recently passed. Barack Obama departs the White House today.

I feel the soft shroud of mourning, heavy on my shoulders, as I step into the dim day, remembering my beloved.

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3 thoughts on “Beloved Child

    1. Hand of god. English and poison ivy like all get-out all over that poor dead black walnut…I thought the ominous cloak fitting.

      Like

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