"It just leaves me cold."

He had listened intently through the first portion of this morning's class. He hadn't yet made any comments and when he finally spoke it made sense to me, "I don't have the understanding all of you people seem to have. I guess I don't get it. This chapter, well, it just leaves me cold." The ten other people around the table listened and a few sturdy souls offered to help him out. "What Joe is really saying is that he doesn't know what he would have thought in that day and time about this chapter, " Bud offered. "Honey, it doesn't matter that it bothers you because we know how it all turns out in the end and you'll be OK," Lucy's soothing voice said. "Joe, try to tell us more about why this chapter leaves you cold," I prompted. He went on and the group went with him as they gently searched for a deeper understanding of his theological struggle.

All and all it was quite an interactive and energized class with many points of view along with different faith experiences. However, the really amazing thing about it was Joe's age and station in life, if you will. He's been widowed for over a year, he wears hearing aides and sometimes uses a walker, and he's 92 years old. Imagine, 92 years old and still interested in learning, still able to ask deep and searching questions, and still longing to understand the faith he's practiced most of his life. I find this amazing -- it's not very often people of his age are willing to admit they don't have all the answers, they still have questions, and they still want to learn. I hope I can be like him at 92. I only have 39 years to get it together.

Pink Sunset in the East

The mountains outside our house are totally white with snow which really looks like whipped cream. The bright blue sky will shortly host our evening sunset ~ in the east, not the west. When the sun begins to dip below the horizon in the west desert north of the salt flats it shoots brilliant rays back towards the mountains. As the horizon changes colors, the snowy mountains take on the most amazing hues. For several minutes we literally have pink mountains until the sun completely sets. This doesn't happen all the time as the conditions have to be just right. It's as if God takes a ride in his Jeep to check out his desert and says, "And for an encore to the day, let's change things up with pink mountains!" Amen!

"...like the burning of a library."

National Public Radio is my connection to the world outside Utah. This is important because the world inside Utah is frequently one I struggle to understand and to find commonality with on a regular basis. When I dash about on Saturdays I listen to everything from "Car Talk" to "A Prairie Home Companion". One of the programs today was about death and how we deal with grief, loss, etc. This is a particular field of interest for me as grief and loss are tightly woven and dismissed themes throughout my family's emotional history. The author speaking today said something I'd never heard before, "You know the old African saying 'The death of an old person is like the burning of a library." It certainly is - it certainly is, but I'd never thought of it in this way. Such crucial and valuable family history is forever lost with the death of grandparents and parents. Sudden deaths make it particularly hard to retrieve what we need in order to go forward because there wasn't time to ask and, truth be told, we never thought to ask when there was time. Those long silent meals over the years never prompted the questions, "What was it like growing up in that orphanage?" "How did it feel when no one came your graduation from USC?" "How have you lived without him?" Never did these questions ever pass my lips during the forty-three years I had the chance. Since the library burned almost ten years ago now these questions and so many others ring out in my mind over and over and over. Ashes and partial volumes waft and scatter through my soul memory. Which ones to let go in the wind? Which ones can be restored to their original truth? Why more questions now? Will I know when I've spent enough time amongst the ashes? Will I know the most important essays, books, and volumes to keep in my heart? Will I know when it's time to leave this library to itself and move on? I hope so.

...and 454 days later she gets back to her Blog...

Wow - that's really a long time to be away! To quickly recount -- worked for six months as a hospice chaplain, celebrated 30 years of marriage, still live in Utah, Fred is doing well, I've gained some pounds, make bread a few times a week (could that be where the pounds have come from??), love my new little pretend car dressed like a Toyota Yaris, Shasta was lost for 2 nights in the mountains and then miraculously found due to a road being fixed by stimulus funds, and we've started to build a dream called the Greenside Development Foundation to help people in poor countries make their own way. Could it be I won't be stuck sitting in a chair when I'm 85 wondering what exactly I did with my life? Ah - that's fabulous prospect. Bye for now - but not for another 454 days! Sher