Sunday, May 13, 2012
It's Mother's Day and I'm contended, sitting on my deck and reading a Kindle version of Chris Stewart's, "Wrath and Righteous-ness." The book is variously a thriller and a story of global intrigue, but beyond, it is a story of good and evil, of the commonality of the human family (regardless of headgear, religion or familial requirements) ... a story of their dreams, their triumphs, their losses.
But this particular afternoon there is the gentlest of breezes blowing. The trees along the property lines have greened out, once again, providing me much sought-after privacy. I hear, distantly, from down the street, the children playing and dogs barking. But I am glad to be alone ... to contemplate quietly and without jarring, an overall package of satisfaction at the ONLY product of my life worth counting -- the lives of my 3 boys.
Not always have they done WHAT I would have done, but they have mostly done it HOW I would have done it, and that is worthy of much satisfaction. Now with wives and children of their own, and faced with the growing struggle to put food on their tables, it is seldom, anymore, that we come to blows; when we do, however, it is always on principle as opposed to bad humour. I am glad for that.
They are, all 3, very much integrated into various corners of our now degraded culture and yet each carries into the mix the qualities of a black-robed preacher. God knows where the preacher gene resides in our bloodlines but there is a distinct thread of "the preacher" coursing through our genetics. That my 3 sons and their wives (and now 5, almost 6 grandchildren) all evidence these qualities, is what I am most grateful for. It is that strain that I hear today, on the digital Mother's Day celebration of flowers, of little voices upside big voices singing out in the long distance ... "Happy Mother's Day."
Thank you my beautiful children.