As I scroll through Twitter, emails, and news sites, I find so much talk of COVID-19 and its limitations on life - and the scary implications that it “could happen to you”. And, of course it could happen to anyone – even if most precautions are observed. But I am, like most people, tired of all this.
A walk in the park seems like a good idea.
It is late afternoon and a pale three-quarter moon is looking down from a clear blue sky. There is a cool wind blowing but enough last rays of a fading sun touch my back and make me feel good.
The lorikeets and noisy miners are squeeping and squawping in the trees and flying all about. Though their noise is loud and boisterous, they are welcome company.
I continue walking for 30 minutes. The smell from the tall eucalypts is just enough to tease my senses and, as I turn for home, I start to relax. A little girl in a pink dress and bare feet, runs over to a small slide, giggling as she goes.
With this vision, my afternoon walk has almost been made complete and I go home with a vow to keep off electronic devices for a while.
As I walk into my kitchen, I see that my husband is putting the finishing touches on a beautifully round pizza.
I sigh with contentment.
No more worries – for now.
Go away, COVID-19. You are not wanted.
Remembering my brother, Pete, born disabled, seventy-five years ago, today; the day a bomb was dropped on Nagasaki.
Pete lived for sixty-three years and I offer the following in his memory.
(Adapted from: Beatitudes for Disabled People… by Marjorie Chappel)
Blessed are you who take time to listen to defective speech, for you help us to know that if we persevere, we can be understood.
Blessed are you who walk with us in public places and ignore the stares of strangers, for in your companionship we find havens of relaxation.
Blessed are you, when by all these things you assure us that the thing that makes us individuals is not our peculiar muscles, nor our wounded nervous system, but is the God-given self that no infirmity can confine.
Blessed are those who realize that we are human - and don’t expect us to be saintly just because we are disabled.
Blessed are those who pick things up without being asked.
Blessed are those who understand that sometimes we are weak and not just lazy.
Blessed are those who forget our disability of the body and see the shape of our soul.
Blessed are those who see us as a whole person, unique and complete, and not as a “half” or one of God’s mistakes.
Blessed are those who love us just as we are without wondering what we might have been like.
I choose to comment on social issues and write creatively on a variety of subjects - for a variety of audiences.