The tea party

the table

I am looking for what I might bring to the table. 
The teacup I never use that sits up on the dust covered shelf? It has a phoenix emblazoned on it. The saucer sits in the ashes of an old and irrelevant story. So no.
Anyway, when I drink tea I prefer a mug. 

I like Sophie Strands mantra, "I'm so lucky." 
Sitting at the kitchen table talking with a dear friend in Brasil recently, we spoke of Gratitude as a lifeline. She said, "And it's Free!" Gratitude is free. 

Tending to my beloved dead, that's something.
That table, my friends, is piled high with grief and gratitude.
Writing. 
Taking pictures of beautiful things. Taking pictures and then looking for the beauty in the image; a crack in the ice, the turn of a wing, my husband's hand on his mother's shroud.
Moss and bones.
Pine needles.
Painting the rooms in our house.
Packing. Unpacking. Letting broken things get carried away on the March winds.  Stocking up and preparing for when the whole world goes dark. 
Holding my arms as wide as I can.

I am not under fire.
Not burying a murdered child. 
Not ducking missiles. 
Not stringing up a tarp tent in smoke and ashes and six inches of water.
Not here. Not yet. Though as James Baldwin wrote, "Every bombed village is my hometown." "Every home turned to rubble is the home I grew up in." 
We all see the live streams. The Live Streams of little dead bodies. The Live Streams of suffering. Stones from the rubble are carried by grieving parents, uncles, sisters, brothers to cover rows and rows of tiny graves.

I walk to the creek and over to my stone circle where the chickadees arrive with expectations of peanuts and conversation. 
I offer both. I like to think I’m learning their language, I practice my whistles and peeps. The little dog waits and watches.
I am
grateful and lucky and lifting my wings to the winds.
Still wondering what I might bring to the table
and thinking it's time to clean the nesting boxes that dot our fence lines in hopeful anticipation of swallows.

My posts are always free to read, but if you care to support my work and help feed the birds, I thank you!