Crossing the Bridge Over Troubled Water

Halfway between our homes, we met––a golf course in Vallejo.

Men lost themselves in sun, fun, friends, and golf.

Two women lost ourselves in words. Peaceful words.

Hopeful, dreadful, healing words––and true.

It was a brilliant spot...a brisk, bright day.

Sweetest of all? Just being there together.

Discussing life and loss and love and LIFE.

And motherhood, the blessing of our hearts.

The journey home brought sorrow and reflection.

Gladness and gratitude were also mine. (I used the time.)

It came to me that life is the full package.

And we?......Receivers of that motley gift,

with all its grimness and its grace.

Awash in guts and glory, life is ours.

As are the children that we bear in faith.

In bits and bursts of courage, we bear with them.

They bear us off to soar and sink to heights

and depths, surprising us each moment.

By giving birth to dreams we almost own.

(Filling, then dashing them in equal measure.)

The rhythm God's, not ours, and rightly so.

For yes, oh yes, their lives are His. (We know.)

We don't know why her son is called home early,

while mine remains to share dinner and dusk...

to live and love and light these bright, sad days.

We love but do not understand His ways.