Walking by feet

This last week I have spent alternately throwing up with stomach flu and spontaneously bursting into tears. Yesterday I received in the mail the bulletin for the service of a family funeral I had been unable to attend along with updates of another family member’s progressive illness. “Every day gets harder…and there is nothing we can do…we must make the most of every day.”

As with most funerals, I found out more about the person who died than I had ever known in life. But the really important things are the personal memories. I remembered what he handed me the last time I saw him, and went and dug it out of my collection of business cards:
card2 card1 card

That side of the family was always playing practical jokes at family gatherings, weddings and funerals alike.   Is that what I can take away from this?

Today I sat in McDonald’s drinking coffee and evesdropping on the amateur philosophers at the next table, a group of black guys in their 60’s who seem to be there every day. “Who has eyes let him see” one intoned, loosely, very loosely,  paraphrasing Matthew 13. ” Oh ye of little faith. Sometimes we walk by sight, and sometimes we walk by feet.”

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