Fruit From the Tree

Inclement Weather.

School canceled.

Another excuse to not get out of my pajamas. Or put away laundry, run errands, clean out a closet, return phone calls or attend meetings.

Other than scuffing around in my pajamas, I have done so much "nothing" that I feel a kind of lethargy that seems illegal!

One more day, and I will have eaten a pound of Dove chocolate.

One more day, and "cabin fever" will be a real and present danger in this household.

I can't help it. I like busy.

Yet, I did read a good book and that good book has me thinking and thinking gets me blogging.

Still Alice by Lisa Genova.

Hold on second. Commercial break. Mrs. Kilpatrick (high school English teacher), I am sorry I didn't underline the title to this book, but I can't figure out how to do it on blogspot. It seems BOLD and ITALICS will have to suffice!

OK. Sorry.

Anyway, Still Alice tells the story of a fifty year old professor at Harvard who is diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's. It is described as "at once beautiful and terrifying".

I agree.

Kind of simultaneously to reading this book, I received some terrible news that a dear friend's brother had died, suddenly, at the age of 54 years old.

I know. You want to shoot me. It is sad. But stay with me, ok?

In Still Alice, the main character comes to realize that "... just because [butterflies'] lives were short didn't mean they were tragic... See, they have a beautiful life."

And...

"Her mother had comforted her and told her not to be sad for the butterflies, that just because their lives were short didn't mean they were tragic. Watching them flying in the warm sun among the daisies in their garden, her mother had said to her, see, they have a beautiful life. Alice liked remembering that."

And, a man dies too young. 54 years old. A man of integrity. Loved. Admired. Appreciated. A mentor. A leader. Accomplished. Respected.

Tragic ending? Yes.

Tragic life? No.

A tree is known by its fruit.



Memories are sustaining. They teach. They carry forward what is not lost, but learned.

A life is so much less than we think and so much more than we realize.

It is nearly impossible to understand this when you are the loved one who has lost someone.

I have been there, already, too many times.


But when the veil of grief is lifted and your soul has had some healing, it is there. We live on. Long after our bodies die. Short life, long life - either way, but a life lived well isn't tragic, it is a gift. It is a foundation stone. For your friends, for your children and in the case of this young man, for a community of people.

I am inspired. No, I am convicted to try harder. To make everyday count. Every hour.

Hug harder. Laugh louder. Ignore the dust bunnies and play pirates. Serve. Savor. Set an example.

Who am I? I am the people I love. I am the lessons I have taught. I am a disciple of the One I reflect.

I am a butterfly.

And a bug.

~J