Dear Tom:
We have
travels out of our system now, and are settling in for a nice spring in
Charlotte and a new granddaughter due at the end of the month. I apologize for
not writing for the last few days, but highway traffic is not conducive to meditative
thought. I needed a short break after Lent as well, but it is once again time
for a regular pattern and rhythm in my life. Although someone who can find a
pattern in my overall life needs to become a cryptographer for NSA.
As I
wrote earlier, it has been a year since I heard that I needed a new organ to
live. How does it feel? I have been thinking a lot about this, as the
anniversary of my surgery is quickly approaching. First, I am grateful. In talking
to the people at the transplant clinic, I knew this time I had to tell them how
grateful I was. I had said my thank you’s, written the notes, but this time I
felt the need to say, “ If I hadn’t made it clear, I want everyone to know how
very grateful I am.” Something inside me had said, “let them know how glad you
are to be alive.” My gratitude is not limited to the medical team. I know I haven’t been grateful to God enough,
so I tell him in prayer how grateful I am for the gift of life. I am grateful
to my family and friends because it is the life with them that makes me so
grateful to be alive. To be alive has new meaning these days because I
understand that everything you see is for the last time, as well as for the
first time — a child’s hand wrapped around your finger; Stella the cat asleep
in her box, or a game of catch. Every day is the first day, because it has
never been before, and the last day, because it will never be again. So you
become alive in every moment, even in your dreams.
I
understand why Shakespeare changed his writing toward the end of his career. From
dark tragedies he turned and wrote Cymbeline,
where innocence is vindicated and old enemies are reconciled. He wrote The Tempest where the great storm of the
world is stilled by Prospero’s magic, and The
Winter’s Tale, where the dead queen turns not to be dead at all, the lost child, Perdita, restored to those who love
her. To be alive is to be in “the moment” all the time.
Your friend, Webb
Hi Webb — I enjoyed this post, thank you for the great reminder of all the things for which we are grateful. I forwarded this to my Shakespeare loving sister…