Until we meet again…

Sunday in Church , I prayed for an end to my sister’s suffering. The cancer and the treatments had ravaged her body. She was afraid to die and very sad. I could feel the passing would be soon.

I was already very sad as it was it was the anniversary of my oldest son’s death.

I paced from room to room. I paced around the church.

I cried.

I prayed. At bedtime waves of

anxiety overwhelmed me as I lay on my bed in a fetal position.

Dreams of my parents who had gone before and my long lost son chased me through corridors of another dimension.

I woke up with a start at 3:32 for water or to relive myself.

I shuddered remembering my dreams. I prayed again for comfort for my little sister before collapsing back into fitful sleep.

When daylight filtered through the moon window above my bed, I dared look at the phone on the nightstand.

The call had come, muffled by the sound of artificial waves that rock me to sleep each night

The call I’d dreaded and expected.

My little sister was no longer wracked with pain.

Her smile returned-accompanied by Angel wings.

© Nancilynn Saylor June 2018

Austin TX

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Indra’s net or six degrees of separation

It has been six weeks since my fiftieth high school reunion.
I had the pleasure of staying a day with friends in the small town of Floresville,Texas about 30 miles southeast of San Antonio.

Bonnie and I were buddies our Senior year, eating lunch together almost every day, along with Claudia, another friend. We were, all three from military families, bonding over our newness at a school, where many had known each other most of their lives.
Social media reconnected us several years ago. Facebook it is good in that respect. When Bonnie and Charlie invited me to stay at their home, reunion weekend I enthusiastically accepted.

The Sunday morning after the reunion was a stellar early autumn day. We leisurely drank coffee outside under the trees and after breakfast later, went into the picturesque country town to visit a Nursery. Looking at plants, is always a favorite pastime of mine made even more enjoyable with friends.

The quiet, small town America I visited that day was brought to its knees yesterday, as a gunman murdered over two dozen people in a little Baptist church in the next community over. Two people among those who lost their lives were the people I met at the nursery-kind, pleasant good people.

When I read the message from Bonnie this morning, letting me know this, I was reminded of how fragile life is and how interwoven our lives can be. I recalled a Buddhist parable titled Indra's Web,which I read long ago. It speaks about the interconnectedness of us all.

The universal "we" of mankind made even more clear this morning in the aftermath in a small Texas town.
© Nancilynn Saylor
6 November 2017

Another broken morning

They did not know
when they brushed their teeth and washed their Sunday morning faces …

To join with their friends in worship
To be in a house of the Lord

As they filed into their small white
unassuming, country church
greeting each other with smiles on a bright Central Texas day
Men shaking hands
Women nodding to one
another or hugging
Maybe slipping recipes to a neighbor
before worship service was called
By the organist's opening notes.
Teenagers cast glances at their friends in other pews and innocent smiles…
No, they did not know
as they gathered together this day,
a monster lingered near.
©Nancilynn Saylor
5 November 2017