20 December 2003
12/21/2003 04:29 a.m.
Some days seem to reflect the totality of life. Today, this morning particularly, was just such an occasion.

I met the Student Government and Key Club kids at Walmart this morning at 9:00 in Logan. Because they were to do the shopping for two needy families, I left for a while to let them do their work. I stopped at Lows for a "stud-finder," then went to the care center to visit with Uncle Paul.

He looked worse in terms of color, but his condition seemed much the same as it had been two weeks ago (even with cancer, death comes in its own time). When I entered the room, he looked sedated, like he was sleeping, but when I spoke, he opened eyes and responded. I chatted briefly, asked how he was doing, and asked about Aunt Lou. As usual he answered somewhat curtly and then he paused and said, "There's someone else here. I don't know who it is, but they're there between you and me."

With my eyes, I could see no one. With my heart and spirit I tried to feel, but didn't experience what I had hoped to (and on some occasions have)experience. My conscience whispered to me of "unworthyness." And yet in my heart I felt that I was in the presence of someone from the other side of the veil. I wondered how much they knew of me or would like to say to me. I wondered if it were Grandma or Grandpa Bowen, perhaps Aunt Carol, but regardless felt real comfort in knowing that such presences are there at our bedside at the last of life. And I thought of Aunt Ersel and the visitation she had in what is now my own bedroom.

I left the care center, bought some gas, and went back to Walmart. While I was wating for the kids to come, the Harris' from Portage came by. Our visit wasn't long, Bill did most of the talking, but it was from the heart, and Judy gave me a hug. And I considered again what those few months of service on my part in Brigham City had cemented into a lasting love, only to be reinforced as I taught their children--sons and daughters.

After Harris's a guy who I knew from Camp Loll passed with his family. Later Renee Hortin's granddaughter (who I taught last year in German) stopped and visited briefly. Then Jody Orme's Grandpa Bourne. And I thought of how our two families have been tied together through Scouting, teaching, and church service both by them to us and us to them.

Later I passed a face that looked familiar, and he said to one of his children, "That's my old English teacher, I almost didn't recognize you." And I didn't have the heart to say that I had no idea of his name, but simply said, "Time passes and makes changes."

I next saw James Coburn's nephew Donald Banks. He was tall and good looking and still had that air of quiet dignity about him. But he now spoke confidently as an adult, no longer a shy teenager, and told me about his life. And I was glad to hear that he lived by his stepfather York.

When I finally found the kids and as we were tallying up and sorting out our purchases, a big heavy kid that I know from the canyon passed by. I don't know if he even saw me, regardless, we didn't speak, and I both wondered and knew for what reason. And I made note of another aspect of multifacited life.

At the check out stand I almost called Ashley Scott, "Alison." And I no doubt surprised her when I asked her about her Aunt Alison (Oh, what a boistrous and tough one she was.) As she told me about her aunt's on-going divorce, I wasn't surprised. And in fear of digging up more dirt, I didn't ask her about her Uncle Donny. "Oh, so many years and so many live's I've known," I thought to myself. "And here I am with the next generation."

And as I drove the gifts back to the high school, I had that good feeling of having done good. And I felt thankful and greatly rewarded for having done this very duty not just this year, but for many, many years, usually (to the needy families anyway) entirely annonymous.

The opera on NPR was German and relatively understandable, but modern and cacaphonous so I switched it off and thought Christmas thoughts (here expressed), about who I really am, and am not. Thankful that such a morning could even be mine, and regretting, at least to some extent, that it wasn't a morning of full Joy.

I spent the rest of the day puttering around the house and yard (the weather was warm and beautiful for December), and thinking about the completeness of the morning.
I am currently Thoughtfull
I am listening to Riga Boys Choir