So many visitors.
Nearly someone coming by everyday, for a while now. Each person bringing with them something.
People we've had many adventures with. Some of them kids that we spent summers with tending, now with their own kids.
Friends.
Family.
Our play Director bringing us boxes.
My niece, and her husband, her baby, and child, and her mom, and her mom's kids. And games, and food, and visiting.
And my other niece, and her kids, and again, her mother, and her kids.
And my other sister, and her kids.
My older sister, and her daughter, who just came home from her mission in Florida. We spent many summers together, when she was growing up, Terrasun, Bess, and I, and sometimes my little sis. She loves animals, and the farm. And is very spunky. Very much like a freckled, redheaded fairy, more brown headed now.
My aunt, and uncle stopped in too. We took my uncle on our three wheeled bike I bought for my mom, a few years ago, and assembled with Bess's help, that she can't really use. So he tried it, and zoomed down the street, toppled over a few times, but kept on going. He also milked our goat, drank straight from the utter, after he saw me squirt some milk into my own mouth. Saw our chickens, and had fun holding our baby goats. And playing some of our musical instruments.
It feels like someone goes, and then someone else comes. Or many someone's.
So many people have been showing up, that I need to go shopping to replenish supplies. That's pretty much all we've been doing---is being with people, music, games. Animals. Cleaning. And cooking, and resting inbetween.
Today, and yesterday my little sister, and her kid stopped by, and Bess and I spent half of yesterday, and today with her little boy while she worked on a housing project--roofing. He's pretty intense. But very cute.
Since it's warm outside, we haven't even attempted putting up our ice rink. But my nephew got some roller blades for Christmas, so since it was sunny. I got out our some of our roller blades that we hadn't used in some time, and Bess and I went to the Church and skated in the pavilion. It was a great place, because the cement was smooth, and there were tables and chairs that our nephew could lean on to give himself some balance.
I brought some homemade crackers I made, and some dip Bess made, and we had fun snacking, and skating. The sun was warm, and it was just really beautiful. Roller blading is very different from ice skating. Bess and I thought maybe the wheels needed oiling because it feels so clunky, at first. Compared to ice skates. And turning is so different on wheels. Ice is smooth, and it's like you're flying, or floating, or gliding. It's really beautiful.
But after a while, we both got the hang of it, though the turns really were strange, because I kept wanting to turn like I was in ice skates.
It wasn't long into our skating, that a black dog showed up. It limped a long, looking very sad, and I swear it yelped, and whined when I saw it.
I got close to it, and was startled. It had one beautiful brown eye. And the other eye was blind. It tried to stand, but it looked like it had a broken leg, and a broken back. And it was so skinny, and it had poop all along its tail.
Bess and I and my nephew were horrified because it was so broken. And so hungry, and so pitiful.
Whose dog was it?
It had a collar on it. And I was sure it was a certain neighbor who had lots of dogs. And was feeling some judgment regarding their care. And then, realizing perhaps they couldn't have taken it into the vet.
It must have been hit by a car, we thought, and got healed wrong.
My nephew was very disturbed by it.
He kept on coming up with ideas of how to help it.
None of them seemed like we could do them. Our skating fun felt interrupted by the presence of this creature.
I felt like we had just spotted a beggar on the street, and now had come face-to-face with trying to decide what was morally right to do. How to best help? Do we help?
Part of me didn't want to see it because it was so disturbing.
It belonged to someone, and I was pretty sure I thought I knew who.
I took a picture of it, perhaps thinking may I could post its picture online so the owner might find it---or someone with the means to care for it might want to.
My nephew squinted and pondered what it might feel like to only have one eye like the dog.
Bess and I eventually sat down with our nephew, and we thought of options for caring for the dog.
It seemed so broken, that if we took it anywhere, we thought its life might end.
Even in its broken condition, we surmised that its one eye looked happy, and it could stand, and move, and wobbled around, seeming glad to live.
We thought of maybe bringing dog food, and water to this place, at least so it wasn't starving.
But then, we thought, maybe the only reason why it looked starving, was because its back had been broken or something, so it couldn't digest properly. We thought of all the things we might do to help it. And what it might mean if we intervened.
Meanwhile, we got up to skate some more. Then we heard a man whistle, and a truck slowed down, and the dog ran to the man. Somehow the dog ended up on the back of his truck, looking happy as could be. Standing on all fours, even though it was wobbly. And they both drove off.
Bess and I looked at each other. And realized, perhaps the dog was loved, and though in very rough condition, was the way it was because it probably fell off the back of the man's truck, once upon a time.
Either way.
The dog zoomed off.
And it looked like someone cared for it.
And we felt relived, and confused...
Had we jumped to conclusions...
Hmmm...
How strange life is. We think we see. And yet, we don't.
We skated, and soaked in the sun. Lay in the leaves, and watched the sky.
My nephew is darling, he's just a little, freckled thing. A beautiful mirror, that will reflect back to you, yourself.
Children.
Mirrors.
Yet, Bess and I see so often, how children, and their parents change as they look into each other. How different people bring out light or darkness in each other.
And it seems adults look into the mirrors of their Children, and the children change, depending on who's looking, and how clear the mirror is that is held in front of them.
And it seems we could do so much good, if all we did was really present in our looking. If we ourselves were clear.
What a gift that would be. To be able to see beyond the weather, the fogged mirror, the cracked mirror, all the mirrors that have stains on them.
If we were able to reflect only the truth of our real being.
How beautifully everyone would look.
So many mirrors would shine, brilliantly.
If only we saw.
Clearly.
What beautiful reflections would be reflected all round.
Yet sometimes, all we see when we look into our own mirror is a dog, very much like the one we saw today.
We don't see that it is loved.
We don't see that it has joy.
We don't see it's master loving it.
We didn't see any of these things. And many times we don't see the truth in ourselves, or others, beyond our broken state.
And so, to have an eye, that sees the things that are invisible. In others and yourself.
To see the peace. To see, the real in yourself, and those around you. Beyond the scars.
How beautiful that would be.
To see beyond the black dog, with broken leg.
Skinny bones.
It has an owner, you can see. It has a collar. Someone knows it.
It has to be loved.
But who?
Who could own such a dog? Who could see beyond such things?
God could.
And when he whistles.
I guess, we'll all see, the truth behind the broken pieces.
That the master loves the dog.
That it has a place.
And when its standing in the back of the truck, all you see, is a happy dog.
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