© Jeanne E Webster–All rights reserved
Life is filled with many wonders, some shrouded in golden ecstasy while others forever etched within tortured souls. It is an arduous and exhilarating labor, long and short, hopeful and hopeless, fulfilling and fleeting, and promising and forsaking.
It begins with a scream and ends with a moan, loves one day and hates the next, promises the world with one hand and waves goodbye with the other. Somewhere in between babies are born and people die, lovers marry and the disillusioned divorce, families build up and discord knocks them down, adults fight and children hurt. Such is life.
Mature life begins with shy smiles, cuddling looks, love oozing from the seams of passion, pure innocence in all its meant-to-be fashion. Babies snuggle at the breast, prideful glances are exchanged with cooing and oh-so-gentle touches of love. Brief bliss offers fulfillment. Home was security until a thing called the “Viet Nam war” bombed the soul out of young hearts just beginning their walk down the aisle of life.
The eruption of this foolhardy war blasted despair on the idyllic scene and in a few short years family units deteriorated into shambles. Parents divorced, bitterly forging a sword of despair and unforgiveness into once solid family trees—forever. Like animated ghosts of the past, fathers and mothers tread wearily along what’s left of life, separated by wounds too deep to heal and too long ago remembered.
The children are resilient but deeply wounded nonetheless. They reach adulthood and marry, clinging dearly to high hopes, bearing young and slowly resurrecting their family trees. But all too soon they realize that, “Life begins with a scream and ends with a moan, loves one day and hates the next, promises the world with one hand and waves goodbye with the other.”
A story told by an angel on the wing, carrying heavenward life’s shattered things.