Reminded Me of my Own Life

A while ago I was watching an Oprah show titled "Women Changing the World," on which guest Gloria Steinem appeared. She said one phrase that resonated in me and has stuck to me like Velcro.
She said she lives in an

Embarrassment of Riches

Oh, my! So do I!

I'm 51 years old and haven't needed to work outside the home for over two-and-a-half years. I used to justify that by calling myself an 'at home mom.' But with two grown daughters and the third a teenager that I'm lucky to see three hours a day, that title doesn't hold water any more.

I spend my days taking care of my home, upgrading the goods we live with, writing and reading blogs, participating in online discussions on needlework, stitching and doing charity work as my way of giving back to the world.

In these times of economic hardship, I have not yet felt the pinch. My husband works in an industry that can actually benefit from these times. We have retirement accounts (yes, they have shrunk) and some cash backup that could last us a year should the worst happen.

I listen with compassion to those who are tightening their belts out of necessity. Yet I know with certainty that should my family's economic situation worsen, I could get by because I've done it before. I have the benefit and wisdom of experience.

So as I did my Home Blessing this morning, listening to The Writer's Almanac podcast, I heard the following poem. The truth of which echos my own life, and I am eternally grateful.

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Sometimes
by David Budbill


Sometimes when day after day we have cloudless blue skies,
warm temperatures, colorful trees and brilliant sun, when
it seems like all this will go on forever,

when I harvest vegetables from the garden all day,
then drink tea and doze in the late afternoon sun,
and in the evening one night make pickled beets
and green tomato chutney, the next red tomato chutney,
and the day after that pick the fruits of my arbor
and make grape jam,

when we walk in the woods every evening over fallen leaves,
through yellow light, when nights are cool, and days warm,

when I am so happy I am afraid I might explode or disappear
or somehow be taken away from all this,

at those times when I feel so happy, so good, so alive, so in love
with the world, with my own sensuous, beautiful life, suddenly

I think about all the suffering and pain in the world, the agony
and dying. I think about all those people being tortured, right now,
in my name. But I still feel happy and good, alive and in love with
the world and with my lucky, guilty, sensuous, beautiful life because,

I know in the next minute or tomorrow all this may be
taken from me, and therefore I've got to say, right now,
what I feel and know and see, I've got to say, right now,
how beautiful and sweet this world can be.

*-*

David's latest book:
While We've Still Got Feet
available at Amazon.com