Susan LaffertyIn December, a treasured necklace from Japan falls on the floor. Breaks.
And I get on my knees. Gathering broken pieces. Fragments.
Trying to put the puzzle back together. But it sits.
Incomplete.
So I place what remains in a bowl. Not ready to give up on it yet. Perhaps a shard or two skittered under a cabinet.
Paying attention makes a difference.
I think about this while watering the brown, straggly plant in our front yard. The one that missed automatic sprinkler showers.
My failure to notice is part of the issue. Properly caring for plants is not my wheelhouse.
In the tropics, where I was raised? Plants grew green year round. Rain fell in abundance. And planting seeds for science projects yielded quick results. Green shoots before the week was out. Sometimes overnight.
This sad-looking specimen tells another story.
We heard it repeated. Often. “Being in the center of God’s will is the safest place to be.”
Well, yes.
But safest can be interpreted in different ways.
We were living in a city where Taliban congregated and proliferated.
One political party’s slogan read “Sell your televisions and buy guns.” As they sought to overthrow the ruling party by force.
Safest was not the first word that came to mind.
