I was walking around the neighborhood on my usual constitutional, picking up leaves. I had passed by leaves on various other walks, but this day I started to pick up a few. Some giant-sized tulip-tree leaves had caught my attention. And then I just kept picking up various leaves because there were so many beautiful ones. And of course that got me to thinking about mother dear. And that led me to thinking how I wish I had been a better daughter, and that led me to feeling teary and nostalgic. Of course, I don't think I was a bad daughter--I had planned projects, trips, dinners, and events to take her to when she visited. And was usually supportive and complimentary--not forced, but genuine; but there were plenty simple things I could have done better. Why we don't treat our parents better, I don't know. I suppose the ingrained habit of thinking of them as there for us, prevents us from seeing them as real people (even when we have consciously come to that realization), with real feelings along with problems or odd and perhaps annoying habits, just like we have. I recently read in Paul Tournier's book, A Person Reborn, a well-put phrase how we always make allowances for ourselves, but can't quite extend the same grace to others. (Can't find the quote.)
Anyway, on around the subdivision I went, picking up more and more leaves, and wondering what on earth I would do with so many. I thought perhaps at Thanksgiving the fam could do a leaf craft, and all make pictures with the dried leaves. But would the kids want to? Stephen, no; Joyanna, probably; Elizabeth, probably--I think she has moved on to the point where she is willing to indulge me. It's a good place. A place where you accept your parents mostly for who they are and even find them somewhat endearing. I had a delightful lunch with her the other day, and she showed me the lovely new curtains in her condo; Aaron, no; Mary, yes. Not because she really loves crafts, in fact she doesn't, but because she likes to make me happy. A very strange girl that one. An angel blown down from heaven that somehow landed at my house.
I found that often the most beautiful and enticing leaves were the ones with spots of age, or a leaf disease making it brilliantly red and fabulously yellow all at the same time. Of course just when I started philosophizing about how a person's beauty sometimes comes from their trials, age, sicknesses and uniqueness as well, I would see a glowing leaf, vibrant with red orange coloring and absolutely perfect. Certainly hard to compete with that! And that made me think of a line about competition in another book I recently read, Finding God Beyond Harvard by Kelly Monroe Kullberg: "timeless values of character, ethics and truth had morphed into modern values of image, competition and success." I wondered about the "morphed" part. Are we really more shallow today than yesterday? Well, I decided, probably so. But at any rate, I did not have to decide which leaves were the "most pretty" all were very very lovely.
On future walks, I planned before hand to NOT pick up any more leaves. Russel had been quite indulgent, helping me spread newspaper on the dining room table and then layering books on top. But enough is enough. Yet time after time, I would pick up "just one" to wave like a flower on my walk, and soon I had the whole bouquet.
