OUTSIDE MY FRENCH DOORS
Outside my French doors, autumn is sharing the days with winter. She chills the air, grays the sky, scatters gold and red across the pastures. A flock of nine turkeys cross in front of the barn, peck through the fallen leaves. Horses graze near by undisturbed. Deer nibble next to them, and now and then all gaze into the distance. I realize in this moment that it is a time for reflection. There is a doorway to peaceful existence and hope of continued life, as the season of dying crouches close on the horizon.
In our country, friends gather for Thanksgiving during the end of November. Many cook, polish and share love, but, to me, fall feels less peaceful than those in the past. I think about all the fear induced hate spewing across Facebook and realize I want to withdraw into gratefulness for what I have, isolate myself as the United States did until December 7, 1941. Deep down, I know it would be wrong to do so. Isolation was a false sense of security then, as it is now. The world is round. There are no walls against evil, except to stand united with our fellow humans who believe in and offer hope.
A man with a caring heart posted on Facebook about France using the words of Winston Churchill from the year 1940, where Churchill speaks of a shining dawn to come. I read his words and thought; did Churchill have any idea of how long it would be before that morning would come? Such hope and such sorrow followed his speech, but he never lost his way, never devalued the value of all people. Thank goodness. He knew that such evil couldn’t be allowed to grow in his own country, that fear induced hate and such a false rant of superiority could not become a part of the country he loved. His people, deep down, knew it too and they took in those persecuted, gave of themselves to make a better world.
Hope didn’t die during that awful time, and love for our fellow man shined the brightest. I am thankful that there were people of vision, who cared about more than only those within their borders.
The turkeys join six crows. I expect the turkeys to overpower with their size and the crows to do their usual territorial fighting, but this morning, they share. Each seems to know that in this transitional season they can’t survive if they don’t all share the Earth’s bounty. I have to believe that we, as a people know this, too.
In this season of reflection and hope, when the fear of death hovers near, be brave enough to care, always.