The Path

About 2 blocks from our rented ticky tacky cookie cutter house is some "unimproved" land owned by the city.  It is a small hill.  It is about half a mile to walk to the top of it.  At the top, right before the "improved" land is where the city dumps all the yard waste.  The presence of this hill, where we can go and play without park toys and grass telling us what to do, has saved my life.  I can go out on it and look at the sky and breathe freely. 
I was walking down it the other day in the dark, and I lost the little trail that our feet have worn into the side of it.  I knew it was too cold for snakes or spider, yet I was looking for a trail.  What happened to the me that would joy in the freedom of not having to look before I leaped.  Why wasn't I running down the hill at top speed waving my arms unrestrained.  I had always thought that the way people on the Titanic were portrayed was sad.  If I was on a ship that I knew was sinking in freezing salt water, and we wouldn't all survive, I would have so much fun.  I could do any dare devil thing I wanted.  I could not only not put "safety first", but I could do away with it completely!  I could swing on the chandeliers or jump from the railing and feel the experience of freezing cold water engulf my body!  I would have so much fun!
So here on the hill, knowing that this time of year there really wasn't anything there that could hurt me, why was I looking for the path, like the old worn tame mommy that I am?
It reminds me of stories I hear about slaves who wouldn't be broken no matter how many times they felt their master's whip.  I don't read stories about slavery to my kids very much.  It just disturbs them too much, and I figure why focus on a bad thing.  There are some beautiful books out there, like

              

  Henry's Freedom Box      and       The People Could Fly

but I couldn't bring myself to read them to my kids - I didn't want to.

Then I was thinking the other day, especially with some of the older ones realizing what a not free world we live in, how what we really need is the wisdom and help of people who have dealt with the difficulties of a severe lack of freedom.  I realized that stories from these now angels who could help us, these ancestors who fought the inner turmoil of freedom and the outer fight for the world.  We need these stories and wisdom to get us through these times where the govt. tears families apart. 
So we have been reading stories of hope.



          Moses




        Minty




Who Owns The Sun?



I went with Happy to the hill one day at dusk when it was so foggy you couldn't see 3 feet ahead of you.  She trudged on ahead in her happy way, off in her own world of birds and leaves and fresh air.  I love watching the joy she gets out of life.  Not once did she wonder if she was going the "right" direction.  When she came across the path, after walking sideways for quite a while, she just stopped, after mostly crossing it without noticing, and her boots first pointed up it, then back towards home, as the rest of her was obviously preoccupied with happier thoughts.