musing

Recently my grandparents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. We threw a surprise party for them and it was I and my other 21 year old cousin who openned the doors to reveal said surprise. Tears forced themselves down my cheeks as I took part in this show of immense admiration and appreciation. Our family was there, accompanied with several of their old friends (who they hadn't seen in years) and some 50's marching music. They have 8 children, 18 grandchildren, and 2 great grandchildren, almost all of whom were there that day. Each family member was offered a page in a scrap-book to do as they please. That day it all came together, a thick book of love. As I sat watching the prepared video of pictures past and present, I pondered it all. As impact is nearly commoditized and it's importance abroad tossed around like rags, I wonder if maybe we shouldn't give a little time to focus on that which is around us; maybe we should give a little time to the base camp.

And the struggle continues as I try to balance a desire to live with wings spread, while remaining rooted in that which I call home. God forbid the day I ever wonder when I'll next see the lady who's labored since the day I was born.