“The very fabric of existence is love.”-Jacob Nordby

As I read these syllables written by a fellow word-smith, it occurred to me that we weave new threads each moment in the company of kindred spirits at a great big quilting bee where the table is miles long with room for new folks to join the fun. I gaze back at the past 5 decades of my life in amazement at how many and varied were the folks who sat at the table with me. I come from an immediate family of 4 (my parents, Selma and Moish who are now weaving from the Other Side and my younger sister Jan), an extended family in the high double digits, since my maternal grandmother was one of thirteen children and her generation created the next and so on, and my father’s side of the family, smaller, but just as closely knit….. and now an ever growing circle of family of choice……including all of you who read the Bliss Blog. As we touch each other’s lives, we are related, not by DNA, but by heart.

At the moment, the threads have me sitting at Meineke getting my car inspected and listening to a conversation about why another customer doesn’t celebrate Valentines’ Day, since her ‘significant other’ doesn’t celebrate. She and I, another customer and the man behind the counter agreed that each day could be celebrated in honor of love. Yesterday, I embellished my work clothes with a ‘fancy shmancy’ shiny red heart necklace that I got at a dollar store and handed out What I Learned About Love posters to my co-workers….kind of the grown up version of the mini Valentine cards I loved to give and receive when I was a child. The smiles on their faces made my day. At this time in my life, my own ‘significant other’ is still somewhere else, living his life, until the day we come together,  since as the Michael Buble’ song waxes…. “I just haven’t met him yet.”  In previous years since being widowed, I have felt a pang whilst walking through card stores in the the atheredweeks prior to the holiday dedicated to expression of love. This year, it was just smiles; content with what is.

The tv was tuned in to Good Day Philadelphia and we were astonished at what we saw. A man was standing in a security line at an airport and the young man in front of him had left a watch in the bin when he gathered his belongings. Rather than calling out to him in order to return it, the man behind him picked it up and put it in his own bin, little considering that he was on camera. What was he thinking? Or was he?  What threads wove through his life that had him take this particular conscience-less action?

I see people daily who have survived woundings; some of whom triumph and some of whom succumb. What is the difference between the two?  Learned resilience perhaps, a sense of knowing that all is well. One of my co-workers, a psychiatrist, recently struck up a conversation with me about my spiritual conviction that has me rolling with whatever happens on the job. He said he wished he could believe too.  What keeps me knowing that all is well?  The thread that my parents wove into my tapestry of  my life, witnessing them trusting that no matter what the circumstances, they would overcome the challenges with grace and love. It was their legacy to me and one that I gladly pass on to my son.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Hdx9JjzDfo  Dream Weaver  by Gary Wright