Just the way the sand is made up of single grains, communities are the in gathering of individuals. This week some one who is member of my community died.
This post is dedicated to a woman who I knew, but slightly, and who died this week. She devoted her vacations to building Habitat for Humanity homes, eschewed cars and rode a bicycle everywhere. — Loved folk music, telling stories, and walking.
Her life of probably thirty-five years had been narrowing down—first she lost a job she loved, a relationship ended, and life for her became more of a struggle—balancing on a tightrope — losing her grasp.
I know there's a cadre of singers—and she's joining them— singing loud and clear.