They say that wisdom comes with age.
It has a name: We call it, “sage.”
But Jesus set the record straight
when friends of His who, in debate,
approached Him, asking (well, demanding),
“Who in heaven’s most outstanding?”
No pause needed, Jesus smiled
and placed before them one small child.
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
Dad used to say, “Don’t
mistake kindness for weakness.”
Good words for these times.
Image courtesy of fda54 at Pixabay
authenticity
I witnessed unwitting wisdom today
when my five-year-old granddaughter said,
“I’ve never seen a lighthouse
in the desert.”
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
Dad was a teacher, a band director, and a professional musician. In all of these professions, he was my father. I was always learning in his presence. He gave everything one hundred percent. I hear, in his voice: “Nothing great was ever accomplished without enthusiasm.” “Take it with you. If you need it, you’ll have it.” “Do your best.” “Practice right.” “Never look back. Just move forward.” “No regrets.” “Love is the most important thing.”
All of it, important. All of it, useful. All of it, wise.
There were times I was privileged to witness him at his core. Times that planted pride and love in my heart that I can hardly express. One of the things that made my knees weak came very late in life. I was sitting with a now extremely fragile man who was watching the love of his life slip slowly away, due to Alzheimer’s. “I’m not sure how to handle the coming day when I go to her room to kiss her goodnight, and she doesn’t know who I am.” My heart. The conversation was one of the hardest of my life. But also one that showed me he was still, in his elderly and fragile state, my father. As we talked about dark days ahead that could begin any moment, he gave me advice that encompassed all he was: “No matter what happens, remember her love.”
Love enthusiastically.
Love takes practice. Practice daily.
Take love with you. If you need it, you’ll have it.
(You’ll need it.)
Thank you, Dad. Thank you.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
At the age of seven, Sophie built a hand bouquet for me, a few items at a time. When it was complete, I told her how beautiful it was. The short conversation that ensued may not exactly be a poem, but it is sheer poetry to me, and will reside in my heart forever:
It’s complete? It’s beautiful, Sophie. Thank you!
It’s your personality, Nonna.
This bouquet is my personality? What do you mean? What would you say is my personality?Eternal happiness and love for everyone.
Oh, Sophie … that is so sweet. Thank you! And what would you say is YOUR personality?
I’m love, too. And care for everyone, everywhere.
Light emanating
from an unsullied child’s heart
sparks a better us.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
pictured words 