my tears stood cowardly this eve

afraid to fall even in the night

while the children's ghost rose from the developing pan

peering at me 'neath the darkroom light

their shadows lay in the moment of my mind

as it dragged memories before my eyes

their voices distanced by the grasses of the field

as if kidnapped from my ears

*We raise children to let them go.

*Nothing is as simple as we'd like to make it.

*Reflections of Frederick Buechner:

  -What is the ultimate motive that underlies the unending movement of our lives?

  -To be a saint is to  work and weep for the broken and suffering of the world, but it is also to be strangely light of heart in the knowledge that there is something greater than the world that mends and renews.

  -To be  saint is to be a little out  of one's mind, which is a  very good thing to the be a little out of from time to time.  It is to live a life that is always giving itself away and yet is always full. 

  -...however inanely and blindly we are seeking the kingdom of Heaven, and in the damndest places, literally, it is also seeking us.  Because it is our secret purpose to become saints, it is God's unsecret purpose to make us saints.

  -To live is to leave, that is all.