Shine a light

The light over the kitchen sink is doing that “illuminating the whole yard” thing that it does on occasion for no explicable reason. This morning I’m more aware than ever that there are no small lights.

On what would have been my friend Georgiann’s 55th birthday, there was, instead, a celebration of her life that felt like one. It was horribly sad and the pain was palpable, but when you hear person after person speak of a woman’s integrity and kindness, her love of animals and the land, her creativity with painting and gardening, the way she gave of herself tirelessly, then the tribute nature of it becomes the celebration of the life.

It struck me that it was not so much a celebration of the transition to new life as it was a celebration of the life that was and a recognition of the way it will live on. Maybe they are one and the same.

Retrospectively, and for the first time in three years, I see that my dad’s funeral was that way too. It was inclusive. By its very nature and by what was said, it looked out on the mourners, just as my siblings and I did when we gave our parts of the eulogy, and recognized the way Dad’s life had touched each of those gathered.

Today it is Valentine’s Day, one of those “greeting card” days that usually bug me for their commercial nature. But today I’ve got a heart shaped box of candy and a bottle of Chardonnay sitting on my kitchen counter, a rare gift from my husband who said, “There’s no card. I put the extra four dollars toward a better bottle of wine.”

Just when you least expect it, a sentimental moment lifts you up after a hard day and reminds you that some things are as they appear to be…and that small gifts…the tiniest of recognitions of love given and received, can shine a light.