a prophetic voice-

Yesterday was a delight...beautiful snow showers...a visit to an old friend at Trinity Glen...coming home to a house decorated for the holidays...hot chocolate in front of the fire. Lovely... But this morning, tears came unbidden as I found myself longing for Thanksgivings long past and the people no long present. I felt suddenly bereft...of purpose, of hope, of joy. A shroud of loneliness covered me, blotting out the already-brightly-shining sun. I was alone... felt alone...and I found myself wondering just what these nearly seventy-two years of my life have been all about.   The tears passed, as they are wont to do, and as I stood in the blessedly hot shower, I began thinking about this day- meant to be a day of giving thanks, though it has taken the meaning of a day for family and feasting- not a bad thing, except for those who have neither family nor food. And I have both- in abundance, if truth be told. And friends...beautiful, wonderful, sharing, caring fri...

It has been one of those days...emotions nearly run amok, running the gamut from morning to evening in a day filled to overflowing with sights and experiences, with death and life, with people and places unlike anything at home. The morning began with a lovely walk up to our favorite coffee shop, Bourbon Street, combining exercise with conversation and people-watching and a really good latte. Then it was off to the Ntarama Genoside Memorial, a small brick church well outside Kigali where several thousand Tutsis were slaughtered by Hutus, many of them their neighbors. They had fled to the church for safe haven but were hunted down and killed by their fellow countrymen wielding machetes, clubs, knives, and heavy steel balls which could easily crush skulls. Soldiers came with grenade launchers, blowing holes in the walls so the killers could get in. Among those killed were many children, taken to their Sunday school room be slain. How can I begin to describe feelings which flooded my ...