Renee (Life in the Boomer Lane) writes mirthful, subversive critiques of the media that make me wish she were responsible for all news, everywhere. I said as much the first time I read her blog, and wish it even more strongly now.
I was anxious when I invited her to guest post. I didn’t dare dream she’d actually say “yes,” but rejoiced when she did.
Beneath her wit runs compassion that is so much more than words. I am thankful she uses her words in all the ways she does: to speak out against injustice, to poke good-hearted fun, to encourage. It was at Renee’s urging that I wrote about my experiences testifying in court as a child; through that writing, I not only learned but increased my strength. For this I am and will ever be thankful to Renee.
Recommended post: The Day I Shook Hands with the Dalai Lama
Two ships
In the midst of the riches that surround me, of family and friends and health and purpose, I am thankful for two moments in time that had nothing to do with me and everything to do with my life.
Years before I was born, two children, one in Poland and one in Russia, each stepped onto a different ship. One was a girl, eight years old. The other a boy, thirteen. The eight year old was alone. There was no family to hold her hand. There was no family to stand at the dock and wish her well as she departed. She probably had a card either pinned to her clothing, or hung on a cord or rope from her neck. The card would have had her name and little else. She would have been surrounded by other children, all duly identified. She wouldn’t have known where she was going, and she wouldn’t have known what would happen to her after she arrived.
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