Saturday, May 9, 2009

Coming Home

First, there were the taxes, then shearing the sheep…and finally I have just returned from bringing my daughter home from school in Oklahoma.   While inching our way through  nine states, through sun, rain, forests, over hills, in our little four cylinder, the thought or essence of home was never far from my mind.  As a child, I  remember my mother had a way of saying, when far from home, “I’m dying to get home for a cup of tea,” with such conviction that I knew the value she placed on her home and a good cup of tea in her life.  What stirred my spirits as I hurried on towards home  this past week, was  nothing so simple and honest as a cup of tea but my thoughts were  of reorganizing my life,…new projects, new priorities, a new simplicity, a new peace, a new beginning…in a way that one must leave in order to rediscover.

I also thought of the changes in my life this past winter and how I had lost my dear friend and neighbour, Bill.  Despite being 84 years of age, Bill was always ready to work alongside me, mending fences, gates, sinking posts, planting our garden  and as we worked, he sang or told tales, tales that after a life time needed to be told.  How deeply I will miss his songs, his stories, his strength this spring.  Bill was blessed with an inner driving force that kept him moving forward, always ready to embrace each new day, the best and the worst of it, leaving yesterday to the past.  And such was the vitality within him that to work along side him was to move ahead with him. I who tend to languish in the moment have always needed to borrow from other people’s momentum.

He considered himself a rich man indeed.  He once remarked to me during his illness,” I have a good family, good neighbours and a good home…I would like to have lived longer but what are you going to do?”  What could one say but nod, feeling the depth of his regret.  Family, friends, home and a great respect for life and all beings were at the heart of his stories.

It comes as no surprise to me that he loved horses.  He loved to tell me how in England after the war, leaving  his home in Ukraine, he worked for a farmer, named Mr. Westman, repairing his farm equipment.  Mr. Westman had a horse on the farm that was getting old and he decided to sell it.  All the arrangements were made and the horse was to leave for his new home shortly after Bill left work for the day. His new home was to be about fifty miles away.  The next morning as Bill arrived at the gate to his amazement, there was the old horse standing waiting patiently at the gate .  Up the driveway, the two walked through  fog and mist as he had through the night. “Hey Mr. Westman, I thought you got rid of this horse.”  Mr. Westman starred in disbelief at this horse who had never been more than five miles from the farm in his life.  Tears filled his eyes and he resolved that the horse would stay on the farm for the rest of his life.

I think back to my first blog post this past autumn where I spoke of the essence of home and how one’s life journey is all about returning home.  Jacob understood that well, under his starry sky.  My friend, Bill, understood that also.

                                                                                                                                                  Bill Szmyrko

Some song  and sentimentality….

www.youtube.com/watch?v=VoSdsfJudGE

…a few more thoughts to  follow.

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