The Breathtaking Enormity of Life

There are times when I feel the breathtaking enormity of life. Last week started easily enough with moving the bushes I bought last year to attract hummingbirds. They had overgrown the flowerbeds despite their tags describing them as not only fragrant and drought-tolerant, but growing three feet tall. I now believe they are abelia (and I can be wrong), which are all that and more, much more. It took almost 2 full days of digging and hauling to move them to the front yard where they can rise to whatever heights they see fit. That afternoon I sat to stretch my cramping legs that have been off all winter, that are not yet used to pushing the shovel into hard clay, and read a text from my husband on business in Chicago. Some person or group had set off bombs at the Boston marathon. As a long-distance runner, I tried to take it in, but couldn't. 

The next day, I landed in Boston on my way to Portland, Maine with my daughter who was interviewing for a job. The trek from gate to baggage claim was sparsely populated. I checked into my hotel about the time my husband texted me that he was stuck in Chicago due to unusually severe thunderstorms.  He wasn’t sure when he would be able to get home, but hoped to catch a flight out the next day. Oddly, I had left the backdoor open for

the dogs to come in and out even though he would have been home in plenty of time to take them on their evening walk and I had only left that morning. My son-in-law agreed to drive an hour to my house after work and check on them. The next day, my husband caught the hotel van to the airport. The ten-minute drive took over an hour as they snailed their way through flooding streets. He made his flight on time only to have the crew change from lack of sleep. This put him two hours later leaving and gave him 15 minutes to catch the connecting flight for home. 

Meanwhile, I drove the coast of Maine with my daughter, ate at the Merry Table, and met a wonderful woman from Bath at the Life Is Good store. At home, my ex-son-in-law learned my husband wouldn’t be arriving until late that night, if at all, so worked from my house and tended to my confused dogs. Boston went on lock-down after police had a shootout with the bombers, killing one and starting a manhunt for the other. My husband made it

home in the wee hours of Friday morning. He found the dogs were well cared for thanks to the good relationship my daughter maintains with her current and former husbands. She and I arrived in Boston for our return flight where TSA has the kinks worked out. There were no delays in security and the flights were on-time. The crowds were thicker not from security problems, but from passengers deciding to leave early so they wouldn’t be trapped in a closed-for-business town over the weekend. 

We woke up Saturday to sunny skies, a cool breeze and the news that the second bomber had been caught and was hospitalized. In Chicago, residents were mopping up and speculating about climate change and the increasing number of severe storms. The flood and the news were now moving down river to the towns trying to prepare for a crest of water topping 12 feet.  That afternoon, I gathered with women at a home in Chateau Elan to talk about the publication of a book to which we each contributed a chapter about overcoming seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Later at home, I checked on the transplanted bushes before going in for the evening and saw the first hummingbird of the season. 

Sunday, the world was too much with me. I sat in silence for most of the day. It was a time to catch my breath, give thanks for the safety of my family, and say prayers for the people around the world who daily handle the enormity of life with grace, dignity, and honor.