Saturday, August 15, 2015

Missing Me

                                             ALL PHOTOS/EDITS BY RUTH RADER

We all tend to miss the beauty that is hidden in small places. And the same can be
said for the special goodness within some people.

Many people saw me this past week. They sure did.

I stood on a street corner or sat beside a road with my thumb out in the wind. I crossed
two States and a long list of locations...including crowded cities and little known
small towns.

And I wondered...when I looked into the faces of  all those people...what did they see
when they looked back at me?

This Country is all about communication today...we have instant photos and Facebook and
texting and You-tube videos and email and Skype. Our words are now tethered to a screen and
a tower or a satellite somewhere.

Yet we have become so insular...that we walk out every day and
seek out what we know...what we approve
of and clearly understand.

And we dismiss what doesn't fit into our own familiar frame.

It makes me wonder...if a feather fell in front of some people...would they ever see the angel from
which it came?

I listen to music...on my laptop and also over the signal on my cell phone. Our ears
are open to many options now. But many people's hearts have closed. They only hear
what they choose to hear, now.

Some people can't hear me, anymore. My words burn into a smoke that quickly drifts

I wonder what would happen if I created a sign?

Then would my message get through to everyone?

Would my attitude toward life be viewed like a mural on a wall?

Or ignored?

I can sing very well. I have been told so...many times. I write with a unique shade of
creativity...I have been told that, too. I can draw out cute cartoons, put together great
playlists and listen to a tearful tale of woe with genuine empathy.

I do it all of the time.

I can gather flowers and arrange them perfectly. I can do the same with a collage of

I am literate to an advanced degree (except when I forget where I put something) and often experience moments in a day like they
are frames in a movie.

But how many people see all of that in me...when I am wrapped in a peace-symbol
blanket and sitting in my walker/chair?

And is that why I still don't have a decent, clean, safe and affordable home of my own?

Will someone open the door that is connected to my home?


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