hula-hoops and a garage

A  sandy-haired 10 year-old stood on the steps of her townhome swaying her hips in an attempt to keep the pink and purple hula-hoop twirling and looping around her waist.  There was not a trace of defeat as she hunched her back and draped her arms to once again retrieve the hoop from the cement to place it around her waist.

Not too many yards away from her was a shaggy-haired, 5-o'clock shadow wearing man working beside his one-car garage.  He moved his handsaw back and forth diagonally along the birch bark branch.  After a closer look, it became apparent that the previous bird-perch, shadow provider, leaf grower would soon find its new occupation as the support to a hand-crafted tv remote perch, a coffee-mug rest, a magazine holder.

It was two years ago that a 11-year old girl laden with her purple backpack and swinging her lunch bag entered her townhome garage at 4:00 after a spring day of learning at her elementary school.  I am sure the day was filled with many of the usual activities: silent reading; microscope viewing; hopscotch jumping; and problem solving.  But her life changed instantly upon finding her mother dead, hanging from the garage beam. She arrived before her 9-year-old sister; she arrived to bear the news alone.

As I passed the townhomes on my run the other day, I was reminded of the beauty, simplicity, tragedy, and complexity of life.  Hula-hoops, hand-made crafts, suicide, and suffering all mix together and create what we call life.  I am moved to be thankful for the simple joys of this life and I am moved to pray fervently for the suffering of those who hunch their backs, drape their arms, and pick themselves up and move on in life while laden with the secrets and grief of tragedy and hardship.