Monday, March 8, 2010
Rain. Parades. Patience.
I am generally not an Oscar-watcher, but got caught up in it last night. I was very happy that 'Up' won. Squirrel! But I turned off the award show shortly after this memorable moment when Music By Prudence director Roger Ross Williams went up to accept an award and was kanye-ed by some seemingly random woman.
Prior to this evening I'd never heard of the movie. Nevermind it's director. But, quenching an apparent drought in my blogging lately, I was really moved by something on Larry King tonight. Larry gave this man the floor tonight to... well... make the Oscar acceptance speech he'd intended to give last night. A little awkward, but sweet nonetheless.
Did you know his mother, his 87 year old mother, flew on a plane for her very first time just to be there? No one in that audience would know. He was kanye-ed. Did you know that the name of Prudence's band, 'Leona,' means rain? He goes on, in this day-later speech tonight, to say that in Zimbabwe — rain is a gift from God.
I think it's interesting that sometimes you have to wait after you feel like you have been wronged, or interrupted, or derailed, to realize that this 'wrong' may very well have been a blessing. Or a mercy.
Had his parade last night not been rained on... we wouldn't be talking about him or his film.
Sometimes we need to maintain patience and grace. Then look back to be able to better understand the mercies that have been laid on us. And how they will unfold. And impact our lives.
And now, my blogging-drought is quenched. On my first Sligo walk today since the DC snowstorms of February, snow has melted, sidewalks are reappearing, and crocus are blooming. Even forced blooms from a dogwood branch that fell in the snows are finally beginning to open.
Mother nature doesn't lie. While the snows may not be over, if we can keep our eye on the inevitable spring to come, I know that focus, and patience, will be rewarded.
Move forward, be kind, have mercy, have patience with others. With ourselves. With life. As, be it from a drought or a freeze, we will thaw out. Come into our own. Begin to blossom again. And get ready to get on with the rest of our lives, our weeks, our day.
©2010 Wendy Hudgins
Tags: twenty-six letters