Mixed Media and Art Journals. Crazy Quilting. Fiber Art. Ramblings. Maybe Some Gardening.
Monday, March 7, 2011
My son is in Chile, and from all accounts, is having the time of his life. He has been working on an organic farm, making new friends, and learning Spanish. He sends me a short email message every few days, not so much to communicate about his trip, but to reassure me that he is alive and well perched on the Ring of Fire. He is nonchalant about the earthquakes that occur almost daily, saying that anything less than 5 on the Richter scale is a "tremor". Today he told me that he is traveling to Valdivia where the strongest earthquake on record (9.5!) shook the town to bits in 1960. It occurred to me that my feelings about this are somewhat akin to those of mothers of soldiers. I am in no way comparing my son's trip to Chile to the experiences of soldiers facing enemies on front lines in the middle East. I am talking about my feelings about his being far away, with potential danger near, and my being powerless to help him if he needs it. My son is in a relatively safe situation, unlike our soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan. My level of fear for him is quite uncomfortable. I would imagine that for the mothers of young soldiers the fear can be unbearable at times. I think of a friend whose son is in Iraq for a second tour. That has got to be hard. Yet we do what mothers have always done. Pray for them and put one foot in front of the other until they come home.