She walks in silence among the lilies dressed in white against the purple twilight as verse and chapter fade into the night, lost chords of song, unfinished symphonies, jigsaw puzzles of life’s perplexities — time to let go what once was held so tight let darkest hours await for gleams of light when morning breaks with possibilities.
I bask in the linen warmth of summer rejoicing with the creatures of the field on a warm July I will remember when doors closed shut, familiar pathways sealed I look to topaz days of November to start anew, heart’s joy will I not yield.
The air was a white, pearlescent haze as I walked upon the street cobblestones along some quaint shops in a New England village. A small leather bag hanged from my right wrist and in it were my credit cards, driver’s license, passport, and some dollar bills. I felt uncomfortable with the small bag as it was not the shoulder bag I usually carry around.
After walking a while, I sought refuge in a furniture store where I could rest my aching feet. It was then when I noticed that my little leather bag was no longer around my wrist. Suddenly I felt a whirlwind of panic — I have lost the objects of my identity! In the midst of my bewilderment, a kind, middle-aged lady approached me and I told her my plight. With a sweet, soothing voice she said, “My dear, everything can be replaced”.
I blinked and rubbed my eyes. It was all a dream.
The leather wrist bag flashed in my mind and immediately I was smacked with a shock of recognition: it was the exact same bag my father had given me to hold my passport, plane ticket and three single dollar bills when I left home decades ago to pursue graduate studies in a foreign land.
All I owned when I embarked on the plane were three single dollar bills, a few clothes in a small suitcase, and my name.
In a faraway land, God has faithfully provided for me through the promise of each new day, especially through difficult circumstances, across the landscapes of the seasons and the years.
In this life I can easily misplace so many worldly “things” which can be replaced. What I cannot lose is the essence of who I am as a child of God. Though the seedling has grown into a strong, tall tree which blossoms every spring, I am that same young lady who left everything behind, flew towards the stars, crossed oceans and mountains, to pursue a dream.
Upon the sand will I not build my house for when rains descend and floods overflow, the winds will howl and beat upon its walls and it will crumble, great will be its fall
I need no chandeliers, nor porcelain china, hand-painted with silver and gold, no dinner dainties with a fattened ox, content am I to dine on herbs with love.
I seek a shelter strong with warmth and light where rains and winds and floods can’t topple down and love burns bright in apple wood hearth fires and nightingale songs fill the evening air —-
Upon solid rock will I build my house, there will I find emeralds and rubies.
Today, a day amazing of sunlight sprinkles and skin-tingling cool wisps of springtime air, of parking decks and flights of steps to catch a hooting train, New York-bound —-
on the upper train deck, I read David’s psalm passages in Kindle app through local station stops (slow boat to China)
walked from Penn Station to 29th and 8th , my daughter met me in her Subaru and we snaked our way around the New York City traffic jungle towards downtown, found a lucky parking spot, had brunch with a window seat (Gwyneth Paltrow’s haunt)
walked almost a thousand steps throughout Soho and West Village, stopping for iced coffee, and afterwards dessert with prosecco (classy French place)
Back at Penn Station, hopped on the Northeast Corridor train to New Brunswick, a family with young kids, and an elderly couple who visited Coney Island, the grey-haired man said each year he spends his birthday there I caught the joy in the tremor of his voice.
I missed my stop. (first time after so long)
Next stop, Princeton Junction, the conductor announced, Thankfully Uber.
fetched by a shining light blue Tesla, (I was expecting a Toyota) driven back to New Brunswick station
Almost 10 pm. Elevator to parking deck out of service. Ascended the stairs, startled by a dark-haired man, shabbily dressed, spoke to me in Spanish, no more trains, he said, he will walk up the stairs with me
No, I said and ran back down to an almost abandoned platform save for a redheaded, muscular young male seated on the waiting bench. He walked up with me to the parking deck, made sure I got in my car safely. (he was an angel unaware)
Most this amazing day. (phrase from E.E. Cumming’s poem)
lilies, sparrows and grass 
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