Member-only story
Based on Mark 12:41–44; Luke 21:1–4; 1 Kings 17:10–16 of Holy Writ
The following is imagined.
It may not have happened this way.
But then again, it might have.
I have had a long life and, on balance, one of contentment. To say it has been a happy one may be an overstatement.
My understanding of life is that we are not necessarily put here to be happy. Rather, we are here to help others on their journey, to lighten their load, if possible, to lift them when they fall.
That is what my parents believed. Much of what I think I owe to them.
I was an only child. My parents wanted to have a son, both before and after me. They tried and sought the will of Yahweh. He didn’t answer directly, but I think it was not in His plan that I have a brother. Someday we may know what we don’t now.
My parents were good to me. I could not have asked for better. I’m not sure I deserved them.
My father was a fisherman and never made more than a passable living. When he was not fishing, he often tended boats, which required almost constant attention, and mended nets. There were others like him with whom he worked.
My mother kept house. I spent more time with her. It was she who taught me how to sew, cook, and tend garden. We grew some of our own vegetables. Our source of water was a well behind the house.
