We measure time by its deaths, yes, and by its births.
For time is told also by life.
As some depart, others come.
The hand opened in farewell remains open in welcome.
As some depart, others come.
The hand opened in farewell remains open in welcome.
[…] And time that is told by death and birth
is held and redeemed by love, which is always present.
Time, then, is told by love’s losses,
and by the coming of love,
and by love continuing in gratitude for what is lost.
is held and redeemed by love, which is always present.
Time, then, is told by love’s losses,
and by the coming of love,
and by love continuing in gratitude for what is lost.
It is folded
and enfolded
and unfolded
forever and ever,
the love by which the dead are alive
and the unborn welcomed into the womb.
The great question for the old and the dying,
I think, is not if they have loved and been loved enough,
but if they have been grateful enough
for love received and given, however much.
No one who has gratitude is the onliest one.
Let us pray to be grateful to the last.
~ Wendell Berry in Andy Catlett
No one who has gratitude is the onliest one.
Let us pray to be grateful to the last.
~ Wendell Berry in Andy Catlett
A Living Pencil 
That is simply beautiful, Carol – no one puts it quite like he does!Carrie
oh, how i love this passage. thanks for reminding me of it this morning when it was exactly what I needed to hear. We are blessed. Had a wonderful day with Dad. My heart is full. Love to you – been stalking all of your pictures. What a crew. Blessings abound.Love,Stephie
Words to save in a bottle: May I forward it to my mom? Her mom’s time on earth… folded, enfolded, unfolded? She would have been 100 next month. I introduced a new friend (a poet) to Wendell Berry. I hope she also finds him the way he allows his readers to find themselves
Wonderful! Thank you so much.