Have I ever mentioned that I am a big fan of the Shakers? And I don't just mean their furniture and aesthetic, co-opted by yuppies in the mid-80's for its clean, sparse style. I actually really dig the Shakers themselves. There was a great deal about their religion/philosophy that was, to quote my students, whack, including such ideas that sex was bad (causing their population to die out since they didn't, um, reproduce) and that their leader was Jesus' sister. Or maybe Jesus. I can't remember, but it involved reincarnation. But the idea that I do like was their core philosophy of "Hands to work, Hearts to God." I really respond to the idea that our hearts and souls sing praises, ask requests, yell and so on, whilst the rest of us gets down to it -- working, whether it be teaching, talking, writing, or any of the million of other tasks we go about doing in our daily lives.
My Godson is sick. It's hard to say how sick he is. All signs seem hopeful and his parents and family are bravely going forward with hope in their heart and determination to get him big enough to have surgery. But he's tiny, only two months old, and I weep over his illness... and I weep for the other sick or lost children I never knew but who stay in my heart, children of friends. Their experience makes me especially afraid for David, although I also have faith in the good work of doctors. So I worry. Yet I have so much to do, day to day, and it's not piddling, unimportant stuff. It pales in comparison to the immensity of a serious illness, but it's not eating bon-bons and memorizing all the words to Avril Lavigne songs...it's stuff like seeing family, calling friends, working with my students, writing. I think that it is good to have something to do, actually: All I can do is follow the Shaker advice, really -- my hands and feet and mouth and so on keep going to work. My heart keeps praying and hoping and wishing that David will be absolutely fine.
I think he will be.
Now, I have more work to do.
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