I read this piece two nights ago on this blog (language warning - she likes the drop word bombs that some of you may not want to read) and was reminded of a line of thought I've been nursing for a while.
Someone somewhere is -
sewing something lovely, something warm, something frivolous,
cooking something healthy, hearty, and delicious,
farming, plowing, harvesting,
milking a cow and laughing at a calf,
packaging up the fruit (or vegetables) of long labor,
stacking boxes, clothing, and food,
driving goods, people, and garbage,
pouring paint, milk, medications,
planning the next great electronic gadget, a sermon, or a meeting,
watching a screen of slow-moving blips - airplanes, heartbeats, and the floor numbers of an elevator,
studying to become a doctor, a lawyer, a judge, a teacher, and a great parent,
praying for peace, justice, and righteousness to reign,
reading words of hope, a love letter, and a last will and testament,
writing a thank you card, a "Dear Gail" letter, and an indecent proposal,
dreaming of a life without suffering, without abuse, grounded in love,
designing a new website, a new way of green living, a new curriculum,
organizing a messy guest room, an overstuffed closet, and an unruly filing cabinet,
ordering the pills you need to take, the spinach you love to eat, and the bolts necessary to fix the rickety bridge you are always nervous about driving over,
making phone calls of condolences, to relate good news, and to ask for forgiveness,
taking phone calls from a long lost child, a distant brother, and a frightened friend,
nursing a newborn baby, a woman in her final days of life, and a lonely teenaged daughter,
making a hearty pot of soup, an often-requested batch of chocolate chip cookies, and a mess in the kitchen,
chopping onions, shallots, and carrots,
cleaning a much-loved minivan, doggie paw prints off glass doors, and toothpaste splashes from the mirror,
rearranging books, children's clothing, and the broken pieces of a shattered heart,
shopping for groceries, warm socks, and a well-worded compliment,
dispatching firefighters, police officers, ambulances, and hugs,
making sure the internet, the phone lines, electricity, and water all keep flowing,
boxing up pots and pans, sporting equipment, and resentment,
unpacking a shipment of produce in the supermarket, a load of Tom's shoes in a small village just outside of a large city, and long-buried dreams.
Somebody somewhere is doing something that will make your life and my life run smoothly.
Somebody somewhere is picking a tea leaf that will show up in my tea cup.
Somebody somewhere is overseeing the canning of my favorite black beans.
Somebody somewhere is wondering when their sick child will be well again.
Somebody somewhere is hoping that the job will finally come through.
Somebody somewhere is pleading for another chance to make amends.
Someone somewhere is thinking about you, about me,
missing you, hoping that all is well in your world,
wishing you well, saying a prayer for your health and safety,
lighting a candle or a stick of incense, smiling, remembering,
writing a note, a card, a text, a blog - and thinking of you.
You are somebody somewhere.
What are you doing for somebody somewhere else?
What do you need to say to that somebody somewhere else?
What are you waiting for?
(Just because I don't want to confuse anybody, I am adding this addendum - I'm not sure why the date on this blog is Thursday, January 5, 2012. I began to write it that day but I'm posting it on Saturday, January 7th at 1:25 pm.)