Last week was an endless week of carnage and destruction. When the Des Plaines River flooded on Thursday, it was as if it was as overcome with grief as those living around it.
Every day of last week brought more grim news and sadness. First there was the inexplicable horror of the Boston Marathon. Then came the funeral of Anne Smedinghoff, a 26 year old diplomat killed in Afghanistan by a suicide bomber while delivering textbooks to children. She was born and raised in River Forest, and white ribbons were tied around every tree in town to the tragedy of her death. And then finally the epic flooding all around Chicago. The sand bags, the helicopters overhead, the constant text messages and phone messages of flooding alerts, and the grisly manhunt through Boston. It was an unbearable onslaught of carnage. I’ve never been more glad to close my eyes on a Sunday night, waiting to wake up to the chaos of Monday morning, the promise of a new week free of death and natural disasters.
In the midst of all this sadness, a friend posted a beautiful poem reaffirming her personal credo on Facebook. Filled with the beautiful images about the power of home cooked meals and the joy of a cup of coffee, it got me inspired to write my own. Here goes.
I believe that living each day in full, out loud, and in color is more important than having a clean house.
I believe that dreams are powerful when not postponed to a distant future. Life can be cruelly long or brutally short, why wait to make it the life you long for?
I believe in buying golden European butter, not fancy shoes.
I believe that every meal should be feast, that every night is a good reason to open a special bottle of wine, and that time should stand still around the dinner table.
I believe that a kiss does have the power to make a hurt go away.
I believe that even the worst day can be made whole by a sunset walk with tiny fingers nestled in my hand.
Now it’s your turn. What do you believe?