My
mother grew up in the hills and hollows of the purportedly oldest
mountains in the world, the Appalachians. Once when she and her
stair-step siblings were youngsters, they lived on the side of a
mountain in a clearing with forest below and forest above their home,
centered in a bare space between. She remembers a remarkable and
surely terrifying incident when they all ran for cover as a tornado hit
well below their house and made steady progress wreaking major mayhem as
it clear-cut a path up the mountain. Their house was directly in its
path.
Everyone
quickly managed to find adequate protective shelter,
except their mother -- whom I later learned to call "Grandmother Reece" This tiny woman, only 5'2", stood squarely in her
kitchen door that faced directly onto this approaching
disaster-diva! She was praying, demanding that tornado not touch
their home.
As it neared the clearing -- going uphill, mind you -- it jumped over the
house and continued on the other side up the thickly wooded slope above!
Just goes to show you another case of 'packaging means nothing'.
One of my earliest memories of her is that, at eight or nine, I felt to
be nearly as tall as she. She was this very kind, humble little
old lady with a twinkle in her button-black eyes. There's an
eternal mystery in all this somewhat analogous to Clark Kent / Superman
. . Thank Goodness for the Grandmother Reeces in our lives,
infrequent as they may be, to keep reminding us that not only are we
more than we can imagine, but we are more connected with ALL Life /
All That Is than we can imagine!
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