My life has been exceptionally busy as of late, thus I have abandoned the ever-important practice of writing regularly. I'll be back to it soon, as I move into my new apartment tomorrow! I will be living with none but a ferret; the change of pace will be very drastic, but I'm looking forward to the next couple months of new adventures and lessons.
My heart is broken right now for a dear friend of mine from the restaurant next door. This person (whose name I cannot say for his sake) has been living in Paris for the past 5 years, as he has been exiled from his country for writing things his government doesn't approve of. He was forced to leave his wife and two daughters, found work here as a cook, and works long days and long weeks to support his family financially. His daughters were 1 and 3 when he left; they are now 6 and 8, and he has been robbed of being a father and watching them grow up. He had many problems his whole life, which he wont discuss, but finds this situation actually good. He doesn't complain about missing his family, or about the fact that he is stuck here (he can't even leave France at this point); he is just grateful he can give his family a house and food.
This last week he came over to the restaurant, and told us that his wife's heart is bad, she is in pain, and she needs a surgery (which will be the second one she has had) in order to live. He did his best to hide the tears that have lived behind his eyes for so long, but the shaking in his voice as he calmly wondered aloud why someone so young and beautiful will have to leave her family prematurely, he could not cover. Even if the surgery goes well, she may only have a few years left before her heart is too weak.
My friend is faced with the uncertainty of when and how he will return to take care of his daughters, and the impending question of how long their mother will be around remains.
Things feel hopeless for him. He is mad.
At one point he looked up at the sky, and shouted,
"What are you doing?! Where are you!?"
Then to me he said,
"Yeah, I've been on my knees talking to Him all week. It's all I can do, you know?"
I thought of how kind he is and how hard he works (thanklessly) and how real he is.
I smiled and said,
"Friend, be angry. There are things in the world to be angry about. That's ok. You've got the right idea though; there's One who is just as angry about things not being right, and talking to Him about it is the best place to start."
You wouldn't know where he has been and what he's going through by looking at him. You couldn't possibly know the pain he lives in, and the survivor that he really is, without taking time to see him, to sit down and exist with him. When you remember that everyone has a story (and no less than an amazing one), and that the only place to start is listening, you're on the right track.
So be slow to judge, slow to decide, slow to make up your mind about someone, slow to dismiss, slow to classify, slow to write off.
And be quick to listen, quick to sit down, quick to see, quick to notice the unseen, quick to speak up for the unheard, quick to remember.
Rule One
by Philip Booth
Rule One of all
rules one:
No one ever knows
how much another hurts.
Kate. Ray. Randall. Me.
who were kind to you, the gas-pump kid
across the bridge, the waitress here
this noon.
No one ever knows.
Or maybe in a thousand, one
has the toughness to,
to give beyond a selfish pity. Even
any given day,
chances of what look like luck,
if we feel bad
What blighted lives we lead.
showering, feeding, changing shirts or
pants, working, as one used to say,
to make ourselves presentable.
strangers to our painful selves,
we're still stranger to
diminished friends
when they appear
to hurt.
How much we fail them,
failing to come close:
newly single, in Seattle;
an upstate poet in intensive care.
You. Blanche. Alvin. Sue.
and why.
Why we guess we know.
How much we never.
"Rule One" by Philip Booth, from Selves: New Poems. © Viking, 1990. Reprinted with permission.
Stay real, and do what you do.
☮
♥ hannah lee
This story moved me to tears Miss Hannah Lee. You still have fabulous writng abilities. Since I haven't been able to reach you I decided I needed to start snooping on your blog. All has reigned true that your heart is still beautiful. I regret not tapping into this resource sooner. I was deeply moved by this section " So be slow to judge, slow to decide, slow to make up your mind about someone, slow to dismiss, slow to classify, slow to write off." Recently I've been battling with a relationship at home. I've been telling myself if they do this I know I will react like that. I know that's vague but I need to be slower to react. My heart longs for you and I can never say enough how blessed I am to have you in my life. Remember the first time we: skinny-dipped, stayed up too late, ate too many cookies, shared our deepest secrets, but most of all trusted eachother? It's not easy being thousands of miles of apart and on a seven hour time difference but this a beautiful love story between friends. It gets hard and harder but their will be relief and we will reunite. I lay in bed so many nights hoping that you know you are always on my mind.
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