A delicate balance exists in my heart right now; the devastation from the Sonoma, Napa, and Solano County fires is hard to wrap my head around, although every time I step outside I’m reminded by the smoggy sky and smoky aroma. I’m feeling blessed to be out of the danger zone, but helpless when considering all that has been lost by so many. I’ve written about this sensation recently,yet here are those emotions again. In a matter of minutes homes were destroyed, whole neighborhoods wiped away. The awesome power exhibited by these fires is chilling, and I struggle to find words strong enough to convey my thoughts.
The last few nights I’ve been completing a quilt started months ago, but set aside for other projects in need of my attention. Amid baseball playoffs, my husband would switch to the local news as I attended to a comforter meant for dear friends who before the end of the month will become first time grandparents. This quilt was made for that coming nieta, but abuelos require a blanket too, for future days of cuddles and fortbuilding. I’ll send it off once the good news arrives, so when they return home after meeting their newest family member, a quilt will remind them of love far away.
And therein lies the basis for these reflections, how life continues even when so much seems impossible to believe. I have to admit that once I had attached the binding on this quilt, joy overwhelmed me, for how long it’s taken this project to come to fruition and the bliss attached to it. Yet to go outside to photograph it immediately hearkened to tragedy and ruin. I tackle these themes in my writing, how much good can come from what seems so bleak. But reality is a sledgehammer compared to fiction. It’s a lot for this grandma to ponder.
One thing I can do is use my time and talents to lessen the pain of others. The second set of plus blocks still waiting to be sewn together will be donated, along with a few other of my creations, once I turn those blocks into a finished comforter. There is of course prayer, which I have offered fervently on behalf of those who are now homeless, as well as all those working above and beyond the call to contain these fires. Then there is a focused appreciation for my quiet little neck of the proverbial woods; daily irritations slip away when the massive scope of such desolation is considered. And finally a post written to somehow take stock, even if just a few scattered words trying to make sense of what seems so senseless.
What comes back to me is how brief are our lives, and how vital it is to do good, to love, and to hope for the best. Sometimes that is all we can do.