To Be Continued . . .
Today I am grateful for conversations with my seven sisters in recent days. Each conversation was a nice connection. I am also grateful for the semblance of a cool breeze this morning.
I'm not quite done with Anna Quindlen. As I move away from my own recent birthday, I will wrap up my posts recapping some of Quindlen's ponderings in Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake. (Refer back to my posts from July 3rd and 5th.)
On the chapter about faith, Quindlen talks about her Catholic upbringing. On p. 145 she says:
"There was so much emphasis on form over faith, so much about head coverings and fish on Fridays and rote memorization. The lips moved but the mind was not engaged."
I can sure relate to that, except for the head coverings part. I can still recite the Act of Contrition and the Memorare. But I didn't really explore faith and spirituality until I was in my twenties.
She adds this: "This is not just the lot of Catholics. Few religions foster a searching approach to spirituality." Sadly, this seems to ring true. That is why, in my opinion, one can be religious and not spiritual, and one can be spiritual without being religious. They can complement one another, but if I had to pick, I would pick spirituality.
In the chapter titled "Push," Quindlen says this on p. 123 about raising children(she has three):
"It was an education, raising these children, but mainly for me, not so much for them." and "Having and raising children made me better than myself, but they did something else as well: they helped me learn to grow older."
Well-said. I am so grateful for all that being a parent has taught me. I am guessing the learning will never stop.
And the appropriate finale to this look at Quindlen's bits of wisdom comes near the end of her memoir, on p. 174, in the chapter titled "To Be Continued." She writes:
"It's not surprising to me that I can't really imagine what I will be like at eighty. I can't imagine myself at twenty. I know the anecdotes, the life passages, the resume. But to feel what that girl felt, to close my eyes and actually be her: it's beyond me."
Such poignant words as we age. The memories and the photos and other memorabilia live on, but the person I was at twenty is no longer here. I consider that a good thing. And I look forward to the hope of being 50, 60, 70, 80 and beyond.
I'm not quite done with Anna Quindlen. As I move away from my own recent birthday, I will wrap up my posts recapping some of Quindlen's ponderings in Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake. (Refer back to my posts from July 3rd and 5th.)
On the chapter about faith, Quindlen talks about her Catholic upbringing. On p. 145 she says:
"There was so much emphasis on form over faith, so much about head coverings and fish on Fridays and rote memorization. The lips moved but the mind was not engaged."
I can sure relate to that, except for the head coverings part. I can still recite the Act of Contrition and the Memorare. But I didn't really explore faith and spirituality until I was in my twenties.
She adds this: "This is not just the lot of Catholics. Few religions foster a searching approach to spirituality." Sadly, this seems to ring true. That is why, in my opinion, one can be religious and not spiritual, and one can be spiritual without being religious. They can complement one another, but if I had to pick, I would pick spirituality.
In the chapter titled "Push," Quindlen says this on p. 123 about raising children(she has three):
"It was an education, raising these children, but mainly for me, not so much for them." and "Having and raising children made me better than myself, but they did something else as well: they helped me learn to grow older."
Well-said. I am so grateful for all that being a parent has taught me. I am guessing the learning will never stop.
And the appropriate finale to this look at Quindlen's bits of wisdom comes near the end of her memoir, on p. 174, in the chapter titled "To Be Continued." She writes:
"It's not surprising to me that I can't really imagine what I will be like at eighty. I can't imagine myself at twenty. I know the anecdotes, the life passages, the resume. But to feel what that girl felt, to close my eyes and actually be her: it's beyond me."
Such poignant words as we age. The memories and the photos and other memorabilia live on, but the person I was at twenty is no longer here. I consider that a good thing. And I look forward to the hope of being 50, 60, 70, 80 and beyond.
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