How do you pen the life of a 100 years on a paper in black and white?
In the newspaper it goes like this:
“Was born, was baptized, was married to, and died.
Preceded in death, and survivors include….”
As if life could be fitted into a fill-in-the-blank formula.
There was so much more to her.
How do you include the way her wrinkly voice (yes, her voice was wrinkly too) would say, “Much obliged!” and how she would wave from the window as we left?
What about the way she loved her flowers and got up early to pick strawberries on dewy May mornings?
How do you tell how she would stay up late at night reading like a night owl?
How do you write about the years of farming, of eking out a living on a prairie riddled with drought?
Or the pink and cream mommi crackers she would always give us when we visited?
How do you write about her love for the birds and how she fed them faithfully and knew the names of each kind?
Did you write of the hours that she prayed for us, sitting in her chair on her orange and brown afghan?
Or about the time she chased the squirrel down from the birdfeeder with her rolled-up newspaper?
What about the years of the Dust bowl, how the storms loomed up over the prairie, and how the dust gritted in her mouth so thick she could scarcely breathe?
How do you include all she saw, from the Roaring 20’s to the Dust Bowl to World War 2 to the Vietnam War, to the age of technology and Covid19?
How do you pen a 100 years in black and white?
Born on the rugged prairies, a tiny Kansas sunflower.
A woman of prayer.
The essence of kindness, faithfulness, and generosity.
She lived. She died.
And she loved.