Oh, my, thank you so for this remembrance, where I alone took my "boys," now approaching 50! Having just spent a week there with friends, reveling in the hardiness of the place, I was filled with gratitude. For it was there that I first truly embraced God, having been in church all my life. The feeling was God loving me (?!), though I was as small as a grain of sand, with all the big and tiny creatures there, and God is all powerful for sure but still provides solace to living creatures.
I also have been visiting the Outer Banks for 30+ years. There is a Physical mental and emotional reaction that occurs as you roll across that bridge. Watching the sunset from the top of Jockey’s Ridge is truly a mystical experience. I treasure my every visit.
Reading your lovely words and Mary Oliver’s poem is really an amazing way to start my day and prompt my reflection on the twins, resilience and fragility. I live about 90 minutes from the Outer Banks. The land and it’s people are amazing.
What a lovely way to start the day with your column about resilience and fragility. I think our world is struggling now with these two “opposing” concepts. The environment is revealing it’s fragility- who could imagine that are very existence is at threat? And yet, examples abound of wild life and communities who rise to meet these challenges and not only survive but prosper. Let each one of us be stewards of this fragile planet and protectors of our shared inheritance.
Dear Diana, Thank you for your reflection on resilience and fragility which is timely. The paradox about life is accurate, especially in these turbulent times. I know OBX beaches for the pristine beauty and the season of the turtles birthing at the edge of the sea. It is pure Grace!
Discovered today a nest of recently hatched bunnies in a flowerbed... here the same thing: the fragility, vulnerability... the utmost sweetness and extraordinary peacefulness in the midth of exposure and lurking danger.... thanks for a beautiful, soulful peace of writing.
An appreciative reader but not a natural comment-er. Your writing has helped me in many ways, Diana, but this was especially timely.
I have taken to singing a lullaby during this past year to my two-year-old granddaughter, Naomi Grace. It began as verse that I remember my own father singing, not as a lullaby, but as special music at various churches. I believe it is the "Song of the Breton Fishermen". . . although the lyrics that I "googled" don't match my iron-clad-memory. I supplemented with my own. :-)
"Dear God, dear God, be good to all.
The Sea is so wide, my boat is so small.
So carry me on today.
And keep us in Your Way."
Your story of trust and turtles reminded of this song. And of Naomi Grace, bundled in my arms, sleepily whispering, "Pa-k. . . . sing 'Dear God'".
Another very thoughtful read....much thanks for pointing out the (so often overlooked) obvious connection (a both-sides-of-the-coin connection) that fragility and resilience have/are.
I once visited the Outer Banks where the wild horses are. We had to take a ferry to get to the island...Shackleford I think. Our host had a Jesse Helms bumpersticker and a NPS is not a native species bumpersticker (National Park Service). They were instrumental in saving and preserving the horses and so generous to show us around. Talk about creatures living on the edge--the horses eating marsh grass and briny water and like all the other creatures there surviving the hurricanes. thanks for reminding me of the Outer Banks.
We're heading to the Outer banks next week for an annual time with family at Duck. A copy of this will go with us! Thank you, for these beautiful words.
I love your writing each time I receive it, each book of yours I read, but this today was special. Thank you.
Oh, my, thank you so for this remembrance, where I alone took my "boys," now approaching 50! Having just spent a week there with friends, reveling in the hardiness of the place, I was filled with gratitude. For it was there that I first truly embraced God, having been in church all my life. The feeling was God loving me (?!), though I was as small as a grain of sand, with all the big and tiny creatures there, and God is all powerful for sure but still provides solace to living creatures.
Resilience as grace, rather than grit ,is a perspective changer.
Oh Diana, the longer I live the more evident it is that all of existence is a beautiful manifestation of grace becoming that which it is.
What a poignant and lovely reflection! The last paragraph is so gorgeous and resonant--a source for pondering today. Thank you!
I also have been visiting the Outer Banks for 30+ years. There is a Physical mental and emotional reaction that occurs as you roll across that bridge. Watching the sunset from the top of Jockey’s Ridge is truly a mystical experience. I treasure my every visit.
Reading your lovely words and Mary Oliver’s poem is really an amazing way to start my day and prompt my reflection on the twins, resilience and fragility. I live about 90 minutes from the Outer Banks. The land and it’s people are amazing.
What a lovely way to start the day with your column about resilience and fragility. I think our world is struggling now with these two “opposing” concepts. The environment is revealing it’s fragility- who could imagine that are very existence is at threat? And yet, examples abound of wild life and communities who rise to meet these challenges and not only survive but prosper. Let each one of us be stewards of this fragile planet and protectors of our shared inheritance.
Dear Diana, Thank you for your reflection on resilience and fragility which is timely. The paradox about life is accurate, especially in these turbulent times. I know OBX beaches for the pristine beauty and the season of the turtles birthing at the edge of the sea. It is pure Grace!
Discovered today a nest of recently hatched bunnies in a flowerbed... here the same thing: the fragility, vulnerability... the utmost sweetness and extraordinary peacefulness in the midth of exposure and lurking danger.... thanks for a beautiful, soulful peace of writing.
So beautiful. Thank you for including the photos - the tiny babies. Such a beautiful place. I hope to go there some day.
An appreciative reader but not a natural comment-er. Your writing has helped me in many ways, Diana, but this was especially timely.
I have taken to singing a lullaby during this past year to my two-year-old granddaughter, Naomi Grace. It began as verse that I remember my own father singing, not as a lullaby, but as special music at various churches. I believe it is the "Song of the Breton Fishermen". . . although the lyrics that I "googled" don't match my iron-clad-memory. I supplemented with my own. :-)
"Dear God, dear God, be good to all.
The Sea is so wide, my boat is so small.
So carry me on today.
And keep us in Your Way."
Your story of trust and turtles reminded of this song. And of Naomi Grace, bundled in my arms, sleepily whispering, "Pa-k. . . . sing 'Dear God'".
Grateful.
Another very thoughtful read....much thanks for pointing out the (so often overlooked) obvious connection (a both-sides-of-the-coin connection) that fragility and resilience have/are.
I once visited the Outer Banks where the wild horses are. We had to take a ferry to get to the island...Shackleford I think. Our host had a Jesse Helms bumpersticker and a NPS is not a native species bumpersticker (National Park Service). They were instrumental in saving and preserving the horses and so generous to show us around. Talk about creatures living on the edge--the horses eating marsh grass and briny water and like all the other creatures there surviving the hurricanes. thanks for reminding me of the Outer Banks.
What a wonderful last paragraph, Diana. Fragility and resilience, helpers we don't know are there. Grace.
We're heading to the Outer banks next week for an annual time with family at Duck. A copy of this will go with us! Thank you, for these beautiful words.