A Question

It was a cold and dark night in Caracas, as the taxi wound its way slowly waiting for approval to continue from the armed militia guarding the road,

I remember thinking:

“How did I get here from Hells Kitchen?”

Of course, it was neither a dream nor an accident.

My husband had suffered a heart attack earlier that day while in Venezuela on business. With the kindness of both strangers and friends, I was now en route to the Clinica where he was a patient.

This morning exactly thirty five years later, I looked out at snow falling and asked myself the same identical question:

“How did I get here from Hells Kitchen?”

Admittedly, it is not a simplistic answer but reminiscent of the curved road I once had traveled on another night,

And now as I grope for answers, I recall the words written by John Donne:

"Go and catch a falling star,

Get with child a mandrake root, Tell me where all past years are,

Or who cleft the Devil's foot : Teach me to hear mermaids singing,

Or to keep off envy's stinging,

And find

What wind

Serves to advance an honest mind."

And the words challenge me to stop searching, but embrace the gifts of generosity, love and faith that make my continuing journey possible.