Love -In Any Language

 A group of residents of a local facility met with my colleague and I for an initial meeting toward creating a segment of an upcoming talent show. The intent is to glean from their memories, the rich slices of life they can share, weaving it into a story that is their Story.

These women, all there just to observe, had powerful images to share in response to my colleague's questions.

 From our sharing, it was revealed that the activities aide, my colleague, and the administrator have roots in the same small city in Indiana. We learned that two of the women have the same middle name - Joy - which both had been called all their lives. I learned that I was the oldest one there!!

One of the women is a full Cherokee, is very skilled at making dream catchers, Spirit doors, etc. and will be presenting  Cherokee dancing with her sister soon. This woman is very well acquainted with Cherokee tradition and was born in the original Cherokee settlement in Kentucky. (She is also very good at sharing the pain from stories passed on to her, still alive in her young heart, of the Trail of Tears.

Needless to say, people are eager for their stories to be heard.

My colleague and I are going to shed any procedures we might have available to follow. Instead, we will arrive each week with an open heart, ask more questions, and watch while their willingness to participate grows.

I was addressed by the commonality we all share as women. Men, are of course welcome, but seem to be scarce at the moment. It may be they traditionally have a tendency to maintain their independence longer, until they are much less able to be communicative.

Being invited to share one's life is rare. As one woman said today, no one in her whole life has even given a hoot about the loving memories she might share.She added that almost all she has shared is her problems and even that was like talking to herself.

They got a laugh out of my telling a story about a friend who wouldn't let her husband take me to pick up my car that was in the shop. It is a ten minute drive  and wouldn't be a half hour out of his life. She said he had an appointment. Because I would have had to go out of my way to avoid it, I went by their house on the way to a yard sale (in my golf cart) and back an hour and a half later, I  ran in to another friend at the sale who agreed to take me. The friend's husband's  car was there when I went by and when I came back and again when I came home an hour after, driving my car.

I shared how I felt and a couple of the women joined in with humorous  remarks about getting revenge.

I then related my conclusion on the whole affair. People are people and if I love who I am where I am, I accept other people's behavior. I do not know their reasons for why they act as they do. I accept it and that, I propose is love - in any language.

This is a posting of love among people. I know that for years, there was a movement to wash it out and hang it on the line to dry, but these days, I am finding that the unconditional aspect of love, is of the utmost importance.

What is the love story you have to tell?