Picking Up Dewdrops
A remarkable thing was
happening and we were too busy picking up dewdrops during our morning
prayer to even realize what it was. That which was of a Higher
Intelligence walked into our lives to put that natural order all ready
in place at our disposal.
Kemy and Rhonda, as the
two engaged in blissful play, should have been a beginning of wisdom for
us. If there had been a place to stop for analyzing possibilities we
would have awakened to the power in our hands. Strength of character is
built in just this way of someone learning from childhood how to care
for a person who is weaker.
It didn’t matter though
how simple our thinking; that of mopping floors, cooking, cleaning,
schooling and so on and so forth. All the family, too many to mention
from all sides stepped forth at one time or another to help in small
ways and in very crucial circumstances.
Rhonda was the hub of so
great a family and my dear uncle who had already seen the fire of death
on the island of Iwo Jima was wise to the way of death’s angels. This
was not Uncle Dennis, Dad’s brother, but Uncle Dan, Mother’s brother.
Uncle Dan was always
there for us with a light hearted way about him. He loved to joke about
our chickens with a chuckle and say, "Hmmm looks like frying size to
me!" Or about the pet goats, "You know they eat goats in Mexico!"
He owned a prize pick-up
he loved and I was the only one who could borrow it for this or that
project.
"Did you wash and sweep
out my truck?" He loved to joke with me, but it was only half a joke. He
was neat to a fault.
We abstained from the
holidays and what a blessing that was. With the weight of our struggle,
sometimes the immediate despair on us in a daily way didn’t allow a wait
for any particular time to go to the lake, have a small dinner party, or
meet with friends at any time, not just on a holiday.
These activities were at
our disposal and as close as the telephone for putting this or that
social into place. This part of my training was a shared learning. One
going to the boarding school, Chilocco, which was established with
military ethics and my father’s Christian beliefs. These teachings
telling of a daily warfare against forces of darkness was the greatest
blessing and it sustained us.
Only occasionally someone
would ask, "What’s the occasion? Is it someone’s birthday?" Whose cake
and ice cream?"
"Oh no special occasion."
The answer was usually disappointing and some might pursue the issue.
"Humph! Never heard of
having cake and ice cream for nothing."
Even the children were
kind enough not to comment about how much the questioning guest enjoyed
themself. Our fight had to be done with an immediate vigilance and our
enemy, depression, must be met with an opportunistic attitude. Sadness
was like a looming nasty beast ever breathing down our necks. Not a day
must go by without appreciating the simple and beautiful things in the
world around us.
So it was the thing to be
given to the family, extended and even into the tribe. Maybe we were and
we were too busy picking up dewdrops during our morning prayer to see
what was happening around us. Those who were observing, seeing what we
were doing with our own were quiet or if they did talk about us they
certainly were careful not to let us hear. If we had been students of
archeology what a tale we could tell. All the elements of change,
intrinsic cultural overlapping, introduction of new values into an
established old one was going on and we didn’t even know or understand
anything like that. Our only wish was to see to the care of a child who
we loved and was part of us.