Creative Writing: Pittsburgh

It is early afternoon, and we are sitting in our warm home on a cold fall day as my husband reads out loud the names of the 11 victims of a violent crime in Pittsburgh last week.

Jerry Rabinowitz, a physician who always wore a bowtie; two brothers Cecil and David; a 97-year old holocaust survivor whose first name was Rose; Bernice and Sylvan Simon, a couple in their eighties; and then, there was Richard, and Joyce, and Daniel and Irwing and Melvin.

Something breaks deep within my heart as I hear each name fill the air: Jerry, Cecil, David, Rose, Bernice, Sylvan, Richard, Joyce, Daniel, Irwing and Melvin. I feel like I ought to stand up to somehow show my respect.

I am aware that there are children, and nephews and moms and dads and grandchildren and bosses and employees and clients and patients and neighbors wrapped up in each one of these precious names. And even though I did not know Jerry, Cecil, David, Rose, Bernice, Sylvan, Richard, Joyce, Daniel, Irwing or Melvin, I am deeply affected by their death, feeling outrage and grief.  

I stare at the leaves dancing off the trees into the yard and think of how they lived their whole cycle of life, and they are ending their days in beauty. But Rose, she survived the Holocaust only to still be murdered in the name of hatred. And Jerry, Cecil, David, Bernice, Sylvan, Richard, Joyce, Daniel, Irwing and Melvin, they did not get to live out their cycle of life.

My heart is heavy. I find myself tempted to abandon joy and just feel sorry for the sad state of our world. But then I read and re-read and re-re-read my sweet daughter-in-law Christine’s conclusion in the face of this atrocity, “I don’t really have words for what it is to have something so hateful happen in the city I love so much. All I know is that I will continue to love my neighbor and my God so that I can show my children how not to be filled with hate or fear others.”

I exhale all the grief and despair. Then I inhale deeply, thanking God for giving her such insight and strength. I will take my place next to Christine.  

What’s up with these ridiculously small seeds?

Sometimes, seeds are planted into us and we let them grow into beautiful entities.

Someone told me once that I was a good listener and I asked great questions. I believed her, and I become a life coach, totally fulfilling my purpose in life. I thank God every day for that seed planted in me!

Sometimes, we are the ones planting seeds in ourselves.

Either way, seeds are at the very core of all we are.

They are so very small but oh-so-powerful. I mean, look at the acorn and the massive oak tree, right?

 

Oak-Tree-seed

Seeds look dead.

And if we don’t bury them in the ground where it is dark and wet, they never come to life.

We must sow, nurture, and water them. We must keep weeds away from them. We must love them into seedlings.

And as we care for these seedlings, they have a chance to grow stronger and stronger, until they become what they were meant to be.

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I love the possibility that seeds hold.

Power in the tiny. 

Power in the growth.

Potential unlimited.

 

And just as the oak tree sleeps in the acorn, your very future sleeps in your dream.

How are YOU going to bring it to life?

Here are a couple of questions to help you figure it out:

  • What makes me feel happy and fulfilled?
  • If I could do anything and wouldn’t fail, what would I choose?

This thing you would choose, it can be YOUR seed.

Will you own it?

Will you sow it, nurture it, water it, keep it weed-free, protect it from the wind and allow it to come to fruition? Allow it to bear much fruit?

Your life is etched within the seeds you choose to plant and nurture.

Seeds:

      Sacred.

          Exponential.

              Extravagant.

                   Dazzling.

What is YOUR SEED? Please let me know! I’d love to help you discover it or sow it if you would like support! It starts with scheduling a free discovery mini-session with me! See you there.

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