Beginning

I guess I just start at the beginning. I have been following my sister's blog, feminismthecatholicfword, and was intrigued that her writer's voice was so similar to what I think of as my own. That is to say, reading her posts captured something in my own literary mind; something inspirational not only about her "hanging the truth out on the line" content, but also a captivation that rustled my inner writing voice.

So I decided to introduce you to my window on the world. I suppose we all have a unique vantage point on the world that surrounds us. It differs by home, work, local, and even country. For me, it was the country change that helped shape me, my perspectives, my aspirations.

In 1992, at the ripe old age of 15 I was given the amazing opportunity to spend a month overseas. It was in-part a vacation - a vacation is more like a week in the Carribean, a trip to Disney, or perhaps a few days in Paris - so this proved to be much more than that. A new language, a new culture, a new pace. A new picture into family and commitment. Pretty deep for a 15 year old, I know. I saw the countryside of Belgium and France; I learned what "old" really is - when a building from 1910 isn't. But most importantly I began to see people and humanity. It was seen in the gentle strength of my friend's mother and the generosity of his father, who took in workers who traveled from Poland searching for employment to send money home to their families. It was as the Star led the Wisemen to the Christ Child that these workers found Mike's father in the countryside of Belgium. And they had work, and they were blessed by his kindness.

Not to disillusion, I really did't put together what it was that I was seeing or experiencing at that time, but through the eyes of a spoiled, youngest of four from Jersey, I did my best. My vision and scope widened much more the following year when I again was blessed to be able to visit with my friend Mike and his large, loving, diverse family. So I felt I was in-part returning home at we drove past the outskirts of Brussels and into the Belgium countryside. It was there that I began to take-in a simplicity in life.

This was magnified to the enth degree when I accompanied Mike, his brothers, and father to Poland. (An historical note - it was only three years earlier that the Solidarność party, under Lech Wałęsa, had overrun communist control and held democratic elections in Poland.) Once there, southeast of Krakow, we made our way to a moment of change for me. One of the Polish workers, whom I had met the previous summer, had invited us to his house. It was small, it was made of brick, and stood only feet from the dirt road that delivered you to it. We arrived at lunch. With the most proud of all expressions worn about his face and body, our host announced that our pork meal was the freshest he could provide - killed that morning - the center of our feast. His son and daughter sang songs, entertained and waited on us. It was our host's humble way to say thank you, and it was profound. After eating, we toured the farm. A few animals, some small crops, and across the street, a pile of bricks. Upon further inspection we found it to be more. A small foundation had been erected with three or so layers of brick atop. "That is my daughter's house." Or it would be upon completion. Brick by brick. Guess there is really no other way to build, but he meant literally "brick by brick." His daughter was about 10 and this was to be her wedding present - a house, a home, built brick by brick in her father's loving hands! Profound? I think so.

So this is my best and first memory of developing  . . . perspective.

And twenty years later it is still all about perspective. What do we see when we look at the world? What is our angle? Everyone has an angle.