Many people ask how I can share such personal experiences
with a majority of people whom I have never met. More often I am asked how
I find something to write about each
week. That last question seems strange
because I have volumes within me that I have never shared. Maybe someday I
will. Then again I might not. Buddy and I have been married 35 years and there are still
things about me that my sweetheart does not know. No deep dark secrets or unconfessed sin. Just little tidbits of
nostalgia or remembrances that would probably mean nothing much to him or
anybody else. Inside my body is a mental and spiritual sanctuary where I relate
to times past or ponder things present and future. Some might call this our inner selves or our consciousness.
Whichever it is, I know mine is mine alone, the sum total of all my life
experiences encapsulated in solitude. I retreat there in quiet times. It is
also where God and I meet, though I often find myself more talkative than He
is. Ironic in a way. Nobody has even accused me of being
“gabby.” I can teach for hours, but usually engage in only short conversations.
Seldom am I on the phone more than a few minutes. If the line is continually
busy, you can be sure it is Buddy. He could make Chatty Cathy’s cell phone bill
look miniscule in comparison. My mother, who was a bantam hen not to be messed with, had a six-word phrase that cut to the chase
when confronted with long-windedness: “Just give me the bottom line.” Ditto, Mama. Socrates
and Plato were too verbose and way
beyond my league. I am simply an observer of life and currently a contemporary
scribe. Having terminal illness makes it more compelling for me to say
succinctly what I might have said later or perhaps never. I believe that there is a proper time for every kind of
communication. A time to smile and a
time to hug. A time to speak and a time
to listen. A time to hold hands and a
time to cry. And a time to write. The bottom line is this: To the extent that we invite others into our lives, we live
richer and fuller lives ourselves.
***************************
Nancy
White Kelly
