“A type of community building has begun alongside the building of a home,” she said. A derelict home after a fire surrounded by murmurs of hoarding is the focal point. Beware; there is oddness in the neighborhood. People turning their backs, watching through tainted windows, but never helping.
Then the restorative team was called and volunteers began to gather around. Still, the tension between old ways and new ways pull around her heart just a bit more, and instead of an open circle of inclusion, more fear and tight restraints.
“I see what can be”, she whispered to him. “I do too,” he said, out of the cold stillness.
She laid out the photos on the table in the early morning sunlight. Carefully cutting them into long strips and rolling them in tight ovals with layers of earth friendly, waterproof glue. She wrote “understanding ” on the paper before she rolled it.
The burned out, falling down, broken-spirited home was being repaired and so was her heart and leading her, by leaps, into the reality she had seen; a reality that seemed too high to climb, like mountains framing a scene only to be seen from afar. But now, in a focused manner, the steps were not so out of reach.
The beads were spun by shimmering silver and gold into angels with semi-precious stone accents. Each one sold, a collectable for another bead in the rosary of connection. No more isolation, no more disconnect. People now holding each other accountable, supporting the new ways of collaboration, cooperation and restoration.