From the window on the half-landing at the
turn of the stairs, I look down in the path below and note two blackbirds, side
by side, both facing the edging stone that rises to the lawn, their heads
bowing and bobbing.
It put me in mind of the fathers and sons I
had seen, stood side by side before the Western Wall in Jerusalem, dressed in
black. Fathers teaching their sons in prayer. Sons responding to their father’s
invitation, modelling their own lives after their pattern. Intimate moments.
Holy moments to see, not as a voyeur but as a witness.
And so I pause on the half-landing to pray for
the peace of Jerusalem, to give thanks for my own daughter and sons, to reflect
on what I model for them, and to bless the birds.
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