Dorothy Nix sat across from me this morning, shuffling index cards in her lap. World War II veteran, journalist, mother, grandmother, and widow. She spoke from memories, reliving each moment—eighty-six years’ worth of moments. She said that now, more than at any other stage in her life, she has time to reflect, that she draws from her well-tested faith, from so many sorrows and joys, to give herself peace and understanding.
Understanding of this world only comes when one has lived long in it. I would rather be wise to the world than famous to it.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment