On the last day of my nine-week Life Stories classes, I generally ask the participants to share with the group something of what they have written.
Well, another session ended this week and one participant shared how as she has gotten older she has come to appreciate how "surprisingly, breathtakingly, heart-stoppingly" beautiful nature is. She went on to describe the seasons and ended by citing "the riotous blaze of fall, which fades to the serenity and austerity of winter."
Another member of the class read about when her family got its first telephone in the home. The first call she made was to her best friend, and it seemed so magical that initially the two girls couldn't talk; for several seconds, they just giggled.
The third class member shared a poem she had written to her 12-year-old grandson in which she tells him why she loves him more than ice cream.
When the readings were completed, I was overjoyed and as proud of these women as they were of themselves. I felt like getting up and dancing in celebration. These "sharing days," they never disappoint.