it will be fine.
but will it?
i used to hate that expression. it will be fine- is said often here and about anything- with no reason or explanation as to why it would be fine or how someone knows it will be fine. but i somehow now get it. it sort of sums up life. it will be fine- meaning at some point in the future- no one ever knows how long- and it will because something always works out eventually- and fine because it's not going to be great necessarily, or horrid- but some tepid place in the middle- fine. it can describe lots of things.
for example.
the situation with rose.
so again i took her to kampala to see her birth mom, and the crazy-often-drunk-"translator"-and-local- chairperson-for-their-squatting-community, and the lawyer. i even brought my own translator who traveled with us to karamoja and knows the situation and her extended family. after about an hour wait- again- like last week- i called the translator who said "tomorrow. today will not work out". of course. so here we are again- waiting.
"it will be fine".
and that is really how i feel. i don't know how, and i don't know when, and it's very non-western of me, but i think, eventually, in some matter of speaking, it will be fine.
fine can look like lots of things. fine can be found in our days- our every day mundane days. fine is in the beauty of putting the kids to bed and lingering longer to smell their head and rub their little back. fine is found in having an hour in the house alone to read and drink coffee on a friday afternoon. fine is connecting with a new friend or hearing from your sister or looking forward to dinner tonight from gathered farmers market products. fine is going on about life in all it's shades of gray and blue and green.
i recently found the card i gave to mike on his last birthday, a print by Chang Dai-chien.
i chose it because it was messy and the blue is leaking and smeared, but there are pieces of clarity scattered here and there and it's beautiful in all it's layers. there are parts that are dark blue like the night sky and green parts like the ocean and mountains- it reminds me of the layers of life and love, the seasons and the flavors and the confusion and the passion.
sometimes we can feel the passion. sometimes all we can smell is the goodness of life. and other times and perhaps always, it is fine.
it will be fine.
kijja kubeera bulungi.
but will it?
i used to hate that expression. it will be fine- is said often here and about anything- with no reason or explanation as to why it would be fine or how someone knows it will be fine. but i somehow now get it. it sort of sums up life. it will be fine- meaning at some point in the future- no one ever knows how long- and it will because something always works out eventually- and fine because it's not going to be great necessarily, or horrid- but some tepid place in the middle- fine. it can describe lots of things.
for example.
the situation with rose.
so again i took her to kampala to see her birth mom, and the crazy-often-drunk-"translator"-and-local- chairperson-for-their-squatting-community, and the lawyer. i even brought my own translator who traveled with us to karamoja and knows the situation and her extended family. after about an hour wait- again- like last week- i called the translator who said "tomorrow. today will not work out". of course. so here we are again- waiting.
"it will be fine".
and that is really how i feel. i don't know how, and i don't know when, and it's very non-western of me, but i think, eventually, in some matter of speaking, it will be fine.
fine can look like lots of things. fine can be found in our days- our every day mundane days. fine is in the beauty of putting the kids to bed and lingering longer to smell their head and rub their little back. fine is found in having an hour in the house alone to read and drink coffee on a friday afternoon. fine is connecting with a new friend or hearing from your sister or looking forward to dinner tonight from gathered farmers market products. fine is going on about life in all it's shades of gray and blue and green.
i recently found the card i gave to mike on his last birthday, a print by Chang Dai-chien.
i chose it because it was messy and the blue is leaking and smeared, but there are pieces of clarity scattered here and there and it's beautiful in all it's layers. there are parts that are dark blue like the night sky and green parts like the ocean and mountains- it reminds me of the layers of life and love, the seasons and the flavors and the confusion and the passion.
sometimes we can feel the passion. sometimes all we can smell is the goodness of life. and other times and perhaps always, it is fine.
it will be fine.
kijja kubeera bulungi.
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