A broken tree limb,
jutting out into the vastness
of the sky; empty, set apart
amidst the leafy greenness
all around; yet she hangs on,
a rugged beauty all her own;
endurance, courage, grit.
***
Another limb, this from my family tree;
Roger was his name, our uncle,
though we cousins never deigned to dignify
his uncle-ness; he was always simply Roger,
in all his simple-ness, sitting with his Bible
open in his hands, most times upside-down,
muttering his prayers in a gibberish
that surely made the angels smile.
But, oh, we fiendish cousins laughed
and mocked him, feebled
as he was with Down Syndrome;
we’d poke and sometimes pinch his arm,
diminish him in any way we could,
then run from Grandma’s wrath;
but Roger beamed on us an almost constant smile,
a smile that hangs still in my mind,
a gift from Uncle Roger’s simple joy,
his gentle benediction; courage, grit,
endurance; a beauty all its own.
from the slow lane 
This poem has a beauty all its own, like the poet: endurance, courage, grit. Perhaps it’s easier to see the beauty of Simple Uncle Roger in light of our own upside-down-nesses.
This poem is a needed gift for me this morning. A couple of hours ago, I took my 79-year-old widower neighbor out for breakfast at the local American Legion Hall. Between bites of omelet, he matter-of-factly said this to me: “You know, for years and years, most of us in the court were afraid of you. We said to ourselves, ‘Don’t ever cross her.'” I was stunned. I had no idea that my own upside-down-ness — my anger at life, at my depression, at my sexual confusion — was so visible.
We never know how others see us — or the ways we inadvertently diminish others.
This poem is humbling.
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Uncle Roger’s life itself is humbling! Interestingly, I began this poem with no thought of Uncle Roger in my mind. The tree limb seemed so beautiful to me in its brokenness, and I began to think of other broken things and broken people Suddenly, there he was! And I was humbled to remember him, ashamed of how I and my cousins had taunted him.
Grateful that those in your court have seen your beauty, and how lovely of your friend to tell you this!
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I remember at Third Church in Holland that after confirmation the confirmands were “examined” by one or another of the elders. We asked them very basic questions, but the knowledge that there would be a “final” helped keep their attention through the year. It was decided that a girl with Downs Syndrome should also be confirmed with those of her age, although she couldn’t understand what had been taught during the year. Her “exam” consisted of one question. Do you love Jesus? Guess wha?” She passed and we rejoiced.
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Beautiful memory!
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