A Couple of Personal Observations
Observation #1: The sad reality of illiteracy
If I looked long enough, I could find the illiteracy figures for Portugal and Madeira, but I don't have the time now. They are among the highest in Europe, so it is not uncommon to see people at the post office or bank, especially the elderly cashing their pension check, who can't even sign their name. They have to put their fingerprint on the check to endorse it. This is less and less, true, fortunately, but there are still many who can't read.
Yesterday a lady was in my office to have me help her with her tax returns. She and her husband lived many years in the U.S. and worked long enough to get Social Security payments. He died this past February and our consular office has been working to help her get the various benefits she is entitled to. As she signed the one of the forms yesterday, she commented on bank charges and tax liabilities, "I can sign my name, but I don't know how to read. That doesn't mean I'm a fool and lack intelligence, though!"
She asked me to write down when she should come back for the next tax report. I wrote: "Come back in April 2006." She couldn't read what I wrote, but she would show it to her niece, who often comes with her to the office. MJ is right: her problem is not a lack of intelligence, but I can't help but think how different my life would be if I didn't know how to read!
Observation #2: A Sort of Death
I was still working on the computer in the wee hours of this morning when an e-mail from Mom arrived. It had finally happened! After a number of postponements over the past few months, the sale of the family farm had been finalized earlier in the afternoon.
I guess I lived on the farm less than anyone else in our family, since I'm the oldest child. Then, too, we left the U.S. for the mission field in 1972, and our contacts with the old home place have been few, short, and far between. We moved on the farm in 1956, so that's 49 years Mom lived there. Now she has a house that's more modern and better located, closer to my brother and sister.
From the moment Mom decided to sell the farm early this year, it (meaning the role the farm would have in our life now) took a serious turn for the worse. Then Mom bought the new (to her) house and moved. "It" was definitely dead. The life was already gone out of it, so the closing was more like a kind of burial, the earth falling on the coffin, the visible sign of finality.
We live in a world where we are often called upon to bury loved ones; but just because we have to bury them, doesn't mean we forget them. These few lines are my tribute to the farm and to the grace of God and the faithful Christian parents He gave us. In all honesty, the house, as a structure, would not merit the praise of builders; if there are fond memories of the farm to be cherished, it is because Mom and Dad by the grace of God gave a humble farm an air of divine glory.
If you happen to drive by the old place, I guarantee you won't see that glory I'm talking about. You had to be there.
If I looked long enough, I could find the illiteracy figures for Portugal and Madeira, but I don't have the time now. They are among the highest in Europe, so it is not uncommon to see people at the post office or bank, especially the elderly cashing their pension check, who can't even sign their name. They have to put their fingerprint on the check to endorse it. This is less and less, true, fortunately, but there are still many who can't read.
Yesterday a lady was in my office to have me help her with her tax returns. She and her husband lived many years in the U.S. and worked long enough to get Social Security payments. He died this past February and our consular office has been working to help her get the various benefits she is entitled to. As she signed the one of the forms yesterday, she commented on bank charges and tax liabilities, "I can sign my name, but I don't know how to read. That doesn't mean I'm a fool and lack intelligence, though!"
She asked me to write down when she should come back for the next tax report. I wrote: "Come back in April 2006." She couldn't read what I wrote, but she would show it to her niece, who often comes with her to the office. MJ is right: her problem is not a lack of intelligence, but I can't help but think how different my life would be if I didn't know how to read!
Observation #2: A Sort of Death
I was still working on the computer in the wee hours of this morning when an e-mail from Mom arrived. It had finally happened! After a number of postponements over the past few months, the sale of the family farm had been finalized earlier in the afternoon.
I guess I lived on the farm less than anyone else in our family, since I'm the oldest child. Then, too, we left the U.S. for the mission field in 1972, and our contacts with the old home place have been few, short, and far between. We moved on the farm in 1956, so that's 49 years Mom lived there. Now she has a house that's more modern and better located, closer to my brother and sister.
From the moment Mom decided to sell the farm early this year, it (meaning the role the farm would have in our life now) took a serious turn for the worse. Then Mom bought the new (to her) house and moved. "It" was definitely dead. The life was already gone out of it, so the closing was more like a kind of burial, the earth falling on the coffin, the visible sign of finality.
We live in a world where we are often called upon to bury loved ones; but just because we have to bury them, doesn't mean we forget them. These few lines are my tribute to the farm and to the grace of God and the faithful Christian parents He gave us. In all honesty, the house, as a structure, would not merit the praise of builders; if there are fond memories of the farm to be cherished, it is because Mom and Dad by the grace of God gave a humble farm an air of divine glory.
If you happen to drive by the old place, I guarantee you won't see that glory I'm talking about. You had to be there.
posted by EP | 8:33 PM | Permalink
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home