I have a good friend whom I’ll call Sylvia. She has had, what seems to me, more than her share of suffering and yet she calls herself blessed. It is something I admire and envy.
Sylvia and I met years ago when we were hiking in the Pigeon River area with the Sierra Club. At the top of a wooded hill, we came upon an old iron fire tower that everyone wanted to climb. Everyone except me who kept taking deep breaths as the iron girders vibrated beneath us.
Sylvia appeared undaunted and I already knew that there was a kind of strength in this petite woman that I wanted to understand. As we became friends, I discovered that Sylvia had grown up in a large family without a father.
An early marriage ended in divorce and she lost her only child. Yet, these sorrows had not defeated her; they had deepened her. Nowadays, she’s always learning something and helping someone. Watching her confront the challenges of old age, I glimpse the source of her resilience—a passionate curiosity.
Recently, she asked me, “Isn’t life just the most interesting thing you’ve ever done?”
