There is power in blood.

By that I mean, there is power in blood ties between people who are family.

I spent a day with my two sisters.  One is seven years older, and one is seventeen months younger.  We have been elastic in our ways of relating; bodies and souls.  Sometimes life has brought us under the same roof and into proximity and sometimes life has found us far distant from each other.  We have gone our ways into and through life.

And, we are home for each other.  Our mother has recently died.  We are finding that home is a moveable tabernacle.  One of us recently grappled with the heart terror of loving a child who literally fell from the sky.  Given a one percent chance of survival, her son is alive.  Today we found a dress for my sister to wear to her son’s miracle wedding.

How did she have the courage to endure?  How will we each find the courage to face all that life has yet to present us?

I believe in the power of the song of the blood.  We are part of a tribe of almost relentlessly positive, foolishly tenacious people.  We curse and we weep and we reach for and we hold one another and somehow we remember who we are and from whence we came.

Eternal is this line.

Eternal is this power.