War. The word can represent multiple struggles among humankind. It can be as minor as a disagreement between siblings and as horrific and debilitating as a worldwide battle with boots on the ground.
Regardless of the extent, war – any war – is never a good thing.
And the weapons. I am not referring to high-powered rifles or F15 Eagles or massive tanks. No, my friend. I am referring to other weapons: no visits, no phone calls, the silent treatment, no holiday get-togethers, no more lunch dates. These weapons we use against each other cause pain, and chances are we have all armed ourselves and marched into battle, a battle that can prove to be devastating.
I would like to share a yarn with you concerning two brothers. Due to a political disagreement, both men parted with red faces and anger. In no time, the weapons were drawn. No fishing trips. No camping adventures. They refused to call and make amends. Neither joined their family for a holiday meal. They avoided each other at all costs.
Their beloved grandmother passed away and they managed to avoid each other during the funeral, but things were a bit different when they attended the celebration of life luncheon. Their grandmother was an avid crochet perfectionist, and she had crocheted each of the brothers belts made with stiff black yarn. The belts were very nice, complete with silver buckles.
Both of the brothers had chosen to wear these belts in her honor, and though they had not noticed their identical belts at the church, they both spotted the belts while at the buffet.
The older of the two sat down with several cousins he hadn’t seen in years. The other brother had no choice but to pass by the table where his brother sat, and as he scooched by the back of a chair, his foot caught the chair leg and he fell to the floor. His food and his drink flew everywhere.
He raised to his knees, and with his head down, grabbed onto a hand that was offered to him.
He got to his feet, only to be toe to toe with his brother. There were no words between them; only a strong hug and many pats on the back. When they pulled away, the younger brother struggled for something to say. With tears in his eyes, he pointed at his brother’s belt and then at his own. They both began to laugh and once again launched into a hug.
While catching up a while later, they both agreed that their grandmother must have had a divine hand in their reconciliation. The belts were a strong reminder of their bond and on that day, they laid their weapons down.
In a perfect existence, we would have no need for weapons. Please be kind to yourself and each other. Until next time, much love.
Belinda Wilcox Hersey lives in Caribou with her husband, Kent. You may email her at belindahersy@gmail.com.
