noble spirit | The Writings of A. K. Frailey

It amazes me that we humans ever understand each other given our robust ability to mess with syntax, translations, and meaning.

Some years back, the kids and I visited my dad in Kansas. My youngest, only about five at the time, was very impressed by something my dad shared with her. I was clueless.

After we returned home and I was making bread in the kitchen, my little one climbed up on a stool, watched me for several minutes, inflating my ego no small sum. Me thinking that my exceptional ability to knead dough actually impressed her developing mind.

She looked at me and inquired, in that adorable way small children do, with big searching eyes, “We’re related to pastry-people, aren’t we, Mom?”

I stopped kneading. Flummoxed. My eyebrows must have spoken for me.

Her voice rose with her determined desire to be understood. “You know, Pastry People. Granddad said we’re related to PASTRY PEOPLE!”

Thank the Lord of Heaven that daughter number four wandered through the kitchen at that appointed moment in history. I stalled her with a well-aimed, albeit desperate attempt to clarify our ancestry. “Uh, do you know anything about…”

She stared at me, furrowed her brows, pursed her lips, then smiled as light dawned. “Oh, yes, Granddad did say something about us being related to the Danish.”

Danish. Pasty-people. Get it?

I forgive you if you’re slow on the uptake. It took me a moment.

I don’t know if my youngest has yet forgiven me for merely being related to some of the greatest sea-faring humans in history, Hans Christian Anderson, and kings and castles rather than pastry-people. Though the discoverers of butter cookies are relatable!

When I took my ancestry test last March and got the results in May, I discovered that Dad was pretty much on the mark. 61% Irish, 26% English and northwestern European, 6% Scottish, 4% Welsh, 3% Swedish, I’m a mixed lot to be sure.

At an Irish pub with friends—back in my Chicago days—an Irish gentleman discussed ancestry with me and, when I shared my mixed heritage, his eyes rounded in something akin to horror. “You’re made up of people who hate each other, Love.” Add the fact that going generations back, we have mixed religious affiliations as well—heck, it is surprising love survived long enough to grow new lives. To say nothing of generations of lives.

It seems that everyone wants to be different these days. The irony is that we are different. Go back far enough, we all travel through the highways and byways of DNA history. And no one journeys unscathed. That’s what makes us the same. What unites us and makes us strong.

Nobility of character, depth of soul, worthiness as fellow human beings reflect both our shared human-kind but also the choices we make as individuals, including the stories we tell our kids and what’s put on the supper table.

So, though my daughter has to accept her nature as non-pastry-people, she does share our heritage as a chosen race—beings that our Creator willed into life. On a good day, we make bread and conversation, nourishing bodies and souls to journey on.

Books by A. K. Frailey

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend Novels

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter https://amzn.to/3iGqGlQ

OldEarth Georgios Encounter https://amzn.to/3v7w8oI

OldEarth Melchior Encounter (In Production)

Science Fiction Novels

Last of Her Kind http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Short Stories

It Might Have Been—And Other Short Stories https://amzn.to/2XXdDDz

Encounter Science Fiction Short Stories & Novella https://amzn.to/3dq6q5l

Inspirational Non-Fiction

My Road Goes Ever On—Spiritual Being, Human Journey https://amzn.to/2KvF3Ll

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings https://amzn.to/3rtAy6S

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Photo https://pixabay.com/photos/gravel-road-lady-walking-road-1031726/

I went to election judge training yesterday, taught math, English, history, helped with online classes, made dinner for the kids, took a walk with a neighbor down the road, and chatted with my daughter on the phone.

This chilly September morning, as I enjoyed a hot cup of coffee, I wondered what this day would bring to me and what I would bring to it. One of the first things that caught my attention was a quote used in my daughter’s textbook:

“United we stand, divided we fall. Let us not split into factions which must destroy that union upon which our existence hangs.” ~Patrick Henry

This textbook was copyrighted well before the COVID pandemic, the mask wars, the deepening tensions between Republicans and Democrats, worldwide anxieties covering everything from crumbling icebergs to riots in our cities. Yet Patrick Henry’s quote spoke as clearly now as when it was originally written over two hundred years ago.

At the moment, cicadas resonate across the yard, frogs, birds, and bees go about their end-of-summer business. The maple leaves are still mostly green, but my porch flowers are fading fast. I harvested the last of the tomatoes and peppers, and I just tossed my heaviest blanket on the bed for the coming night temps are slated to dip into the 40s. I am not ready for frost. But it will come nonetheless.

The inevitability of change means that even when we don’t see something, it does not cease to exist. The mystery of love and hate hidden in hearts alters lives far into the future. On personal, family, and societal levels, what we do today changes tomorrow, for better or for worse.

At election time, it is an army of faithful volunteers who buttress the integrity of our elections. It only takes a few malcontents to strike at our confidence and damage our security.

Patrick’s words strike a chord within each of us. Either we maintain our personal integrity or lose the base upon which we all stand. The devastation of disunity affects everyone.

I know that it will be cold tonight, but my heart wants to keep the doors and windows open a little longer. I’ll suffer the price of my choice until I admit that I am not an amphibian. The price of unity means that we have to give up pursuing unreasonable ends. We have to seek reconciliation, practice compassion, and observe heroic humility. We cannot dismantle the past, but we can build a future.

The fathers and mothers who offered their wit and wisdom to found a nation under God did so without getting everything they wanted. They put just laws and merciful order—the embodiment of sacrificial love even to the point of dying for others—as the solid foundation upon which the next generation stands. Humility and humanity do more than sound alike, they work alike, altering our complex multi-faceted vision into a panorama view that ennobles the whole world.

Winter will come. Human institutions crumble. Yet, the grace of our existence speaks to communion. Winter does not deal death and destruction to those who build strong homes on solid foundations. Not all homes look the same. Not everyone faces winter the same way. In trial, opportunities arise. In winter, we take stock of our inner selves, our families, communities, nations, and world, and seeds for spring are gathered.

Tomorrow brings a host of unknowns, but even as night closes in, I can choose to stand with the best of humanity—unique in our unity.