Random Reflections from My Walk of Life

I repel technology.  It's mutual, though. I think it's great and neat and helpful, sure, but I generally prefer thinking for myself.  Often that's a dangerous endeavor, one that usually leads to nothing except more and more thinking (about things like the power of God made manifest in a thunderstorm), but that can also lead to grand adventures (like getting lost and turning up for ice cream in Decatur, Indiana).  

I'm currently searching (with gritted teeth) for a reliable yet inexpensive car as a step towards freedom.  But really, I wish that owning a car wasn't necessary for my independence.  Not that I think there's anything wrong with cars or owning them--my boyfriend loves them, and I think that's great--but I just don't like relying on cars.  I wish I could live in a place where I could walk anywhere I needed to go, but not in a crowded, smelly city.  Somewhere I could appreciate creation in all its glory.  I mean, I don't live life in the fast lane--or the slow lane or even on the bike path.  I'm blazing my own trail in the woods, walking slowly, breathing deeply, taking life for all its worth in its most obscure moments--the light of the sun shining through green branches. . .to me it's the little things that make life beautiful and so worth living.

.     .     .

It was a dozen drops of hail that caught my attention, 
Then a stillness in bated breath

Until the next flash of light and its echoing boom.

The rain began its drip at first like pockets emptying of pennies,

Then picked up speed and sound and fell like rivers into canyons.

A loud crack and I refused to let him go.

They started to chatter about the latest gadget, the newest technology,

What this and that can do,

But all was white noise next to the pouring rain.

I moved to the chair by the open window and caught the breeze as it blew in--

Gusts from all directions sweeping treetops across the sky,
Collecting clouds in dustpans.

The stick in the front yard--the pitiful replacement for the dear pin oak struck by lightning twice--

Stretches and bends with the wind, powerless in the force. 

The chatter about apps is lost in the storm outside my window,

Lost in the depths of me.

The rain pools in puddles like ripples in the soul,

Waves tossing and tides pulling the heart

Until I am drowning in awe and wonder.

What Hand painted this scene, 

Poked holes in the sky and rained down tears of sorrow and of mercy

On the world? 

The world outside alights in splendor and I am struck.

I want nothing of tablets or computers or cars--right now I am alive.

A Happy Ending

Standing on the edge of the water under the stars in front of the lake house for the last time, I am transported.  Time in its memorial waves collide and I am at once in the moment and in the past nights sitting on or by this water under these stars.  I hear as if an echo the laughter, the singing, the silence, my wishes on the stars that have fallen, my dreams and prayers to the One who hung the stars in place.

"Trust in Me," I hear the breath of Beauty on the breeze whisper in my ear, "and I will grant you the desires of your heart." 

Twenty five years of learning how to trust collide in this one moment when he puts his arms around me, presses his lips to my ear, wipes away my tears with his hands.  All I ever wanted was to share this beauty with a man who cared, and here, in the last possible moment--in God's perfect timing--I am.

The bitterness of goodbye mixes with the sweetness of a dream come true.  I hold the moment in my heart, my thanks inexpressible except in the mystery of the Eucharist, the thanksgiving.  I know that in the morning I must celebrate the Mass and give this gift back to God wrapped in gratitude.  And my heart aches with the knowledge that in the morning, this will all be over.

To close my eyes, to sleep, to wake and find it as all that and no more than it is--a dream.

I nearly choke on my tears, but he holds me closer and I look at this man beside me.  When I wake, this moment with the stars and the water in the place where my old soul found peace for so many summers will fade away, but this man will not.  My soul sighs and bitter sorrow becomes sweet joy.

My ending for this place, for this chapter of my life, is happy and more perfect than I could have ever imagined, but exactly as He planned all along:  "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

Fairy Dust

My mom arrived back at the cottage from the store and hastily set down her shopping bags on the table.  She spoke quietly to me: "Jack, come with me.  You have to see this; it's beautiful."  Feeling like a little girl in on a great secret, I followed my mom into the hushed darkness of the night.  

I was reminded of how my mom used to say goodnight to me when I was very young.  She'd tuck me in snugly and in the glow of the nightlight, she'd sprinkle fairy dust over me.  Really she just waved her hands over me and made whooshing sounds, but she let me pick the color of the fairy dust, and I imagined it falling all over me and covering me with sweet dreams.  

Now I was a teenager and my mom's magic had disappeared--or maybe I'd simply stopped believing. But that night she woke that little girl inside of me and I couldn't help feeling like part of a great adventure as we drove down the lake road.  

She stopped the minivan on the old country road across from a field and switched off the lights.  "Uh, this is dangerous," I pointed out, the constant kill-joy.  "Someone will hit us!"

"Shh," she said. "Look over there."  She pointed to the field and I looked.

It was a breathtaking vision of thousands of lights glittering in the still blackness.  Fireflies dancing in the dark, twinkling little stars, sparkling fairies sprinkling their dust and singing a lullaby to the nonbeliever in me.

I believe in the magic of mothers.  Not spell-binding, wand-waving magic, but in their life-giving nature, they carry and pass on a certain kind of light that inspires awe in Beauty, hope in suffering, and love that endures forever.  They make that ultimate sacrifice and lay down their lives for their children--no greater love is there than this.

It will never be enough but it seems that all I can do is say, Thanks, Mom.  You're the reason I started adding sprinkles to my coffee because, as you always say, "Sprinkles make everything better."  I guess it was my way of taking your words and sprinkling them like fairy dust in my life so that I could find beauty in the ordinary and learn how to praise in the storms.  I love you one million Swedish fish.

grace.

The other day I fell asleep to the sounds of a raging thunderstorm and awoke the next morning to a blue sky full of glorious sunshine.  It was as if God injected my soul with hope.  In this life there will be rain, thunder and lightning, but there will also be sunshine.

Bring on the sunshine.