Yesterday, I posted a journal reflection from 1997. This is my reflection this morning, June 5, 2020:
I CAN’T DIE FROM COVID 19. THERE ARE TOO MANY BOOKS YET TO READ.
There was a woman at Good Shepherd Nursing Home. I always passed her room when I was going down the halls to see (my friend) Olie. She lay on her bed, usually on her side, reading. I could see the books but not the titles. I can imagine that she couldn’t always sit to read because, like me, her ass end would get numb and the circulation to her legs would get pinched off. So she’d stretch out on her bed and read, read, read. The learning continues.
I don’t know if she is still in her body. Olie is gone out of her’s so I have no reason to go there anymore. But she comes to mind this morning and I thank God that her eyes continued to work so long. I pray that there is a library in heaven so that when I go there I will visit her and we can talk about all the books we have read while on the earth.
I am trying to get used to the idea that I may one day be living in a monarchy. What does one do? I am 74 years old. My world is getting smaller each day. That is, my world of influence.
What does one do when children are suffering? Would hopping on a plane and going to the boxes that hold them, banging on the doors, parking on the concrete and crying “help” do anything?
Would such a gesture mean anything in a monarchy? I don’t know. So far I have not had to live in one. I didn’t think so, anyway.
I have studied history. I have studied religion and philosophy. Some of my most profound teachers have lived under monarchical systems who prayed and wrote and served the poor. Some who lived in democratic sytems did the same. Some were activists, known by many or by a few. But all lived their lives authentically, no matter the context in which they lived. They were free, even in shackles or behind bars.
God’s ways are so far above mine that I am breathless. I have to stop in my track to rest. I look. I listen…what is to be my response? I pray for these who act, even if their actions seem to lead nowhere. They inspire me. They deepen my belief in a God Who may not really care about systems, but about loving. Just loving.
I don’t know. I care, I love my neighbor in my little corner of the world. This I can do.
There are the all’s well days
And the days when all is not
There are the sky’s the limit days
And the days when I can’t see beyond my own eyelids
There are the take a deep sweet breath days
And the days when my door is shut
There are the open to love days
And the days when love an illusive dream
Spring has finally descended upon Minnesota. I think it just may be here to stay.
For two days now I have been able to walk the driveway without my boots on.
Bernie and I have eaten two suppers in our screened porch.
Twice I did my daily stretching and quiet time took on the deck with my face to the sun.
The snowy spots will likely be gone by the end of the day and the next moisture coming from the sky will be rain.
Thunder, please, Mother. It wakes up the green.
I hate those times when I am unable to write.
This is true right now in my blog world
as well as in that other world where I create stories.
I think that right now it is because I feel so much in limbo,
in a space where events swirl around me
and I can’t make heads or tails out of them.
So many unknowns.
Based on the book I just finished reading for my spirituality book club,
I am falling into grace.
This is a pretty good place to be.
To take each moment as it is when I am in it,
without attaching all sorts of stories and explanations.
That is a sign of a really evolved person.
Alas, not much fun, though.
This is a pendulum swing.
I know that from experience.
Butterflies in my stomach.
Miracles happen in miniscule increments of time and space.
Like a tire rolling across the pavement, we measure by miles
but truth says that
Each 1 degree turn of the wheel is a move forward.
We don’t give this miracle word
We prefer to have miracles served in miles.
We want see a change in the scenery.
Once in a while, a tire hits black ice and skids us forward
Like a sled blades on an icy slope
Those miracles are worth shouting about.
The others, well, they don’t deserve a thought.
Jesus told me to not be afraid.
And he told me to live in peace.
How hard this is to hang onto as the world is full of fear,
rightfully so, and violence.
But Jesus also told me that the kingdom he knows is not the kingdom of this world
and asked me to open my eyes and see this other kingdom.
It is here, now, he said, it is not just in the future
but it is now and lasts forever.
Just open your eyes.
Just open your eyes.
Oh, my – it is dark.
See with the eyes of your heart, he says.