In the Middle

In the Middle

Do you suppose there is a hush in heaven with all the chaos here below? We are some distance from each other and the end. We are somewhere in the middle, and hope is a faithful companion for the miles ahead. We can each decide how to view this season – are we in the middle of a crisis or of an inevitable miracle? Per Emily Dickinson, “Hope is a thing with feathers that perches in the soul…” If we stop reeling, pause and listen, the birds are still chirping, our hearts are still beating, and the sun did rise again today.

We’ve been distracted for way too long, and now whether six feet below or apart, we are acutely aware of each other. I have reached out to friends I haven’t called in years. I have been surprised by a caring text from someone I blocked. How did I become that person floating by, head in my smart-phone, oblivious as a cloud? Now I wonder as I scroll through my contact list and pause at each name, was I a storm and can I make things right, or was I a peaceful shade and can I be more?

Stay socially-distanced but connected.

At our first virtual Sunday service at TCOTW, our Pastor Tim Clark, said, “Fear is a bigger virus than COVID-19.” Those words fortified me against the dread that could infect and drag me into the global paranoia about the Coronavirus. So, I confess, I’ve boldly hosted a couple of Friday-night-Afrocentric jam sessions in my house complete with almond enjoy and kamikaze cocktails, tequila shots, and endless small chops for few fully-vetted friends. (Don’t get ugly and judge. And yes, I adhered to the guidelines on gatherings) 

Still, I was seeking a word to keep me hopeful. Then the lovely Kristina from my Sidekick Team shared Joel Osteen’s “In the Middle of Miracle” message. I’ve listened to it on repeat and just had to pass it on. The Israelites experienced God’s unusual miracle as they walked through the middle of the Red Sea and escaped a formidable enemy. Even if you are not Christian, if you are alive and breathing today, listen, and be reminded that while we are in the middle of this challenging season, we are also in the middle of a miracle. 

Become an answer to prayer as a good neighbor to everyone and choose kindness. A Native American* proverb says, “No tree has branches so foolish as to fight among themselves.”  We will be marked by how we choose to engage humanity (and maybe literally, going by the incessant talk of mandatory vaccines and chipping) There’s work to do, love to share, promises to keep, and many miles still ahead. Remain thankful to our heroes in scrubs, camouflage, trucks, trains, hosting virtual classes, at check-out counters, advocates for inclusion and the forgotten, first-responders, caregivers, anyone spreading joy, and leading the way. This situation has humbled us, reminded everyone what matters, and turned us towards the invisible God to help battle this unseen enemy.

Guard your mind against fear, practice stillness. Pray. The human body is God’s organic technology, designed to heal when afflicted. All things still work together for our good. Seek the supernatural grace of God in these changing times and stay connected to Source. We are in the middle of the season’s bestselling narrative titled “Coronavirus,” but seasons come and go. Our collective human story is not over, and the angelic chorus has not abated for a nanosecond. Sometimes, miracles happen along the way when we reject despair and instead share hope through music, poems, laughter, resources, lessons, home-cooked meals, or acts of kindness.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.                                                                                                          Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” (1923)

We are in the middle of an unfolding miracle, a reset, and a great awakening. I pray that we will come through victorious, not broken, or empty-handed. As we journey to the other side, we will be forever changed for the better. 

Ama.

 

References & Notes:

*Some Native Americans self-identify as “Indians” or “American Indians.”

Image Credits: Pixabay

The Poems of Emily Dickinson Edited by R. W. Franklin (Harvard University Press, 1999)

Robert Frost: Collected Poems, Prose, & Plays (Library of America, 1995)

Waiters, Seasons and Unexpected Tranquility

Image Credit: Pixabay

Image Credit: Pixabay

Here’s a thought, dreaming takes no effort.
Anyone can plop their heads on a pillow at night and dream without a license. No-one should begrudge your precious bucket-list and if people close to you do, lose them as friends. When we are awake and basking in the sun, (assuming you live in California) or lost on a dirt road, we wait. We wait for Fridays to feel giddy about our week, we wait for payday, we wait while a seed grows for nine months then birth a child who never outgrows our care.

For love, we wait for prince charming, I did. I got one with a lopsided smile that arrests my heart.
Boys wait too. Wondering, will I find the one? Will she open up to me, curl up to me in her sleep? Will she love me the same when I’m down?
We anticipate seasons (except tax season) and the magic we project on each one. In and out of season, we can seek happiness, meaning and find ways to serve. Most can’t wait to retire, but fear death. Sometimes we don’t even know what we are holding out for. We just know there’s “something more…”

The worst kind is waiting to be happy. Waiters serve.

I have realized that the real out-of-body-experience isn’t meeting a celebrity, or getting that sale or recognition but the tangible, wild, pulsating joy of volunteering and giving of myself. It is truly more satisfying to give than to receive. I’m grateful to TCOTW for letting me give.

What determines our quality of life? Per capita income? Even in developing countries, lives are drastically changed when people stop waiting to be served and get busy with life.
Immortality is wired in our hearts. Forever is a really long time to spend regretting not making a mark. We are deeply terrified of being forgotten. So with peace we’ll serve. On the way to our dreams, we’ll serve. Happy is always lurking at the corner of our lips.

If all we do is dream, like those fleeting visions…we will be forgotten.

 

Image Credit: Pixabay

Image Credit: Pixabay

Unexpected Tranquility by Wendell Berry

I come into the peace of wild things,
who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief
I come to the presence of still water
And I feel above me the day – blind stars waiting their light.
For a time I rest in the grace of the world
and am free.
 

PS: I am becoming a big fan of Wendell Berry.  He is 80 years…still waiting and serving.

In My World – In Awe of Seasons

In my world

In awe of seasons – golden tree leaves on my street.

In My World  (A Modified Quatern)

by Ama Danesi

In my world, there are no doors.
I’m the chime, pressed through crowned walls,
swinging by chandeliers and gates
that twirl and clang with glee.

I don’t care about my color, much less yours.
In my world,  the heart matters.
Hope yours leaps to recognize mine when
it nods to say, you’re here and I see you.

In dread of snowflakes, in awe of golden leaves,
who’s tracking my leftover thanks?
In my world, there is no end
only beginnings that swallow seasons.

Ding….Tintinnabulation!*
I just gulped a whole year –
Happy Birthday to me.
In my world, it’s seasoned with salt.

 

*Edgar Allan Poe