SAY YOU WAKE UP HAPPY, inwardly fizzing. Almost effervescent with quirky ideas . . .
BUT someone depends on you. What to do?
“Spend the afternoon,” author Annie Dillard says. “You can’t take it with you.”
In other words: Despite life’s erratic side winds, seek out (or create) mini oases — no matter how fleeting. Once there, bend a knee to the Creator.
Or, summon curiosity, directed by love. You could explore that languishing stack of books. Make something. Unfold a lawn chair and daydream.
“Don’t you know God enjoys giving rest to those he loves?” (Ps. 127, The Message).
STILL, can there really be daily, guilt-free reprieves?
Dreamer and I recently spent half a day in the Emergency Room, his upper body in spasms — at times, well over 300 per hour. New diagnosis: Myoclonic Jerking.
So far, no solutions.
So, there’s that.
AND YET . . . today I surge out of bed, pumped.
Dreamer says, “Go for it!”
Then he returns to bed, muscles seizing.
I pray for him, open windows, rearrange his pillows, refill the fountain. Then pray again.
No visible change. Faced with physical urgency, maybe I should stay by his side.
But no. If he needs help, he’ll ask.
WHY IS IT SO HARD sometimes to receive a blessing, tenderly blow a kiss, then ease a door closed?
Mercifully, with a few vigorous stretches, worry ebbs. Along with the need to feel needed.
Eased, energized, I tamp begonias into flowerbeds. Then a pause, to survey my container plantings.
SOMETIMES we wake up with ideas that aren’t ours. I’d forgotten, but first thing this morning I imagined my lavender topiary bedecked with dangly earrings. The notion felt wonderfully playful. Then . . . too frivolous.
BUT WAIT, when Dreamer wakes from his nap and sees it, he might enjoy my goofy delight. Shared laughter can neutralize dread.
I’ll do it!
Oops. Those earrings were tossed during the household mold purge.
NOW WHAT?
In The Geography of Memory, poet and playwright Jeanne Murray Walker quotes her priest. “Life is SHORT, and we do not have much time to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us. So be swift to love, make haste to be kind, live without fear.”
A shiver sharpens my awareness . . . an echoing, boundless chuckle, the sense of an unseen hand cupping my elbow. Then a wise, whimsical voice: “You could plant cocktail umbrellas among the boughs.” Oh, racing heart, too big for a rib cage . . . I feel buoyant, sensing God’s joyous, fun-loving benevolence.
And this: “Child, all your times are in my hands: your hearts, your hopes, your hurts.”
Someone once said the divine moment is the present moment. We can move toward what beckons, no matter how unlikely: take the topiary — dead, but still shapely — brittle arms upstretched.
What will they hold?
FRIENDS, an oasis can save your life.
Adapting on the fly — could this be an answer?
You might also enjoy Oases: Between Noels, Part II
Packing Light: 9 Ways to Reclaim Joy
Bubbles Photo by Alex Alvarez on Unsplash
Dead topiary with cocktail umbrellas and tiny light bulbs, L.K.
Please Chime In...