Oh, dear Author of All,
here is my page.
These spontaneous words of prayer anchor me. I sync them with each inhale and exhale as Dreamer and I drive into town. We’re headed for my beloved mentor’s home. She’s 95. For nearly 40 years she has guided me in the ever-compelling, never-mastered art of reading aloud. Shared love of the craft increases our love for words and for each other.
Today will be golden. I’ve written a tandem script for an ongoing audio program that Dreamer and I produce. She’ll give voice to Sonnet 73, by Shakespeare, in response to Sonnet 18, read by yours truly.
I’m so jazzed!
We unload recording equipment, then ring the bell. Oh dear. Turns out she’s leaving for an appointment: a schedule snafu.
We book a new date, then climb into our car — which won’t start. Despite countless attempts. She waves goodbye as we pull out the manual. Next, we try the gear shift override. Multiple times.
Prayer seemingly budges nothing, including the locked steering wheel.
Happy are those with cellphones and insurance. Alas, our towing option is invalid. More calls. Various chains of command. The sky darkens. Flurries commence. Seeking the helpful, we feel less and less hopeful.
Another hour passes. Snow falls harder, and cold seeps through the car and our clothing. We feel powerless.
Finally, a tow truck is promised—sometime within the next hour. We’re hungry. Frustrated. Chilled. A long way from home.
We need, ahem, certain facilities. Swallowing pride, I knock on a neighbor’s door, brush snow from my shoulders. Considering the latest pandemic protocols, will anyone answer? Who opens the door to a stranger these days?
The homeowner not only ushers us in, she offers both bathrooms. Then bottles of water. Or would we prefer soda? Coffee or tea?
“Please,” she says, “Sit. Wait inside where it’s warm. Oh dear, you’re shivering. Blanket?”
She even proposes various snacks.
I recall my earlier prayer, that God would author my day. Taken in, sheltered, cushioned and cared for, I am embarrassed by her spontaneous kindness. She is both stable and manger, an opened door amid the storm.
Today’s fleeting brush with Eternity.
In the fourth century, St. Jerome wrote, “Blessed are they who possess Bethlehem in their hearts and in whose hearts, Christ is born daily.”
Here’s to welcomes—those we give and those we receive—and to room being made, again and again, within the unexpected wayside inns of our common hours.
Emmanuel, you come. You beckon. You shelter us with nourishing care. Oh dear God, thank you. May we do likewise, amen.
Epilogue: The tow truck guy knew a trick. Under his capable hands the engine kicked over. Having parked on a slope, I’d cranked the front wheels toward the curb. More strength on my part would have loosed the steering, allowing ignition.
But we would have missed meeting a neighborhood saint.
Dear friends, in whatever ways you feel stalled or stranded this season, we wish you kindly strangers, revels and reverence, mercies and mirth and healing hope.
Image by Wolfgang Krzemien from Pixabay
Thank you Laurie! Your words and heart bring endless healing hope. Merry Christmas!
Roberta, what beautiful words to read today. Thank you. And Merry Christmas to you and your dear ones!
Completely love your words, “She is both stable and manger, an opened door amid the storm.” A happy ending and an encouragement to “carry Bethlehem in our hearts.” Thank you for this.
And, my goodness—what a precious treasure to have this dear friend and mentor throughout the years, Laurie. I imagine it would be so comforting and life-stirring to have someone to look to, and discuss with, the arts and life.
The neighbor truly overflowed with kindness. I will not forget her.
And yes, I treasure the relationship with my mentor, so multi-faceted: teacher, director, friend, mother figure, sister in Christ, fellow performer. You will get to hear her in the next Poems to Listen By series: “Time Lines.” : > )
Looking forward to it!
Oh dear Laurie,
I just love that you knocked on that angel’s door.
It wasn’t easy. But it was good practice being an empty-handed recipient of grace.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, you two!
Thank you!
These…
“spontaneous words of prayer anchor me.”
“Blessed are they who possess Bethlehem in their hearts and in whose hearts, Christ is born daily.”
“fleeting brush with eternity.”
“ But we would have missed…”
Repeating the sounding joy, “Thank you.”
Dear Rick, I am quietly thanking the One who inspires the words: yours, mine, the neighbor’s, Jerome’s, and all those who leave a comment here or send up a prayer of their own.
Wishing you and your family December days underscored by “the sounding joy”!
Laurie,
This is beautiful on so many levels! Your poet’s crafting of words, the link to Jerome, the truth of the actual frustrating experience, your conclusion. A gift to all in Advent! Thank you!
Dear Linda, what a gift to read your words, thank you!
Wishing you and those you love glorious celebrations and abiding peace.
Must be the week for locked steering wheels …happened to us Sunday …. Second time for me so I knew there was a solution this time …just couldn’t remember it ..lol
It was in the handbook …isn’t it wonderful how folks understand and demonstrate caring and compassion in times like that .. …much like we’re seeing in the aftermath of the terrible tornado’s in Kentucky.. Heaven surely has a welcome place for those whose hearts are open to serve …
Oh no, Larry, you too? Makes me feel better, thanks. : > )
And yes, just when we’re tempted to bemoan interactions among polarized people along comes kindness. Generosity. Spontaneous solace. Practical solutions in the midst of ruin.
May our hearts stay “open to serve . . .”
How often has frustration been the foundation for a serendipity blessing! Your story (so perfectly told) is a perfect example. Thank you, Laurie!
Nancy, you’re so right about this. If only we can pause, peer beneath the prickly circumstance. No wonder the Rabbi told stories “to create readiness in people” (as Peterson translates it).
Wishing you a beautiful Christmas, my friend. I appreciate you so much.
Wow! Laurie that was magnificent!!
I miss you, my dear.
Much love,
Jonelle
Jonelle, how absolutely lovely to hear from you this morning. I’m smiling like crazy. Thank you so much for reading along.
I miss you and your beloved and wish you the merriest, lovingest Christmas ever!
I wish you a loving establishment Christmas too. We will have our daughter-inlaw and 2 granddaughters with us. Have not seen them for 3 years!!
Oh JOY!!! Blessings pressed down, running together, overflowing your hearts and home!
Just reading this is the balm I needed today!! Blessings on your Christmas celebration! XOXO
“Balm” — that is such a tactile word for me. I’m so glad you found some here today. Thanks for letting me know.
Blessings and Beauty on your days, my friend, and in the New Year!
Beauty in the unexpected days 😍
Love this
Patti
Patti, I’ve never outgrown my childhood love of surprises . . . and the little stories they so often launch. : > )
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you and yours!
Simply splendid. You are like St Jerome to me–an endless discoverer of this: “Blessed are they who possess Bethlehem in their hearts and in whose hearts, Christ is born daily.”
The thing I like about Bethlehem is that it is about poverty. A paupers birthing place where every next thing not only seems like riches…it IS RICHES.
Susan, oh to see those waiting riches more clearly, more deeply and broadly — and, when they’re disguised, sooner! — “every next thing” the promise, ever-unfolding . . .
Oh my word…. the way you weave a story. Well, the way GOD weaves a story. So much encouragement and beauty here, Laurie. Thank you.
ps. thank you for the Shakespeare nod–you sent me to my sonnet collection to read and ponder later!
Dear Jody, I have to say I adore being a strand in God’s shuttle as a tale weaves back and forth, between inspiration and imagination.
So so good to be numbered among the threads . . .
Merry Christmas, friend!