“It wasn’t an accident.”
The words ricocheted through my brain, disconnected from the event which inspired the comment; a young child yelled at by his mom for spilling, or uh… possibly tossing, his hot chocolate. For me, though, these words immediately brought to mind a conversation from years ago: “It was not an accident,” my friend told me. “It was suicide.” The idea of suicide was impossible to get my head around - then and now. Perhaps I am simply too big a commitment-phobe; but dying seems like a pretty big decision. How does someone reach that point where they believe death is better than life? My friend was fragile; this I knew about her. It wasn’t the first time she had tried…. And it should not have been a surprise. Don’t get me wrong… there have been times in my life when darkness has surrounded me; when I have felt that the life I am living is somehow unreal and disconnected from the world. I remember these times particularly at the holidays, when darkness and light are metaphors for so much more; and when so many people experience real depression and alienation. Usually at these moments, when I dwell in the loneliness of being an individual, I find myself faced with a vision of real difficulty; a homeless person begging on an icy cold street; a mother of 5 kids with a shopping cart full of macaroni and cheese and food stamps to pay for them; an old person, alone in the window of a dark old house, staring out at nothing. I am grateful for these moments because they force me to realize that I am only grazing the surface of what it is to despair. And…. I am brought low, humbled by what some others must see; that in fact I am surrounded by light and that the darkness is only because my eyes are shut.
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"Ewww, Gross!"
The puddle of vomit spread across the gym floor, scattering the poor little kindergarteners sitting near it. While they moved away, the children's lack of concern had me wondering if throwing-up happened so frequently that they were used to it. 'Tis the season for hot chocolate, long lines, jingle bells, in-laws and.... spit-up. I'm not sure why this is true. Every year, though, without fail, we get sick from something right before winter break. Instead of praying over the miracle of Jesus' birth, I find I spend my night-time prayers convincing God why it would be really horrible to get sick right now. Dear God... Please don't let any of us get the flu right now. How can we go to our friend's party if we are sick? Or make cookies in our warm cinnamony kitchen? When will I be able to finish my Christmas shopping or gift wrapping? God, I know no one wants to be sick, and next year, well, we can talk about it then. But this year you have to keep us healthy. There aren't many more Christmases where the magic will be so present. So, please, please, please. Amen. The funny thing is that I am all about free-will when it is convenient. There are times, though, when I secretly hope that God can make a quick switch in the way things are supposed ot happen; like in the Adjustment Bureau. The young boy who is sick goes to cough and finds himself spun, by an invisible hand, in a different direction. Instead of the germs floating toward me they float off to the ether somewhere. The fact is though, I don't really believe life / God works that way. So, if my daughter is unlucky enough to end up next to the kid who is throwing up... well, that's just the way things happen sometimes. Will Santa still visit, of course (and probably add another gift to make up for the illness). Instead of Christmas cookies we'll make homemade noodles for soup. Our gifts will be crafty rather than store bought; and.... if sadly, she does get sick, at least my in-laws will be there to help take care of her and us. Maybe, this is what the kids know... the reason they didn't seem concerned. Life is filled with messy throw-up, but if we can overlook it, we will see the beauty that still surrounds us. |
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June 2020
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