It’s Saturday morning and my elderly dog, Jack, fell out of bed from his high perch lying next to me and down to the floor, his attempt to recenter himself sounding like a novice tap dancer striking out in every direction in search of a rhythm. Awakening to the fog of a new day, I rushed to my own feet—suddenly aware that I had joined Jack in the struggle for footing as I steadied myself with the wall and found instead the sliding French door of our closet as it immediately gave way—the room now swirling about. Seconds later the light was on and after satisfying myself Jack had not allowed nature to take its course onto our bedroom floor, the sheer humor of two old men stumbling into their early morning must have brought a smile to our respective angels watching, unseen.
We made our way to the outside door so Jack could do his thing. After getting him water for his soon (or not so soon) return from duty I muddled my way to the bathroom to do my thing. Minutes later Jack joined me, stretching out on the floor awaiting his master and sleep partners morning prep so we could make our way to McKD’s for breakfast, the Wall Street Journal, scripture reading and maybe some blog work or listening before the day is begun.
At this writing I’m profoundly depressed. Overly tired and anxious about the stresses I know our congregation, my wife’s family and I face is the context. The text is that I forgot to grab today’s regimen of psych meds and so I’m also in the early stages of bio-chemically induced 1/2 life—generalized fog, fatigue, irritability. If unaddressed it shall in short order turn to intense anger, flu like symptoms and an attendant inability to think.
So, I will drive home while it is safe snd take my meds and stare into the day. The balls flying around me, hanging in the air for attention will not wait. They include multiple COVID deaths in the same family, transition of close friend and colleague leaving Seattle for Vancouver, another family wanting to gather for a pre-death memorial type service, photo-copier down—parts ordered, expososure to Covid by staff member likely moving this Sunday’s service to online only, my brother in-laws multiple challenges and our mom moving today to an assisted living space, plus all the construction wraps on our building. Joetta or I have each been driving to Vancouver almost every other week for a year. This week is her turn.
And Jack? Well he’s in the back seat oblivious to it all.
Am I hopeful? Absolutely! Why? Look at the text below.
I’m just the branch. Jesus is the vine and the gardener. As in my blog two days ago, I don’t need to see myself as a savior. Instead it is my privilege to work and extend the creative energy that flows from the Gardner. As per the first Moody Blues blog, “I’m just a Singer in a rock‘n roll band“.
Second, and more importantly I am loved and trusted by the gardener with cultivating inside the communal garden of human need and potential. The work I am called to do is pretty damn exciting (sorry, but it needs emphasis). I get an inside look at what Jesus does inside all these tough—incredibly heart wrenching—situations that I can’t fix. That’s where the fun is! I’m not just a hired hand but a friend of the gardener invited in to do what I can. If COVID means I can’t visit the families and can only be available to bless and pray—k, that’s what I’ll do.
So, my brain is screaming fog. Time to stop. I hope your day, whatever it entails, is as gifted as mine. My choice is to not blame, God or humans, but to bless. I know God doesn’t create bad stuff and I have no clue why God doesn’t just make it go away. Well, actually I do. have a clue or two, but we’d have to spend a week just on time travel theory to talk about God’s dilemma inside all this. At the end of the day all I can do is “turn the page“ and “write with love. Isn’t life strange?”
Blessing! Terry
This writing is prompted by two sources:
1) Selections from John 15:1-11
““I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples. If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. This is my command: Love each other.”
John 15:1-2, 4-5, 7-8, 10-11, 17 NIV
2) “The Columnists”, Article, page #46 of “The Wall Street Journal Magazine”, Fall 2021 (on Resilience)
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