It is the end of the year. It is December. Close to Christmas and my son’s 13th birthday. There are so many things to be done and I continue to mostly not do any of them. I find my self preoccupied with my own internal musings. My own gloom and doom outlook. All of the things that could go wrong.
I am trying not to but sometimes it is hard. In a world of undoing healthcare and taking away public lands and restricting access to contraception and awarding tax breaks to those least in need of it. I am sometimes questioning many things. What am I doing? What have I been doing? What should I be doing? Is it just too late? Have I let my own fear prevent me from doing what I should have, could have done? It all seems to feed into my ever continuing existential crisis. And I don’t know how to get that out of my head.
I know that I need to let things go. I know that I am lucky. That I am blessed. I know these things. But it is still difficult. A friend was recently diagnosed with a serious disease (thankfully her prognosis is very good). I think of that and know that I should just let it all go.
I am trying. I keep going to church. I can honestly say that I love just being there. There is something about its physical structure that just speaks to my soul. The Musical Director spoke during a service recently and he compared the Cathedral to a “thin place” which he explained is a term used to describe a place in time and space “between heaven and earth that has grown thin. A place where the sacred and the secular meet….a porthole into the spiritual world” (to paraphrase a bit). This appeals to me. Deep inside. And I do believe this because I feel it. I feel it when I am there.
I try to take that feeling with me. When I am not physically at the Cathedral. I suppose that is what Father Moki would call, keeping Jesus in your heart. Perhaps that is what it is. For sure, I hear Fr. Moki’s voice sometimes. And this happened to me this weekend. I was approached by a homeless man asking for money in the parking lot of Safeway. I initially turned him away but then I remembered that Fr. Moki had told us that he does not give money to people but will ask if they want food. After putting the groceries in the car, I found this man and asked him if he wanted a sandwich or something. I was expecting a request for, I don’t know what but he asked me for fruit and I ended up buying him a container of strawberries. And I tell this story, because it makes me feel badly. And it makes me feel badly because of how surprised I was that this man wanted to have strawberries. But then, he is just like me, except homeless (and apparently a Marine veteran) and I like strawberries. So why shouldn’t he want strawberries. But I hate that this choice surprised me.
But I continue trying. Trying to not be surprised. To not think that someone else, maybe not as blessed as I am, would like strawberries. Because I know that that could be me. Could have been me. That the decisions made could have been completely different. That nothing is guaranteed. And that is what I am trying to keep in my heart. To keep in my head. That everyone likes strawberries.