Then and Now (Thoughts on a Saturday Morning)

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: ... a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, .... ~ Ecclesiastes 3:1,4

I’m sitting here in the sunshine listening to the birds chirp outside my window. About a year ago, those chirping birds drove me nuts. I was going through a painful break-up, and my brother was fighting for his life against cancer, a fight he soon lost. I couldn’t bear to witness the beauty of the world. The birds woke me up at 4:30am, just before the dawn, and they made me cry. All I wanted to do is sleep. But I couldn’t sleep; relentlessly a new dawn would come. I was taking a ride on this earth, around and around, and I wanted off. I wanted everything to stop.

Now the morning sunshine is warm and beautiful, and the birds sound hopeful. Even though my brother is dead. Even though my love is gone. Even though the earthquake and tsunami survivors in Japan are in their first stages of grief. We must, each of us, walk through our own devastations. Each of us will take as long as it takes to stumble through.

The ground beneath our feet can seem solid, but then in a minute it can begin to shake and crumble out of control. To feel fear is human, but to stay fearful because of life’s uncertainties is to cease living. This is something I need to remind myself, sometimes daily. It’s easy to get dragged down. As U2 sings, Every day I die again, and again I'm reborn. Every day I have to find the courage to walk out into the street with arms out. Got a love you can't defeat….Walk out, into the sunburst street. Sing your heart out….I've found grace inside a sound – I found grace, it's all that I found. And I can breathe.

And so I breathe. And enjoy the birds and the sunshine. Because they are there now for me to enjoy.