It has been a crazy day. Let me give you a brief rundown:
- Played two church services this morning--one at 9 a.m., the second at 10:45 a.m.
- Livestreamed a TubaChristmas concert at the local regional history center. (Yes, that is EXACTLY what it sounds like--31 tubas and euphoniums playing Christmas carols for an hour.)
- Went grocery shopping.
- Took my puppy for a long walk.
- Read Christmas essays and poems for an Advent celebration at one of the Lutheran churches for which I play keyboard.
The good thing about staying so busy is that I had no time to feel overwhelmed or sad. I simply moved from event to event, taking it one step at a time. Of course, I'm kind of exhausted now.
Billy Collins finds things for which to be thankful . . .
American Airlines #371
by: Billy Collins
Pardon my benevolence,
but given the illusion that my fellow passengers and I
are now on our way to glory,
rising over this kingdom of clouds
(airy citadels! unnamable goings-on within!)
and at well over 500 miles per hour,
which would get you to work in under one second,
I wish to forgive the man next to me
who so annoyed me before the wine started arriving
by turning each page of his newspaper
with a kind of crisp, military snap,
and the same goes for that howling infant,
and for the child in the row begin me
who persisted in hitting that F above high C
that all of her kind know perfectly how to hit
while rhythmically kicking the back of my seat.
Yes, I have softened and been rendered
even grateful by the ministrations of Eva,
uniformed wine bearer in the sky,
and if we are not exactly being conveyed to Paradise,
at least we are vectoring across the continent
to Los Angeles–orange tree in the backyard,
girl on a motorcycle roaring down Venice Boulevard.
And eventually we will begin our final descent
(final descent! I want to shout to Eva)
into the city of a million angels,
where the world might terminate or begin afresh again,
which is how I tend to feel almost every day–
life’s end just around another corner or two,
yet out of the morning window
the thrust of a new blossom from that bush
but given the illusion that my fellow passengers and I
are now on our way to glory,
rising over this kingdom of clouds
(airy citadels! unnamable goings-on within!)
and at well over 500 miles per hour,
which would get you to work in under one second,
I wish to forgive the man next to me
who so annoyed me before the wine started arriving
by turning each page of his newspaper
with a kind of crisp, military snap,
and the same goes for that howling infant,
and for the child in the row begin me
who persisted in hitting that F above high C
that all of her kind know perfectly how to hit
while rhythmically kicking the back of my seat.
Yes, I have softened and been rendered
even grateful by the ministrations of Eva,
uniformed wine bearer in the sky,
and if we are not exactly being conveyed to Paradise,
at least we are vectoring across the continent
to Los Angeles–orange tree in the backyard,
girl on a motorcycle roaring down Venice Boulevard.
And eventually we will begin our final descent
(final descent! I want to shout to Eva)
into the city of a million angels,
where the world might terminate or begin afresh again,
which is how I tend to feel almost every day–
life’s end just around another corner or two,
yet out of the morning window
the thrust of a new blossom from that bush
whose colorful name I can never remember.
Now that the flight of this day has landed for me, and I have a few moments to reflect before I go to sleep, I want to focus on gratitude for a moment.
You see, despite my current state of sadness, I know that I'm an incredibly blessed person. Blessed with family and friends. It's easy, when I'm struggling with darkness, to lose sight of how much I am loved. These last few weeks, I've had so many people reach out with words and embraces and kindnesses. I have been saturated with compassion, empathy, and goodness.
Tonight, after the Advent program, we celebrated with Christmas cookies and treats. I sat at a table with some of my closest friends and companions from the church. As I was about to dig into my plate of goodies, I was handed a gift bag.
Inside was a card inscribed with personal messages from so many of the people I care about and who care about me. I almost started crying. Then I removed the colorful tissue paper from the bag, and I pulled about some Bigfoot swag--a keychain/multi-purpose tool and a towel. It was another amazing reminder that, even though I feel as hugely unlovable as Bigfoot at the moment, my life if full of graces.
If you are part of my family at Faith Lutheran, I thank you for accepting me with so much generosity of heart and spirit.
You've made this broken saint a little more whole.
❤️
ReplyDelete