Today was a whirlwind.
It ended so quick. My list of things to do, including my normal meditation and prayer, just flew by. I don’t know how the day ended without having done what I needed. I found myself moving through the motions, finding myself doing things without thinking. At one point I remember realizing I was in the grocery store, but forgetting what I was looking for.
Yet I also found this very thing causing me to stop. I sat and watched TV for hours, without thinking, simply laughing at the comedy. A friend showed up with gifts of beer, of flowers, of cards from herself and the school we attended together. Another brought me lunch. Both filled my fridge. I was brought out for relaxing drink at a nearby café. I may not have gotten through my twenty to do’s but I have found grace, pure grace, breaking forth all over. I find myself being invited by exhausted body, broken heart, and stretched mind to do what meditation does even without meditating: to acknowledge the limits of my body, limits of myself, to set aside a bit my need for doing to embrace I am a human being.
The grief is painful and disorienting. But… Even in my disorientation I see a gift. My system knows I am stretched. It gives me rest. It makes me stop. It lets me know “Micah you can do so much, but no more”. And so I do what I can, practicing the promise of one of my breath prayers — “God grant me the serenity to accept those things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
The best parts of the day – sitting mindlessly watching a comedy, playing with my dogs, laughing and crying with some friends, the simple joy of a hair cut from my favorite barber shop – are to me pictured by the Scripture found on the card from my old school. “Come with me,” its translation of Mark 6:31 says, “to a quiet place and get some rest”.
And so I rest. So I wait. Though my life is turbulent, like the raging waters of the sea, for a moment I can sit atop the jagged rocks overhead, hearing the waves underneath crashing against those rocks. I can know I am held. I can trust it is not all up to me.
Wherever you are on life’s journey, may you find such for yourself and others.