grateful in the midst of it all...

Everyday is a mind-numbing mix of intense beauty and unspeakable horror. This is neither overstatement nor manipulation. Just the facts, ma'am. In the same hour I can be overwhelmed seeing virtual images of desecrated bodies only to hear the vulnerable beauty of friends in my living room singing close three and four part harmonies 25 minutes later. And this juxtaposition is not unprecidented or extraordinary in my days - probably so for you, too. 

Yesterday, Wednesday, April 6, I awoke refreshed and safe from a deep, satisfying sleep. I returned thanks to God for this privilege and greeted my lover before reading the headlines. After preparing a simple monkish breakfast of tea, toast, and peanut butter I read the revolting news of how Russian troops have tortured, mutilated, raped, and murder Ukrainian civilians. Less than an hour later I was in our local music store that exists as a shell of its former self: empty shelving, no products, minimal instruments alongside a box of used vinyl albums for sale. This once vibrant and thriving local business has been decimated both by the pandemic and the aftershock of supply chain complications. 

Next door, however, a home-grown pizza parlor was nearly filled with unmasked patrons taking in a variety of delicious, handmade goodies. Midday I read an essay about the stupid and cruel realities of PC cancel-culture run amock before heading off to a local elementary school for our bi-weekly ukulele lesson: we played 20 minutes of dodge ball outside (afterall, these young one have been at desks since 8 am and are both sleepy and restless.) We played a few simple chords together in unison and sang "The Wheels on the Bus." Andy and I gave some individual attention to the children struggling to get the correct fingering before I left to meet the pizza delivery person in anticipation of last night's band practice. He's early - good thing I left when I did. Band mates drift in, grab some pizza and beer, swap stories about the ups and downs of their day before we're ready to work hard @ 6:45 pm. For two solid hours we work through fourteen songs - sometimes 2 or 3 times each - changing keys, altering harmonies and rhythms, even passing a lead vocal off to a new/old/beloved friend who has come back to rock the house with us. One day of sorrow and grief that was also filled with generousity and some of the sweetest music I've ever heard (or helped create!)  An essay from GRATEFULNESS.org reminds me that:

It is in the moments when I am suffering most for the world that I realize I can often become incapacitated, looking for life to attend to me rather than turning myself to attend to life. In these times, I have forgotten that carrying a heavy burden of suffering is not the debt I owe a hurting world, nor the way I best prove my care. I have forgotten that it is exactly the pain of a broken heart combined with my belief in healing that offers me the capacity I need in order to be engaged. I have forgotten that when my eyes fill with wonder and my heart with love or joy, I do not betray my concerns for the world — I nourish my capacity to attend to them. Living gratefully supports us to wake up to the gift of a day without denying what is difficult or putting a positive spin on things. Gratefulness does not require that I substitute happiness for the richness and teachings of struggle. It does not ask that I look away from the suffering within and around me in favor of optimism. It does not say that I should have gratitude for everything; it is absurd to imagine that everything in life is worthy of our praise. But gratefulness suggests that everything in life warrants our greatest presence. And presence is precisely what makes us available for perspective and a sense of possibility, the agency of which fuels energy, imagination, and innovation to help us build a more hopeful future.

Apparently I went to sleep thinking about the joy and creativity I experienced making new music with trusted friends who are each excellent musicians. I am humbled that they have chosen to work with me. I am awed that we can do new things together even after having known one another for over 15 years. So, I wasn't surprised when I woke up at 2:30 am thinking about what needed to be added and tweaked to our show scheduled for Friday, April 29? It took me about forty mintues to sort through some options - and then I was ready to crash out again. Author, Kristi Nelson, adds:  Max Lerner’s proclamation that he was ‘neither an optimist nor pessimist, but a possibilist’ has long moved me. Gratefulness allows us to be moved toward possibility, even in the midst of outrage, fear, and grief. This is how I see my days as well: in the possibilist mode - neither optimistic nor pessimistic.

It's rainy now. The trees in the wetlands are just starting to share a hint of color with the rest of us. The birds who live there visit our front porch each morning for a bit of seed and suet. A few pesky but acrobatic squirrels, too. The first Black woman judge has been appointed to the US Supreme Court. The ugly Russian war of aggression in Ukraine rages along with violence in Myanmar, Yemen, and Ethiopia. Tomorrow the L'Arche Ottawa community gathers for prayer and meetings - and then we'll feast with beloved children in Northhampton on Indian fare. I pray never to take the joys or the pain for granted.

When the realities of violence, greed, racism, economic instability, or climate change get taken for granted, it is at great peril. They become like chronic pain or smog to which we have become acclimated. Sources of great suffering can become a backdrop that we see and question less. In the stagnation of being taken for granted, the harms in the world and the possibilities for repairing them are more easily overlooked. It can then, sadly, take more and more tragic wake-up calls to wake us up to what matters, and to what we can do about it.

This is a terrifyingly banal era of intense suffering, exhorbitant destraction, countless possibilities for delusion, and a staggering amount of blessings woven through the fabric of it all. Last night, as we were working out the finer points of Carrie Newcomer's "Sanctuary," I found myself so caught up in the shatteringly beautiful vocals that I lost place playing my acoustic, finger picking guitar. In that moment all I could do was take in a deep breath of gratitude, return a quick thanksgiving to the One who is Creator, and regroup. Ms. Nelson closes her reflection as I would, too:

The ability to wake up to another new day — one with which we will surely need to wrestle and reckon, but one that will also teach and transform us, one we will be able to influence and impact, one in which we can always declare and share love — this is the unpromised gift for which to be grateful. This is the opportunity not to take for granted. Because if we are truly awake, we know that one unpredictable day, we will simply not have the gift of another day — a day such as today, with all of its beauty and pain, opportunity and beckoning possibility.

(Picture of discarded face mask outside of Conte Elementary School)