Today was a beautiful day in the Bay area. In fact both days of the weekend have been sunny and clear and warm as this part of the country heads toward spring. I was grateful to be out in it today, walking in the Park with Honor after we dropped Jared off for work. I am grateful this evening for signs of the divine and for being able to recognize them for what they are. As I mentioned in a blog last week, I’d had an emotionally challenging week and, as often I often do when I’m struggling, I prayed and pleaded with God for a sign that would let me know that I had not been forgotten, left out here high and dry. As I wrote in my morning journal one day last week, “Even Jesus felt forsaken by God at one point. Am I any better than Jesus? I do wish that God would show up and very clearly let me know she/he/it/_____ is really ‘there’ for me…”
That sentiment reminded me of a song I wrote in 1995 not too long after my mother died. I refer to it as my “angry at God” song. Here’s how one part of it goes:
God if you can really hear me, please won’t you give me a sign; Just to know that you’re there or that you even care Just to know that you’re still on the line. I need something I can feel, hear, or see Cause right now the silence is deafening to me But no matter how I cry God doesn’t seem to know that I’m there….Ouch! You might say. But that is how it is with me and God sometimes. If God were human and had shoulders, I would suggest that she has big enough shoulders to handle my ranting at her from time to time. Many great women and men of faith have railed at God and lived to tell the tale, so I figure I’m in pretty good company. I actually believe that God perhaps appreciates raw realness to fake piety and praise. So, God blesses me in spite of myself and in spite of those times I rant and shake my fist at the heavens, or plop down in the middle of everything and allow myself a good, self-pitying cry. I don’t want to treat how I was feeling last week too lightly and flippantly; I was in some distress and pain, and if I were watching someone else experiencing that, I would hasten to comfort and assist them in any way I could. I should extend that same love and concern toward myself when I am the one facing difficulty as I would for my children, siblings, friends or even people I don’t know for that matter.
The other morning I was caught in the throes of intense loneliness that hits me from time to time. I had been writing in my journal that morning about how I really needed to work on and let go of a serious, self-limiting belief about having been forgotten in the midst of all the drama in my life. Writing about such thoughts has served a clarifying purpose as if writing it out on the page and looking at it brought it into sharper relief. As I was writing, the phone rang. The person calling was a relatively new friend with whom I’ve had an interesting relationship, not always easy but good for the most part. She told me she’d been thinking about me, that in my recent Facebook post I had sounded down. She went on to tell me that she thought about me every day, and though she didn’t consider herself a “pray-er” she sent positive thoughts in my direction every day. She told me that if I ever needed a place to stay for a few months as I’m figuring out my job situation, I could stay with her. I was blown away.
Her call couldn’t have been a clearer sign from the Universe that no, I hadn’t been forgotten, that there’s at least one someone (and probably more) who thinks about me on a regular basis. Sometimes I can get caught up in the stories I tell myself about how hard things are and how I’m in this by myself. I’m grateful to the friend who called and busted through that myth and reminded me that she and God are paying attention. I’m grateful to her for the kindness of her reaching out and of her offer of support. I’m grateful to God for whispering to her, nudging her to reach out and call and for sending me the clear signal I’d asked for. I am looking forward to a good week, filled with compassion and lovingkindness, equanimity and–dare I say it–joy. I can’t say that I’ve experienced a whole lot of joy, but I am looking forward to cultivating it with great intention and mindfulness. May we be free from suffering and the causes of suffering. May we experience the arising and passing of all things with equanimity and balance. May we be peaceful and happy. May we hold our sorrows and the pains and grief we bear with great compassion. May we be safe and protected from harm. May we be healthy and strong. May we live with joy, ease, and wellbeing. Let it be so.
