I consider it pure gift living on this
magnificent work of art we call Earth.
But so much of what is happening here makes my heart want to sink.
I feel acutely the pain that comes from loving so much and so deeply. I want to live wide awake and aware and available and awash in hope. But seeing can drain and discourage me into drawing back. I love this planet and long to ease her suffering…to be a part of healing her deeply.
But HOW? The list of what I don’t have is long and daunting; I feel helpless and small in the face of searing injustice and destruction. I sense the surging of the river that flows through my heart and colors my own world with the essence of the One I call Lord. It’s life-giving water, this….unseen but real, just the same. There must be some way to release this river into the universe like an organic infusion of the same love that saves me.
I don’t know if I heard or dreamed it, but a certain lyric haunts me at times like this:
“Jenny Wren, when the smothering starts, sing…..sing from your heart.” I think of the gazillion ways to sing a song into this earth….to sling life and love into dirty waters until bitter places become sweet. Those songs live in the artisan wells inside us. They’re nothing more than the art of our lives infused with heaven…when we simply are who we were born to be.
It doesn’t have to make sense, like a chemical treatment or special soap. But the earth needs our art like the ground needs rain. When we let it out…those treasures in our reservoirs…healing happens. The expressions will be as unique and diverse as we are.
The ugliness is epic…..and it’s TRUMPED by beauty. Everytime. There is more than enough of God for this. In releasing my tiny parts, my heartcries, I have to believe that heaven hears and earth responds. If I listen closely, maybe I can hear her sigh, as if a soothing breeze has passed over her feverish pain and encouraged her to take a deep breath and look up…that help is on the way.
When I choose to believe that life swallows death and that joy is for now and it’s stronger than despair, every brush stroke, tree trimmed, weed pulled and story told becomes a prayer. Every act of hope….homemade chocolate icing swirled across warm cake and topped with plump raspberries…an act of defiance against darkness. I do care…and so I live out the everydayness from the bottom of my heart.