Reflections on Lent - Day 4
The storms have found us. Lightning strike, thunder boom. It has been a surprise for me today up on this hill. Was I not looking? Not paying attention to the weather? Apparently, that's a no go. I was working on the new novel when my alarm sounded. It was time for the live Reader Posse Round up at high-noon and I was looking forward to connecting with my readers, giving them a sneak peek of some new words from the page. But instead I kept repeating myself, finally gave in to giving up, hanging up. Calling it done. Later, I sent them an original short story as apology. Thanks for tuning in but today has been called due to weather.
My Lent embarkment has been to remember how to pray silently for a stranger each day. How to keep someone, place someone, on my heart in such a way it matters to me. Where I connect with someone human in a short, small way that reminds me to be human. 40 days. That's all. Surely, after having done this for three years running and then some I can pull off 40 days.
Then the storm. The things that waylay us. Storms in everyday. Storms in life. Things that derail us so easily from the goal we had, the lofty thing, the desire for better than we were before. But today - oh my, what a surprise. As I said, I was writing. Nested in. There had been grey skies and some clouds and so early on I built a fire just for purpose. The kind where you gaze and snuggle down and work sitting on the floor, laptop in - well, lap. Literally. I live up the hill without a basement much to speak of. More crawl space that I would think if I was crawling in the house would cave in upon me. Sometimes there seems to be no safe place. I have that closet I've written of. The one beneath the stairs. Close enough it's what I've got.
Today, I didn't venture out so no strangers met but still some find their way to mind. People used to ask me, "What do you do if you don't leave home that day? Then what? What prayers are lifted up or said?"
"There's always someone," I would reply. "An unknown authors name on the spine of novel laying out. The face in a newspaper, the voice on a radio."
Our worlds are encased with strangers.
Today, as the lightening struck near the house, connecting to the ground singing something out there somewhere, as thunder explodes even now as I write these words in such a way I start and jump, think - Will there be no end to this today? And the weather service sends me yet again an alarm that says Lightning has struck closer than a mile.
I want to tell them, Yes, I know. I'm living here. I was raised in the deep south. Full of storms and summers. This is the stuff that I was made of.
And I think of that first cousin to my stomping grounds, Alabama and her recent heartbreak. My stranger then today is this. Those who lost and are grieving still from storms that shook and killed and wiped away hearts and worlds. For them I bow my head today.
The lightning makes me jump, the thunderclaps are way too bold and truth be told the smallest vein of fear dares to run amok in me. But, I am not afraid to pray. For Peace be still. For kingdom come. Thy will be done. Even when my flesh opposes me.
Tonight, again - Alabama rests heavy on my heart. Because I know the storms have passed but the hurt lingers on. Always will. And the best we can do is to continue loving and try to understand.
The sky is a solid mass of unwavering grey today. Aptly fitting for Ash Wednesday. There's no relief of rain. No promise of the parting clouds. Like the whole Earth is in mourning, clinging to its pain. A type of ashen twilight that will last eternal.
Rescue Kevin lays in the bed of leaves outside the door napping in the cool. He doesn't mind the sky at all. When I ask if he wants in he stretches, rolls his eyes in apology that he finds his bed more satisfying than my company. Eventually, Summer will arrive and my company in air conditioning will be much more in demand.
That grey sky today.
Somewhere there are lovers holding hands and making promises I hope last beyond the next full moon, the next low tide. The breathing in and out of this planet. That they have loves made out of storybooks.
Yet, somewhere too, there is an old person sitting all alone, looking out the window, hoping someone will ring the doorbell or their phone. A delivery perhaps from a sweetheart who has remembered them from old times past.
Last night I drove to the store and a firetruck rushed past it's siren wailing. The coyotes began their high pitched wails in response. I noticed how far they were up on that ridge beyond the river. I wonder where will they go now that we've come and inch by inch are taking everything. Where will all the wild ones go?
Today collides two events I've spent a lifetime observing. An unlikely paring of Valentines- that day of kisses and chocolate candies, and Ash Wednesday, that day of ashes and repentance.
Grade school was made for Valentines. We made those silly little envelopes and taped them to our desks. Then we went around dropping tiny envelopes in one another's mailboxes always hoping that our secret crush would choose that one large card in the pack that said something special and cryptic like - Valentine I Swoon for You. All the rest of them said, you are sweet, kind, my friend.
Being raised Episcopalian Ash Wednesday held a special significance. We went for ashes to be placed on our forehead in the form of the cross and the priest said, Ashes to ashes, dust to dust in a somber voice and then continued down the line - From the dust you came and to the dust you will return.
That this day falls on Valentines this year is simply Southern gothic perfection. I can consider the wages of love and repentance, sweetness and loss, in one swift hand.
The wind blows unrelenting. The fingerbones of the trees waving against the dismal sky. A lone crow calls out.
Perfect Lenten weather.
Perhaps tonight the sky will clear and lovers will find stars above them as they thread their way through streets to dinner. Or their love may cast its own bright light in all the darkness. Then, so be it. Let them drink and celebrate their lives bound together.
My life found more ashes than I expected but also more love. A kind of general love that meets the world beyond the walls of my cynic heart. This love - it leaps over me. Makes way for itself in spite of my comments and asides. This wild love knows something fierce. Something more akin to forty days than heart-shaped papers. A love born in deserts, surrounded by space and darkness, wilderness and wild.
I've longed for such I do confess. In times long past. A willingness to lay down myself, become another. A partnership of perfection. Eternal kisses, forever bliss.
Now the rain comes, it hits the glass in large drops unrelenting. Look. The sky finds relief after all. At least something moves, something happens.
For years I've seen in other peoples eyes, this one here and that one there - a type of kinship. Knowing another soul ar first meeting. A fast friends type of thing, brushing lives with a stranger in a line or some odd place. A mechanic shop. A bar. A bank. A struck up conversation. Not a romantic kind of love but that of just the sameness of being human. Man, woman, child. An understanding. When there is nothing left but craving understanding. It is a - see me. Hear me. Please before I break.
Forty Days. The Lenten Season. A valentine of words. Love and loss. Renewing and remembrance. It is the Yin and yang. The balancing of moon and sun, dark and light.
Love, sometimes a sacrifice. Eternal and Divine on scale of God as man or just a tiny act. A little bit of time. A coin. A rose.
Whatever love looks like for you today I hope that you find it - a greater love, a deeper love, an older love, a newer love, first love, last love or the soulmate that you seek.
The rain is steady now. It's become a small downpour. The driveway is washing away down the road. Kevin takes me up on a dry towel and a bone. We've come together to celebrate what it means to be alive in this life. Up on this hill. Watching the rain fall while voices of all manner whisper through this night, 'I Love you' and 'ashes to ashes, dust to dust.'
It's the then some that'll get you. That's the part that has you in St. Paul, MN where they love my accent and I say - What accent? - where I lost my Drivers License, Bank card 1 (the mortgage acct and all serious bill bank), bank card 2 (the lipstick account), my passport card, my insurance card, and my cosco card. All together in a nifty little pouch I wore around my neck to make certain I didn't LOSE these things. But at the time I was getting ready to speak and go on stage so I jerked it off my neck, wrapped the chain around it and threw it into a book bag. The book bag looked just like the other book bags that one thousand fourteen hundred women were carrying. I knew it was a bad decision when I did it - and I did it anyway.
When I went on stage I started the conversation (as I consider any booked engagement keynote or no) by making a little annoucement to these women - Just in case, if you have seen, and so on. There was an audible groan of "Oh, no!" To which I replied, OH, DON'T WORRY - I do this type of thing ALL THE TIME. Because the fact is - I'm a Mess. Which became my impromptu title of my talk which was scheduled to be about Divine Meetings with Strangers (I think - more on title talks later).
I went on to tell the story for instance of me recently speaking in Phoenix, AZ for the organization that cares for, educated, trains, feeds, houses, the homeless. It was their annual fundraising breakfast and I had toured the facilities the day before, met some of their graduates from training programs and witnessed the amazing work they were doing opening up a restaurant. A great event. Then I went on to spend a few nights with friends in Scottsdale. Where I took it upon myself to pluck one grapefruit and one lemon from their trees. A spring of Jasmine, put it all in my carry on bag, sprayed myself with Chanel and went to the airport. It was one of the times I had the preferred security clearance. Short line. No shoes off. No laptop out of bag. No hassle. Except there was a little problem. When I walked through the scanner an alarm went off.
"No problem," the guard told me, "We just need to swipe your hands."
She swiped. I watched. She put the little swipey thing in a machine. It said - EXPLOSIVES DETECTED.
"We just need to reswipe you, just one minute."
She put it in the machine. It read "EXPLOSIVES DETECTED"
I had an sinking feeling that I was no longer in the no hassle line but had bumped into some trouble.
"Why does it say explosives on that machine?"
"Oh, it just does that sometime. Are you wearing perfume."
"Oh, Chanel for sure will do it."
She put the swipey thing in another machine. EXPOSIVES DETECTED.
" We are going to have to ask you to step aside."
The step aside led to a private room, two women guards. A shake down, frisk down, then they called in the bomb squad. Searched me and my bags again. Had a little conversation with me about why I was in town. "Here to help the homeless."
"All the way from Nashville?"
I would have gone on to explain I was the speaker but a man appeared at the door and whispered to the bomb expert that they had discovered "a residue of white powder".
"Goodie Powders," I tell him. It's just goodies. Headache powders they are. I can't deny it I have a habit. It's that kick of caffeine in them I think that has me hooked.
I was finally packed up cleared and made my flight just in time. It's the first time I've been early to a plane in my life. Thought I'd have a lovely few hours in the airport to work.
Flash forward, present day.
I tell the women I really need those cards to get on the plane so if they find them . . . . As women are in the book signing line they are all a tad concerned about me making that flight out. "Don't worry, I'll get through security somehow."
Then someone pointed out, "Yes, River but that was before. NOW they have you on the bomb list."
Tomi Wiley, Book Publicist extraudinare flew in with me to assist (and was invaluable in all things needed including procuring my drivers license number for me from secret sources just in time for me to get through security. But it wasn't without the frisk down.
That went a bit like this.
Mamn, I'm gonna have to pat pat and then pat pat, and some more (charlie brown mother voice) while you (more wahwahwah) . There are people walking all around me. As the guard begins to pat pat pat, HELLO THERE, that's personal, pat pat pat, shake shake shake. Hokey pokey leg out, leg in.
Are you ok, Mamn?
Oh, sure, closest thing to a massage I've had all year. Have you seen my assistant? I hope she's getting this for facebook.
"Yes, I think she is the blond over there. She keeps checking on you." Pat, Pat, pat pat.
Now I need you to put one leg out, are you ok? Do you need to get a room?
Um, nope, think I"m good right out here in front of a thousand people doing this? Do you need a room?
Needless to say - I'm not writing this from jail so I made it through. Tomi Wiley reported two things - That she was highly insulted that the TSA prison guard thought she was a blond when she was clearly a redhead. And that two - She told her husband only River Jordan would have a guard cracking up and laughing the whole time they are frisking her down.
I am in the process of replacing everything but so far have only managed to get a Cosco card. I'm carrying it around as my official id because it has that little picture thing on it. I went in just to ask them if they had any I-phone cases. "You know, the ones you can put all your id and bank cards in?"
I figure if I'm gonna lose stuff, I need to make certain it's the kitchen sink and then some.
How are things in your world today?
Thanks so much for reading, liking and sharing with friends.