While the cats are away,
the mice are gonna play! Heeeeeeere’s Rigel:
Rigel:
On this blog, Deb and Barbara have often guided us into conversations about a)
taking care of ourselves, and b) how to take deliberate care of others in times
of need. But, today, I want to talk about the times when, in small but
well-timed and therefore significant ways, a force outside of ourselves
seemingly steps in to provide precious incidents of unexplainable, unexpected
grace and tender loving care. I am not talking about huge moments. Quite the opposite! I am talking about tiny little treasures––scattered
moments of surprising personal significance. These are itsy bitsy events
precisely timed to make a big difference. When I think about these tiny moments
of grace, in my mind's eye, I see hands that are bruised and bloodied from
hanging on so tight to a ragged cliff face, dangling over a deadly abyss. And,
for a moment, these tired hands are being taken into the soothing, healing
hands of an angel and being refreshed, having the scrapes washed and bandaged.
The big problems aren't solved. But, the moment's agony is soothed. Those hands
may then go right back to holding onto that cliff face dangling over that
wretched abyss, but they will do so less tired and with a stronger grip. I want
to talk today about when the universe holds my hand.
Just
to be safe, here are two bits of full disclosure to smooth potential ruffled
feathers. First, I do not believe in coincidence. Y'all might, and that's cool. I think most
coincidences can be explained away by running lines of math and physics that
are beyond what I have an intellectual grasp on. Some things are just bound to
happen eventually if the iterations of probability and a congruence of variables
get run for long enough. But I also believe some portion of coincidences are
actually quite deliberately fostered by an outside force. And that brings me to my second disclosure.
This bloggie family is made of people along the full range of the faith
spectrum. Because I am a Christian (albeit NOT Fundamentalist––I am a social
justice oriented, feminist, increasingly radicalized Christian), heavily
influenced by Reform Judaism (tikkun olam being my chosen sacred, guiding
principle), as I write this blog post, my vocabulary will be influenced by my
theist perspective. I think of God or angels holding my hand. But, the concept
holds when applied using terms such as Allah, the Universe, karma, good energy,
Mother Earth, or even the plants thanking you for the nourishing compost you
just spread—any outside, larger, cosmic energy you endow with a degree of
sentience. Also, as a Christian, I believe in the “small, still voice” of the
Holy Spirit and that people who are open to this voice can be moved to be used
as God's hands and feet on Earth. I can't count how many times I've heard
stories and witnessed beautiful adventures that began with something along the
lines of, “I didn't know what was going on with him. I just kept feeling a
strong nudge to go by and check on him. Turns out it was perfect timing!” I can
only see the words I'm typing through my own eyes. I do not mean to alienate or
offend anyone. If you who are reading this are, for example, an atheist who
believes in coincidence, I'm eager to read your take on this subject! I hope
that the discussion on this post pretzels up my brain in a really fun,
interesting way that I get to ponder over for days to come! But to write with
any voice but my own would be a lie.
So,
what do I mean by having my hand held? What do I mean by being startled by tiny
moments of grace? I am not talking about huge things like a sudden windfall of
money, the healing of a disease, or rescue from a car accident. I am talking
about very minor, incidental, seemingly insignificant little drops of elixir
that startle me with the positive in the midst of the negative. For example,
during a teeth clinching, jaw aching, tension headache inducing, aggravating,
really pissy day, I get into the car, crank it up, and the radio springs to
life singing to me a happy, old favorite song with lovely memories attached. I
pause for a few heartbeats and smile a little. My fevered mind suddenly stops,
dives into a pool of clear, cold spring water, and then breaks the surface and
draws in a deep breath. I am refreshed by perfectly timed grace, which I do not
believe is a coincidence. And, afterward, I am better able to cope with the
garbage. I have been startled by grace. My hand has been held, and my
perspective has been shifted a few millimeters in a healthier direction. Or,
after a day of dealing with a seemingly endless stream of mean, rude, spiteful,
selfish people, I'm suddenly presented with a tall, handsome stranger of a man
with smile crinkled eyes, a deep voice, and strong hands with long fingers—a
gentleman who holds a door for me and gives me a nod and grin while calling me
ma'am. How can I not feel a warm flush of happiness wash through me upon this
reminder that not everyone is hateful and unpleasant? On a day when I'm feeling
unbearably trapped and suffocated in this town, the library will call and say
that an interlibrary loan I requested many, many weeks ago has come in. Perfect
timing! Suddenly, I have a happy bit of the outside world for my eyes and brain
to gobble up exactly when I most needed it! Or, as happened last week, in the two
days before time for child support and my paycheck to deposit when there was
less than dust in my bank account after having paid a high electric bill, a big
packet of grocery coupons came in the mail, including coupons for customer
appreciation freebies that happened to be for a couple of luxurious, indulgent
favorites of both my son and myself. We
had what we needed to get by with careful planning, but that packet of freebie
coupons gave us a surprise abundance, a small joy, treats in the middle of no
margin of error. Does a packet of coupons from that grocery chain come a few
times a year? Yes. But, what was so
special to me was that the packet arrived on THAT day. To me, it felt like a
cosmic treat saying, “Someone is paying attention to how hard you've been
trying, how careful you've been being. Someone knows how hard you've been
fighting to make sure your son feels safe, secure, and provided for. Someone
knows you're tired. Here's a little present for you to open to let you know you
aren't really alone. Now, walk up to the grocery store and get your free
goodies to enjoy until the money comes at the end of the week.” It's tiny,
perfectly timed gestures like these that are often just enough to reboot my
virus-ridden mental hard drive. They grab me by the scruff of the neck, yank me
up, and remind me, “It's not all bad. IT'S NOT ALL BAD. Someone is paying
attention. An angel just held your hand.” It's grace as a perspective check.
Then
there are the really bad times. During an ultra-difficult day or in the depths
of the rancid, sticky bowels of a long, dark night of the soul, I may be
struggling in suffocating muck and mire, frantically screaming red alert
klaxons in my mind begging for huge miracles and sweeping changes. During these
hours when hope has begun to fail and frustration is hitting critical mass, it
is most often one of these out of the blue tiny moments of grace from a source
outside of myself that starts to wake me up, that puts a crack in the wall of
dark fog. When I get like that, I get to
where I can't imagine things getting better. I can't see out of my pit. The fog
has blanketed out any light, any sense of goodness in the future. And I really,
really suck at getting myself out of that mindset. And, then, for example, my
computer will chime, and there'll be an email from Deb replying to an email I
had sent her days before. And that email will contain something that makes me
smile and laugh and makes me feel loved EXACTLY at the second I needed that.
(Deb, I bet you didn't know that sometimes your insomnia is well timed!) Or, in a day when I'm so deep in my pit that
I've begun to slide down into my bunker mentality, hiding from phone and email,
not leaving home, sheltering in place, out of the blue a friend who had no way
of knowing that I was in the midst of a dark spell will call up and say, “I'm
bored. It's almost Sonic half price happy hour. Can I come pick you up, and
we'll go get a soda?” When the universe holds my hand like this—the startling,
tiny moment of grace—it gives me enough pause to enable me to once again feel
the faint flicker of belief and hope that refuses to die in that place deep,
deep in my chest where the most essential corner of my soul seems to be almost
physically tangible. A gentle whisper takes my hand and reminds me, “Stop.
There is love. There is hope. You are not alone. Be still for a few seconds.
Feel gratitude for this moment of grace.
Gratitude. Gratitude. Gratitude.” These tiny gestures of care give me a
reorienting jolt – the proverbial slap to the face in the midst of hysterical
negativity. I can begin to see through a lens of gratitude instead of being
blinded by fear, rage, or panic. It doesn't fix everything. But, it helps me
imagine that in a few hours or a few days, I WILL feel better. It reminds me
that this feeling of unfixability, of hopelessness, is an illusion that will
pass. When the universe throws me one of these exquisitely timed tiny moments
of grace, I grab at the warm, fuzzy metaphysical security blanket with a grip
so tight that the knuckles of my spirit's fingers are whitened. I pay
attention. I collect these graces and line them up on a bookshelf in my brain
and take them down, flicking through their pages at later times when I need a
reminder, a gratitude tinged perspective check. A tiny moment of grace not only
changes the challenge it has interrupted. The gratitude wrapped memory
continues to heal long after the occurrence.
Why
did I chose this topic for the blog today, even running a risk since it is
religion tinged? So often this blog and the precious people within its embrace
are the source of these tiny moments of grace. So often, I have witnessed this
bloggie family being the handholds. And, not just for me. How often in the
comments have we read someone's words that the topic for the day was exactly
what she needed to read that day? How often have we answered that small, still
voice to close ranks around one of our number who is wobbly? I know y'all have
done it with me, and I count it a profound privilege to have been able to be a
part of doing it for some of y'all. How often have we read the words of someone
who has never spoken up before but who is chiming in for the first time to
describe experiencing a perfect, cosmic hand-holding via this blog? How many of
us now have at least one new, offline friend that we met online through this
blog—someone whom we never would've met otherwise but who has since fully
integrated herself into our lives? I do not believe this bloggie family has
coalesced by luck. Nor by the commonality of Colin fangirldom. I believe this
bloggie family has been formed as a sacred act of grace. The angels, God, the
universe, whatever you want to call it is holding our hands.
Colin
fangirldom. Yeah, I went there. * deep breath * Most of us have outed
ourselves as Colin fangirls. But, you know what? The whole Colin and Whose
Line? thing is an absolutely essential part of this topic. And, I would be a
shameful coward if I didn't address it. Colin, Ruth called it perfectly in a
conversation she and I once had. She said that your work is your ministry. That
is 100% true. You are an instrument of God's grace. You and your work are
angelic hand-holding. How many of us have admitted to finding, through Colin, a
spark of light, laughter, hope in the midst of unbearable darkness? How many of
us medicate our insomnia not with drugs but with Whose Line? clips on YouTube?
How many of us have written in discussions on this blog how Colin's work has
helped us, encouraged us, taught us, warmed us, freed us when we were locked up
in a bad place in our heads? How many of us have sought refuge in Colin's
gifts? The big, bad thing that was plaguing us at that moment wasn't fixed, but
enjoying Colin's work was that tiny spark of grace that helped refresh our
spirits, helped open up our minds to healing. A silly little something like
finding the right comedy video at the right time opened the door to a much
larger torrent of grace. A perspective shift, an unclinching, a deep breath. I
do not believe in coincidence. And how many of us? The majority of us? How many
were led into this bloggie family via Colin? A larger gift that has flowed from
an already precious one. Many of us have previously expressed our gratitude
here on the blog. But I'm saying it here in this post in a really face heating
up, heart racing, tummy churning way, hands shaking hard to type way: Thank
you, Colin. Thank you for your work. Thank you for introducing us to Deb and
Barbara. Thank you for your kind, gentle, patient strength. Thank you for all the
times you have answered that still, small voice.
I
also want to make sure that I reveal here, publicly, with complete honesty and
clarity my profound gratitude to Deb and Barbara for so frequently being open
to being the instruments of these moments of cosmic care. From the beautifully
unique approach of each woman flows beautifully unique grace. For example,
Barbara often presents a perspective I never could've imagined but that is
exactly what I need to examine at that exact, precise moment. She's freakishly
accurate. And Deb is the only person I know who can fuss at me hard without
hurting my feelings. And her fusses
always fall at exactly the right time. That cold splash, that jolt, that
reorientation. And they both are the perfect kind of silly when I am wound way
too tight. As instruments of grace, their notes are played with the purest,
richest tone and pitch. They are earthly angels being used to hold my bloody,
bruised hands. The praise and gratitude I feel about this cannot be covered even
by the strongest adjectives and superlatives. Exultant? Profound? Rapturous?
Enormous? No. There are not words sufficient to cover my gratitude for Deb and
Barbara. They both demonstrate love in a way I've never known before.
Anyway,
to close, I want to ask: Do you experience cosmic hand holding? How do you
perceive it? How do you explain
coincidences of grace? Do you ever get your mind rebooted by a tiny event?
What's your perspective on gratitude? Basically, what's your take on all this?
And,
also in closing, I want to say that I love you all and feel limitless gratitude
for the grace filled gift of this bloggie family.
Love and hugs,
Rigel
