"If I knew all the words, I would write myself out of here." MRAZ

Friday, February 13, 2009

quiet visions

My post-midnight porch is one of my favorite places to be.
Today, I've given; I've shared.
I talked; I sang: and I've listened and responded.
There's been music and noise: the incessant list of things to do.

But now, I am on the porch.
Listening to the night air.
Watching the dark sky, and the twinkling stars.

Tonight, things are more quiet than usual- the frogs are still croaking, but they seem subdued. Their week-long carnival seems at an end. I can still hear the highway that is close to my neighborhood; but the sounds don't travel so well tonight. Like, the night knows I need a little more peace than usual.

And my mind wanders to other quiet moments, and savors the visions:

I am 16.
It is near 6am.
The air early-morning-clear.
The color is yellow-pink, gray.
We've come together to share in this tryst; an unlikely band of early-day starters, who sacrifice sleep to enjoy this moment. If we talk, it is hushed. It is an amazing moment. I follow the concrete path down to the shore. It is unlike any shore I've ever walked on: not so much sand, more pebbles and tiny shells. The most perfect spiral shells I've ever seen littered all around. The water is slate gray; placid. It is a mirror of the open sky above me: beautiful early morning clouds that will be blown away as the air of day shifts and changes. I step into the surf. It is so cold. The exact cold of crisp; the cold of a new day. I shiver and react, but continue forward. I embrace the cold. I know the cold will become warm, and I will forget it. I will be lost in the beauty that I am apart of; and I will find strength in that beauty to face the day. I am swimming in the Sea of Galilee. I reside at Kibbutz Ma'agan. I realize where I am and I am amazed. That feeling, that beauty stays with me all day.


The meal has been served and devoured.
The campfire lit: songs sung and devotions proclaimed.
Ideas, love, forgiveness, amazement: shared by all.
It is time for sleep now.
I don't choose the safety of the tent. Instead, I lay my blanket out under the pitch-black sky. Only, it isn't pitch-black when you really look. There are an innumerable amount of stars shining, twinkling. And when you really look, there are so many it hurts to look. It hurts to know that I will never see this many ever again. It hurts to know they will be there, but I won't see them. I hear the sounds of sleep: only deep breaths in and out. Even the camels are quiet for this moment. I am not one who is able to sleep when this much beauty exists; when I've missed this much beauty my entire life until now. The sky is literally a dark blanket that has been scattered with diamonds. So many, there are just so could I have missed them? I want to stay here, at this Bedouin tent for the rest of my life. I want this night, July 3rd 1997, to last forever. So that I can just lay here. Lay here in the middle of the dessert and look up. Up into the fathomless sky, and realize that God has loved me, will love me more times than there are stars.


It is night.
I am in a gazebo; in a graveyard.
I've just offered myself to him; and he has rejected me.
I don't know what to say. I am so hurt- there is nothing to say. He feels the weight of his words, and can't say anything else to relieve the pressure. My mind is filled with questions; but I don't speak them, I can't speak them. There is nothing else to do: I get up and walk away.


I sit at the table eating bread with honey; and tea with cream.
It is so early, it's dark. I move with sleepy still hanging to every inch of my body. I want to go back to bed. But I know where this day will lead and I am, despite my heavy lids, excited about the destination. Today, I will walk where those druids were. Today, I will see massive stone pillars arranged just so. Today, I will touch rock that has been patiently waiting on the Salisbury Plain for me to come. It will be amazing. I will love it. I meditate on the moment and smile.


The festivities are done.
The rehearsal was a success.
The late-night chats with the girls are over.
I am in my room sharing the bed with one of my best friends; my maid of honor. Tomorrow I marry. Okay, later this morning, I marry. Everything is still. In this moment, I feel the gravity, the weight of responsibility. I stand on the precipice of a life-changing moment. There are only two options: turn and walk away OR jump. The first idea isn't an option. I run through the day ahead: prepare, walk carefully, talk slowly, love fiercely, kiss thoroughly, and smile. And know that I have committed my life to someone; committed to live my life with someone. I will begin a new family unit. This decision will affect eternity. It is awe-ful.


I lay in bed.
There are soft lights and the whirs of machines. I am suppose to be sleeping, but I am at another major moment in life. There is another life within me awaiting his arrival moment. My husband sleeps in a cot beside me. I listen to the sound of nothing; and know that very soon, it will be filled with the sound, the voice of my son. His arrival is too soon: this timing wasn't my plan. His arrival is too late: and that is why I am here, in the hospital, on medication to help things along. I worry, and try to trust God. I evaluate myself, wondering whether I am ready for such an awesome task: raising a new generation of me and him put together. I wonder if that moment of passion can ever make amends for the outcome. I face my failures and ask for pre-forgiveness for a future that is sure to be scarred with mistakes. The anticipation is sickening and intoxicating. Will I be enough? Will I trust God enough?


I stand on the porch.
It is 12:30am.
My men- the big one and the little one- are asleep.
And I have this blessed moment to myself.
No giving, no sharing, no talking, no music.
Just the night sounds to soothe my weariness.
I look up and see the stars, my familiar bright lights.
I see the beauty and store it away for my reserves for battle: the next day.
I smell the cold air and wonder if it will revive me to peaceful sleep...
I move forward despite rejection and accept awe-ful, awe-inspiring moments.
I ask forgiveness as I know that I am not enough; and ask God that he will make me enough; and ask forgiveness because I am too tired to mean it: in this quiet moment.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

i am glad you shared; inspiring to me.