Daily Dose (October 20 – 23)

TUESDAY OCTOBER 20 —

What does it mean for us to embrace the invitation to participate—and invest—in this life. To bring all that I am to the table of this moment—the sacrament of the present.
To invest my heart.
To be a witness for integrity and justice.
To create space for healing and restitution.
To spill light where I can.

And a memory comes back to me, with a story from some years ago.
On Thursday I waited in a Seattle DMV to renew my driver’s license. We are always quick to grumble that we don’t have any free time. Well, stop by the DMV. You’ll be amazed how much “free time” you’ll be granted. I held ticket number R141 (R120 had just been summoned), and a good book kept me company.
My number is finally called. I stood at the counter.
“Read line two,” the clerk tells me.
“AODFPO,” I tell her, guessing about two of them.
“Good,” she says. And then; “The shootings this week, they were something weren’t they?”
I look up and realize she’s talking to me. Or maybe, like any of us when we are thunderstruck, we are just trying to find words. Or maybe, we just need someone to hear the words that we have.
“Yes,” I tell her. “They were something.”
“How do you know?” She goes on. “I mean, I could just come to work one day. And then craziness. So how do you know?”
Her comments could be rhetorical, I tell myself. Or maybe she really does want someone to reassure her.
I look at the woman helping me, early 40s I am guessing. Is she a mother? Spouse? Friend? I wonder.
“It’s easy to be afraid,” she tells me.
“Yes,” I say. “It is easy.”
“So what can we do? What can we do?”
I was going to say, “I don’t know,” because the truth is, I don’t know.

Except this. I know that on this ordinary day, when our world has been shaken and we know that chaos can be real, we do have this: A meeting place. On common ground. And I would say, on holy ground.
And while we know that we can never be perfectly safe, we know that even there we can reassure one another, and look into the eyes of one another, and remind one another that there are truths greater than fear—and that we are walking one anther home.
What I told her was this, “Well, I don’t know all the answers, but these kinds of conversation sure do help. Thank you for talking to me. Maybe it would be good for you to talk with your co-workers too. We’re better together.”
In my mind is Mother Teresa’s reminder, “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.”
Hope. And courage. And light. Our journey to healing and wholeness does not begin with bravado. It begins with vulnerability. It begins when we know that our hearts can, and will break, and that it is in the very breaking…
that we can get up…
that we can try again…
that we can choose love instead of fear and hate…

I walked out of the office into a gray December day with a new driver’s license. And something else; an unexpected gift in my spirit. That on an ordinary day with two strangers, the light of restoration and resilience spills one conversation and one encounter at a time. Before I started my car, I sat. And said thank you to no one in particular. I realized that a stranger gave me a gift with her vulnerability. I know that whenever anything unnerving happens, we want to hide our brokenness and our vulnerability. Because we live in a world of bravado, and swagger.
Which takes me back to sanctuary. You see, the power of the sanctuary—the power of peace and nourishment and renewal—allows for, and creates the space for, wholeheartedness. Which begins with vulnerability. Whenever I am burdened with worry or disquiet or angst or fear, I am tempted to shut down my heart, to not listen to my heart, to not speak from my heart, and to not offer sanctuary to those who need it.
Henry David Thoreau talked about not wishing to live “too thickly”—barraged by noise or clamor or hype or panic.
Yes. I wish that too.
This week every one of us will walk, journey, show up for work, attend gatherings, “stand in line in the DMV”, in precarious times. That is undeniable. And to pretend otherwise is silly.
So. Here’s the deal: Today, I do not wish for my heart to be calcified.
I do not wish it, because when I give in to fear, I choose and act from cynicism and anger and resentment.
Onward together, my friends.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 21 — ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Prayer (poem) for our week…
“May today there be peace within.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received,
and pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing you are a child of God.
Let this presence settle into your bones,
and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.
It is there for each and every one of us.”
St. Therese of Lisieux (“the Little Flower”)

​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​Photo… “Dear Terry, Beautiful sky light… Cincinnati, Ohio.” Faith Lang… Thank you Faith… And thank you all for your photos, please send them to tdh@terryhershey.com

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I am so very grateful.

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