A Tall Ladder
Seems lately there are so many disturbing events — you name it, suicide bombings, politicians shot at point blank range, war, hunger, global warming, potential nuclear annihilation conveniently scheduled for the 4th of July weekend — it would give even the most optimistic of us pause. It surely keeps the faithful of us not far from prayer, heads bowed, hands nervously pressed together.
I've lost track lately whether my occasional free-falls into sadness are due to specific recent events worthy of grief and mourning (i.e., my dad's death over a month ago now), or if there is a larger languishing despair we are all grappling with in these extremely uncertain times. Some mornings I feel I am struggling to get out from under a heavy wet felt blanket of hopelessness. And I tend to be a fairly upbeat and optimistic person! I fear for those with darker tendencies.
I wish I had a tall ladder I could climb and sit on top to see the big picture. If I had some perspective to know it's 1774 or 1861 or 1933 or some other hard time. Times that tried men and women's souls, but times they could recall and recount and gain strength from. Our times make you wonder if we're spiraling down into the end of time.
So today, I bless the mundane that gets me back into the flow of life — children must eat! And they must eat hot sticky orange macaroni and cheese. And my son choses to eat a giant bowl of the stuff with a 1/8 teaspoon measuring spoon, a tiny shovel to make the task a compelling challenge. And to watch him makes me laugh. And so, we continue on.