Thumbing Through Life...

 

As I thumb through the thoughts of my life, I come to an intersection quite often. The intersection, depending on the mood is, who am I?  It’s always a sense of wonderment.  My husband at times used to call me Job.  Yes, in reference to the Job from the Old Testament Bible. One day years ago, I turned to my husband and replied, “No Honey. I think I’m Jonah, although I do feel as if I were Job at times.”

So, this morning after prepping our oldest daughter’s morning barley grass drink, then mine, as our youngest maneuvered around me in the kitchen, grabbing a quick beverage in between classes… I asked a question for a second time. Yet to our youngest, not our oldest this time, “The fox in our back yard is not going to hurt the little dogs next door. Is it? Your sister said ‘No’ a minute ago. What do you think?”  She replied, “Well it is a fox. Could be a problem.” Then she parted back to class.

My mind wandered and thought about a dream I had the night before. It was about a coach I’d had. Yes, he’s still alive. It was surreal.  It was a good dream. I panned back looking at our coffee machine as I made coffee for our oldest and myself. I stared out the kitchen window and asked outloud to myself, “I guess normal people do this, day in day out. They’ve got time. They don’t see it. They don’t see that their lives appear to me to be in slow motion.  Now I’m in slow motion. Albeit, perhaps temporarily.”

A client had pointed out to me, a number of times in the nearly two decades I knew her. She had stated before her recent passing, dying of old age (something you don’t always get to experience or view.). “Jody, you are very deep. You think so deeply. I don’t know how you do it.” I replied, “You know what the hardest part of my day? You know what it is?” She responded with a wag of her head and a grin, “No. What is it?” I stated, “Every time I go for a run.  That is the hardest thing I do every day. Because I have to face me, the reality I’m in. The realities of the world, and the imperfections of humanity…” I never told her it was painful, but I can say it is. And it runs deep.

So, this morning as I nearly, uncharacteristically went back up to my bedroom to finish my morning stretches and making my bed. As I did, I pondered why. I asked out loud to God, “Why?”  I paused. “Why aren’t people, leaders held accountable for the deaths they cause in our supposed free world? They need to pay. Please make it happen, this time around. It’s way over 400,000 God.” Yep, that was my prayer. And I added, “Sorry, I’m judging. But this has gone too far.” I thought, ‘People do die.  Yes, they cause some of their own demise. But this time, it is who added to it because of their recklessness.’

I then sat up making my bed. I sat on the edge of my bed. I sat and wondered, thought and tried to view the world from God’s eyes. I pondered, ‘What would be my view?’ Funny enough I recalled a quote I saw the other day, and posted online about caring, serving in a sense.  Then shifted to days more than twenty years ago… As a psychologist I did speeches for said, “Jody, you care too much.” I was almost brought to anger by those words. Yet, I responded with near silence to him. “Hmph.” Was my answer.

My thoughts this morning arrived back to the place. Me seated at the edge of my yet made bed. ‘Small things matter. Small servings matter. But dammit! I still feel like Jonah.’ Why? It is the message I’ve delivered, worked on delivering, hoped to deliver. Hoping I was serving. It didn’t matter who received it. It was that it was violated. It was castrated. It was ignored. All the intentions were there, but it didn’t really seem to matter. 

Then I succumbed to the mind-numbing reminder, I write. I’ve nearly always written every year of my life. Every day I have stories, sometimes racing, sometimes rolling around in my head. I can’t even get them down on paper. Its’ nothing new. It has always been this way.

Epiphanies are the first things I write down. Then I take it from there. Because those thoughts came without thought. So, I know someone needs to hear them or read them. Its’ because I know they are not originated from me.  And that has been my service, aside from anything else I do or have done and won’t speak of. Because most service is private.---Jody-Lynn Reicher