Presence

Rain Keeps Falling

January 11, 2017

Today, it is still raining. As a native Californian, I have taken a vow to never complain about rain. I love this state, where drought abounds. I have lived other places: Nevada, Utah, Ohio, but have always returned here. Drawn back somehow. I know that we need this rain.  It is really soggy out, though. Several big branches went down in the backyard. I had time to drag half of them to the burn pile before it started raining again.

The fire is roaring. The rice is cooking. We will eat it soon with Costco’s famous rotisserie chicken. My daughter works on her homework next to me. My son reads the Sunday comics. The dog sleeps on the sofa. The cat says he wants to go out. We annoy him by telling him that it is cold, dark, and wet out there and not a good time for outside play. He reminds us that he should be the judge of this, thank you very much. He is a hefty Maine Coon. “Big kitty!” the vet said at his initial visit.  He is difficult to ignore. Still, inside he stays.

Today was a day for dropping my Mom off at the airport.  She had a tree come down in the storm yesterday, a big oak in the front yard. Thankfully, it fell sideways, away from the house, just grazing the gutters. A different angle would have put it right on top of her.  My Mom has been in that house for 47 years. I grew up with that tree.  I am heartbroken that it is gone.  She had to go to Washington for her little brother’s memorial service. He passed away in his barn from a heart attack on Christmas Eve.

I hate that people I love grow old and die. I hate that trees that I love grow old and die. I hate that climate change is influencing the weather. I hate that one of my wise friends had to sit through a tirade from her sons’ orthodontist the other day about how global warming is a hoax and that the Sierra Club is evil (note to self: renew your Sierra Club membership. Really. This is important). It’s not bad enough to spend $10,000 for braces, I guess. You have to listen to the ranting of the unhinged orthodontist, too. She is good at thinking quickly, though, and has better boundaries than me. Meaning, she just didn’t sit politely and listen and smile as I would tend to do. She said, “You know, I really hope you’re right. I hope that all this is nothing to be worried about. I guess I’m just not that optimistic.”  I am blessed with brilliant friends, no?

Today, God was in the fire and the cooking food. God was in the rain. God was in my phone call with my friend. God was in the drive to the airport with my Mom, who kissed me as she grabbed her roller suitcase at the curb and said, “What can you do? Life goes on.” God was even in the fat cat, who I love, even though he tests my patience with his constant desire to go out. And come in. Go out. Come in.

Security

Runaway Car

January 6, 2017

Today at CVS, I saw two men rush to stop a car from rolling backwards through the parking lot.  Luckily, it was a little car. Especially lucky for one of the pushers, who noticed that the car was headed straight for his truck. The men maneuvered the little car back to its space, and one wedged an empty automobile oil container behind the back tire so the car wouldn’t escape again. Just to be safe, the man with the truck moved it to another space, one that was uphill from the car.

I watched this, told the men I was grateful they were there (though not as grateful as the man with the truck, he told me), and continued into the store to do my shopping. On my way out,  I noticed that the little car was gone. The oil canister that saved it was abandoned in the parking lot.

I wonder if that car’s driver realized how close he (she?) came to disaster this morning.  They probably just forgot to put the car in gear, neglected to set the emergency brake. Maybe they were distracted by a fussy baby, or an upsetting text message, or the morning news. Maybe they were just running into the nearby organic bakery, grabbing a green smoothie or muffin while the drama unfolded outside.  Returning to their car, they put it into reverse and headed on their way.  Backing over an oil container on their way out was just a strange annoyance, hardly worth a second thought. They never knew how lucky they were.

I know that I am like this driver in many ways. I too miss miracles everyday because I am not looking for them.  Every time I get in the car.  Drive on a highway. Walk the dog. Send my children to school.  Lay down in my bed at the end of the day.  Wake up in the morning, my eyes seeing, my heart beating. The fact that all these events go on and on, usually without notice, is miracle in itself.   I don’t think about the people who manufactured my car and made is safe and reliable. Or give thanks for the drivers who let me merge onto the freeway, or the teachers who love and protect my kids, or the neighbors in our town who make it a blessed place to live.

There are no guarantees that any of these events will end well. So often, so often, they do.  It is the song of life that it all flows along. Soon, I will close up this computer, get back in my car, stop to buy milk, pick up the kids.  Ordinary day.  Sometimes, it takes coming across a runaway car in a parking lot to remind me that it’s not so ordinary after all.