Sunday, January 19, 2014

Code Blue

We're having no luck with fish.  What am I doing wrong?  G got two for Christmas; they were dead before the end of the day.  The two that replaced them were dead by the end of the week.  So we consulted the pet store, who informed us that goldfish are basically feeder fish and not expected to live long.  The sales clerk recommended a Betta fish instead, so we got one.  Dead in 24 hours.  Sigh!

I was afraid that G would get a complex; K is really good with animals and even wild ones seem to gravitate to her.  So when we got this one, I told her that it was mine, not hers.  My plan is to give it to her if it lasts a week.  So far so good - almost 24 hours and "Code Blue" is still alive.  Quite gorgeous, too.

We had a delightful afternoon en route to the fish.  K decided that we should look for baseball cleats and since Charles had the car, that meant a long walk.  They were both up for it; who was I to object?  We ended up with several errands done and three hours of slow conversation as we walked together.  Nothing special, really, but in my estimation, it is the delight of the ordinary that best represents what is best in life.


Last week in mass we suffered through another really horrible homily.  I'm used to mediocrity and usually expect it unless I am at a Dominican parish.  But at our current parish, the homilies almost always lack any enthusiasm whatsoever.

Still, as I was listening to it, or trying to, it occurred to me that the lack of inspiration I was receiving from this one source creates space for other, different, unexpected hope.  I began to meditate on the space created by the gap between my expectations and the homilist's abilities and felt myself immediately filled with joy.  What an unexpected gift, this reminder that we can choose to open ourselves to joy, hope, and inspiration at any time, that the power to be inspired, to know our strengths, to feel our charisms at work for good in the world is readily accessible and separate from distractions, irritations, and human weaknesses.  I felt both happiness and excited hope at this reminder and have continued to reflect on these possibilities.

This day, walking together to do routine errands, similarly created space for us to enjoy each other's company in the midst of the mundane.  A parent once told me, "for kids, love is a four lettered word spelled T-I-M-E."  The wisdom of that observation is reflected in the grace that emerges in such space.  My intent now is to be more intentional about creating even more of that through choices about both activities and perspective.

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