June 13, 2023

Late in the day the rains came, along with fresh breezes. How good it was to sleep snuggled under a quilt, windows open, the curtains gently fluttering, and the sound of the chimes playing a newly composed melody.

I woke several times during the night, not unusual for this elder, and each time I heard the light sprinkle of the chimes–less an intrusion and more of an invitation to hold lightly the thoughts of the day and the hopes for the ones to come.

The previous days had been dominated by my husband’s garage sale of the discarded furniture he had transformed with paint, stencils, and transfers. As I have mentioned before in this blog, all the proceeds go to support Rezek House for youth experiencing homelessness. Not only did he receive high compliments for his creative skills, but many who stopped by were interested to learn about the work Lutheran Social Services does for youth. And, of course, the sale meant he is able to hand over a nice chunk of cash!

The garage sale is his thing, not mine, and I thought about how easy and outgoing he is with all those who stop by. He is always pleasant no matter how often he hears someone say, “I don’t need a thing.” My inclination would be to say, “Then why are you spending your time going to garage sales?” He reminds me that garage sales are social events, and he enjoys chatting and hearing people’s stories. I just want to leave the lunch I fixed for him and return to the garret.

Instead of being too hard on myself, which would have led to much tossing and turning, I reminded myself that I am an introvert. I know when and how to use the skills of extroversion, but I am always aware of the rhythm that works best for me. I am definitely not a hermit. I am grateful for the friendships in my life, for my beloved community, and all the other ways of connecting with others, but over the years I have learned when it is time for me to retreat.

As the chimes continued to sing in the branches, I recalled words in one of Glenn Mitchell’s daily “Prayer Notes.” He said writing has been “a way to extrovert my introversion.” Yes, that’s it. That’s what I do. Writing, as a spiritual practice, is a form of communion, not only with God, but with others. I took a deep breath and fell asleep.

The next time I woke, the breezes still lifting the chimes, I felt more awake and decided to move into the living room and read for awhile. I put on my robe, enjoying the coolness, and sat in the dark for a moment before turning on a reading light. Ah, the silence, the emptiness of the hour. I’ve learned I am unable to force myself to fall back asleep, and besides, the unplanned extra reading time is never a waste, especially when the book is so delightful. (Stay tuned–the Thursday Book Report will reveal the title and author.)

The next time I woke I heard a siren in the distance, along with the backyard chimes. I whispered, “May all be well,” and also sighed in gratitude for all those who respond to emergencies. I lifted each name on my prayer list–the chimes tolling for healing and hope and love and compassion for each one.

And finally, in the morning the chimes accompanied my waking and moving into the day. Even now I hear them. Companions as I open myself to the possibilities, the gifts of this day.

Perhaps tomorrow the air will be still, and the chimes will need to wait patiently for another time to be an active presence. In the meantime, I will do my best to stay awake to the other ways to know and feel the Presence.

The breezes at dawn have secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep.

Jalaluddin Rumi

An Invitation

In what ways have you experienced Presence recently? I would love to know.