Have you ever been late for an appointment, and on the way there, you missed every single traffic light, and then got stuck behind a car driving ten miles an hour under the speed limit, because…well, I don’t know why. All this happened to me this morning. I actually would have made it to my appointment just in time, but as I was finally getting to go through a green light, a police car stopped in the intersection and halted all the traffic. Then another police car drove up as the first one drove away; as this happened about five or six times, it was apparent that a very large funeral procession was in progress. How tragic that it was just a few days before Christmas.
I felt so sad for the family and friends who were going through this; partly because I’m grieving the loss of my husband a bit more heavily this year, and partly because Christmas is so close. As I was waiting for the procession to pass, the song “The First Noel” was playing on the radio. The words “and so it continued both day and night” caught my ear. The song was referring to the light from the star of Bethlehem, but in my mood, my thoughts went immediately to how the sadness from grief seems to continue both day and night.
This is the first writing I have done in many weeks. No, I haven’t been too busy. No, I haven’t been focusing on more pressing matters. The fact is, I, like everyone else, have become discouraged. My confidence in writing certainly has not continued both day and night. Confidence is one of those things that needs a little affirmation and acknowledgement now and then, but right now, it seems it’s every man for himself. I refuse to vent by endlessly berating, moaning, and groaning about the state of humanity; that’s a party that I don’t want to attend. But I also can’t pretend that everything is great, happy, and problem-free, so it’s easier to stay silent. Maybe not the best response, but definitely the easiest – and the funeral procession was an appropriate punctuation to what seemed like an inevitable silence.
What to do, what to do? Staying silent and doing nothing may not be the best way to go, and it’s not the same thing as being still. So, here’s what we, or what I, can do: Listen…but not to myself. Listen to what is in the background. It’s usually the important stuff. I always focus on what I see on the outside, but I have to be aware of what I hear on the inside. Hope is silent, but pervasive; it doesn’t scream to be heard, but I dohave to listen for it. Then I have to be still and listen for peace. Peace is not winning the argument or getting my own way; it’s settling in my heart what I know to be true.
So, what about the confidence? What about the discouragement? The confidence will re-emerge when the peace soaks in. However, the discouragement is a tough one, especially when we base our ability and progress on the affirmation of others. I guess I need to re-examine what I base my inspiration on. My husband was a major source of affirmation and encouragement for me. But now that he’s not here, being alone should not change who I am. Shouldn’t it reveal who I am? I got married at twenty-one years old, and my husband didn’t change me; we grew together for over forty-two years. I am still growing and changing, and just because I don’t get affirmation from him anymore doesn’t mean I stop. When a tree loses a branch, it still grows and produces fruit.
So, what does continue both day and night? Hope continues both day and night. God’s peace continues both day and night. Most of all, despite my mistakes, my flaws, my shortcomings, even my best efforts that are never quite good enough, God’s love continues both day and night. In our affirming times, in our periods of discouragement, to the people experiencing the funeral close to Christmas, God’s love continues.
Dance on (both day and night)
Grace Notes 