It wasn't an unusual morning, just ordinary, as I had slipped out of bed before the light had filtered through the blinds. It is cooler now so turning on the gas fireplace gave a comforting glow and warmth. I wrapped my hands round a mug of warm water with lemon slices floating in it. I have been rising, wrapping my robe around me and sitting in the fire glow these past few mornings and waiting, listening, for the whispering of a theme thread to follow in the day. This particular morning I had not found any threads.
At work, the ministry house I work in, I arrived, let myself in, and the silence surrounded me. Those who live there are away for a few days, and with no guests until the weekend, the 8000 square feet seemed almost too much, the silence seemed too big. I fixed myself another cup of warm water and lemon, wrapped my hands round another mug, as if it could warm me and take away the silence that seemed to penetrate my heart. This silence needed to be welcomed and embraced. I wanted to continue searching for the threads of theme in the day. I didn't need company, but I did want to hear the whisper of Ruach in the largeness of the silence in the Victorian house.
The silence gave way to the opening of a phone conversation with a dear friend. Listening to her heartbeat, her passion, the call to community brought me to the place of finding the threads for this day - threads of community. Long after the conversation ended the passion I had heard was lingering in my thoughts. They revolved around community here, now, where we are - what is the community surrounding us that needs our/my participation? The silence had begun to unfold just like one of my favorite piano pieces - Beethoven's Pathetique Sonata. We can reach out to Africa, to New Orleans, Mississippi and those in this heartwrenching tragedy unfolding, but what about the community at the end of our sidewalk, across the street, the corner store down the block? I cannot forget that that is where I am now.
Before long a weaving of the theme of community began to roll out in front of me.
Someone stopped by at the ministry house and asked if she could share her story with me. Threads of her story were revealed, her brokenness, her wrestling, and her courage. What an honour to hear a story that had those haunting yet distinct notes of the Pathetique. What a privilege to hold her tears, and fears, open to the Light of Abba's eyes.
I needed to rush off to do the business banking on my way to the ferry to the city to attend my faith community get together, The Whatever. The teller wore a delightful shade of green, not one her normal colours, and I commented on it. Therein began another story, threads of a story of childhood struggles, poverty and a green bedroom that was so hated - hence it took courage for her to wear that colour. Another stanza in the Pathetique sonata - part of the melody of one in my own community.
In our faith community, hearing the passion of one who wrestles, and was honest and courageous enough to share it, revealed more threads of the call to community right where I am, for my heart to listen and participate in the continuing sonata I live in.
I remained in Vancouver overnight and another friend gave me a bed for the night. We both needed a good brisk walk before the day finished so we headed along some of the busy downtown streets. I watched her passion for her community as she greeted and hugged "Eagle" who was panhandling - her love for people oozes out of her. We were startled when a young man ran out onto the road, yelling and screaming, stumbling - and being ignored by all around. We looked at each other and said "should we help him" but both of us were a little afraid he would be violent. Not long afterwards he was on our side of the street, calmer, crying, and saying "why is everyone so mean". My friend stopped, looked in his eyes, asked his name, and his story, and gave him significance and dignity as she listened. He desperately needed to know he was not invisible on this city street.
I was holding many threads of community, like the strings of a bunch of balloons, that caused me to look up in wonder and awe. A delightful morning conversation was pivotal in my day. As I lay down to sleep I felt like a child with those balloons, amazed that I had been given them to hold today, loving the uniqueness of each one.