Poem after hearing Psalm 68:6

"Again," I want to say to you.
Say that again.
Let your mouth pour out those sweet words on me again.
But let them fall on me with the force of a bullet or a hurricane,
So that they can cut deep grooves into my stone of a heart.
Let those words etch themselves in me
Until I am no longer just a rock,
But a monument, a memorial.
In short, say them over and over
Until I believe them,
Until they become the truth of my life.

Melting

I had big plans for sleeping in this morning- my first in about 10 days that I would have mostly to myself. But alas- nature intervened.

I went to bed early enough (a few minutes before 10pm), but was awakened around 3:45 by a horrific thunderstorm. It blew in with terrific winds (gusts to 65 mph they said) and spectacular lightning. There were a number of lightning strikes- they hit the ground with terrific booms, sending my already nervous cat flying off the bed to hide under it. Poor thing- he's already losing his hair- does he really need more anxiety?

I tried desperately to fall back asleep, and drifted in and out until 7am, when the already hot temperatures got me out of bed. I tried to do a little housecleaning, but gave it up when simply loading the dishwasher and picking up the dirty laundry and putting it into the basket had me sweating copiously. It was, by this time, about 8000 degrees outside.

So, I betook myself to one of those excellent facilities that caters to people like me who have no a/c at home. In these facilities, for about $3.50 an hour, they will rent you a comfy semi-reclining chair in a dark room the temperature of an industrial walk-in refrigerator for your cooling pleasure. Not only that, but they show you a movie for free!

Today they were showing a charming film called Becoming Jane, about the early adult life of Jane Austen. And since I love her novels and people in pretty clothes speaking in British accents, this suited me just fine. I could go into more detail, but it's too hot to type much more. I'll only say that if you like a) Jane Austen, b) period movies, c) movies that manage to be romantic without being sticky-sweet and shallow or d) airconditioning, then you should find a refrigerated recliner rental room somewhere near you that has this movie.

Escape

Growing up, my dad used to say, "Leave time to get lost." Anytime we were getting in the car to go somewhere new or unfamiliar, he'd press us to get loaded up early, so that if we took a wrong turn or run into traffic we could still make it to our destination on time. This used to drive me crazy: you'd hustle up, get in the car, and then there would be no unforeseen events. We'd end up sitting in the airport for an extra hour or more, twiddling our thumbs.

But when I started driving, I realized exactly what Dad was talking about. I'd inherited his need to always be on time or early to everything, and had learned that when driving somewhere new, there would often be things that got in the way: poorly marked street signs, construction zones, traffic snarls.

This has become even more true now that I have lived in 3 major metropolitan areas (New York, Houston, and now Minneapolis-St Paul). This small-town girl still finds driving in the city overwhelming at times; there are more pedestrians, cyclists, and motor vehicles to look out for, plus traffic moves at a faster pace, so you have to make decisions at a quick pace.

I'm still trying to master the art of calculating how much time I'll need to get from Point A to Point. In rural Illinois, 6 miles can be traversed in a matter of minutes. In a city, it can take 30 or more.

Last night, I had an engagement to give an intro to Orthodoxy and its music at a Lutheran church in a suburb 20 miles away. My directions said it would take 30 minutes, but knowing it was rush hour and hearing my dad saying, "Leave time to get lost," I doubled that.

The result was that I drove across a bridge over the Mississippi on interstate 35W at 5:30 instead of 6pm, when it collapsed yesterday. When I heard the news, my mind started reeling with all of the "what ifs". What if I had only left 15 minutes early? (I was very close to doing just that.) What if I hadn't left early at all? What if I had chosen to get on that interstate at a different point? I'd have spent more time in that traffic jam, which might have placed me on or near the bridge at the time of the collapse.

I've not had many near-misses with accidents in my life; I've vague memories of sliding on icy roads, deer appearing out of the fog, and things likfe that. But I know that these types of events have a way of rocking you to the core. My low bank balance, deadlines at work, lack of air conditioning in your apartment, and even my worries that my tongue would slip and I'd say something that horribly misrepresents my faith to a crowd of Lutherans- all that disappeared. Pop! Gone- for a few moments.

There's no way to know why it wasn't me (or any number of other people) on that bridge, or why it reached its breaking point at 6pm and not earlier or later. But what is easily demonstrable is that life is the thinnest of threads. There's a reason why we sing "Let us lay aside all earthly cares..." every Sunday; the cares give us the illusion that the thin thread is really a girder of steel.

However, what's on my mind most this morning is how easily I am back to dwelling on my earthly cares. I had a brief moment where I clearly saw how fragile I am, how desperately I need God, apart from whom there is no life. But that moment passed, and then I was back to worrying if I was going to sing well, if I'd worn the right dress, if my hair had frizzed out.

God willing, with time I will have trained myself to concentrate on that glimpse of truth. Maybe in 10 years I'll be able to see my dependence on God for a whole 60 seconds. And in another 10, for 10 minutes altogether. And maybe by the time I die, I'll be able to cast myself completely on the Lord's mercy for an entire afternoon.