I sat down for a very frank conversation with God last night. Initially when I called the meeting, I was frustrated. Alone and upset, I could not understand why certain things were happening in my life, why certain gifts or people were brought into my life unsolicited and then removed as quickly as quietly as they came. I was angry, because I can do a lot of things but fleeting–the flow of things in and out–is something I have a hard time with. So then when I sat down I got it. And I said, instead:
Thank you for that is which to come, and if it comes and it goes, thank you in advance for the time I was allowed with the nouns–people, places and things–you designed just for me.
I am not entirely sure I meant it when I wrote it down in my gratitude journal to record the thanks, but as I flipped it open this morning, reading the words in fresh sunlight they gave me life. Thank you for the time I get to spend…thank you, really, for the presence yet to come. I was not even aware that what I was showing gratitude for was “Right Now”.
What is perhaps most interesting is that in the right now that was last night, I was repeating what was. I was telling myself a story about something that was over and done with and assigning meaning to it in a context that did not birth the moment. Why should I be woeful that it’s over and why is it the pain of loss is more preferable to remember, recall and replay than the joy of the moments when it Was? Nothing lasts forever. Not pain, and not joy. It is all fleeting, so what does it mean when I can’t do the thing that is really the crux of life?
It was a lesson. One I got in a really big way. My job, my task for right now is the do the thing I know brings innovation and creation–let go and let come. And if it took one more sad night to understand exactly what my test is right now, the it took one more sad night. I’m grateful for that, too. When I shake my fist at heaven and ask, “WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO BE LEARNING FROM THIS?” I expect an answer, and like always. There it is.