The house is full of guests this morning, both human and canine. Boots and bottles litter the floors. The air inside carries the essence of unwashed traveler. It is a scent I have come to know well. Though familiarity has increased my tolerance, the smell has not lost its' offense. To be alone this morning, I must be banished from the building to have my morning coffee and quiet outside.
I'm sitting on a brown plastic pressure molded chair on the front step of my house. The air on the breeze is cool. A light mist of rain is falling. The cloud filled sky is dark and grey. My nose is stuffy. Somewhere close there are birds singing. Further away they are squawking and cawing. Even further away they chirp. Everywhere is the dull background whooshes of traffic. I sit with a breakfast of fresh fruit, a hot coffee on one side of me, and my big, black, leather-bound Bible on the other.
The morning is dark. It is grey. It is cold and wet. The breeze is cutting through my hoodie and acquainting my neck, shoulders, and arms with its' unseasonable icy presence. My stopped nose somehow banishes my head from the rest of me, blunting my ability to sense clearly, commanding my brain to observe silently through its' eye windows. But this gloomy scene does not capture the freedom I feel in this moment.
I am alone, but I am not alone. Even as I step lightly around my own house to avoid the bodies and their rubbish that have joined my space, I do not feel invaded or put out. It is a joy to be surrounded by fellow humans who are living fully and being human. Our paths will cross only briefly, but I believe that all of us are enriched to know each other. It is a gift, this shared life. Instruments and backpacks tell stories of their travels and their songs and their camaraderie. I'm grateful that Kate found them and invited them to share with us for now. I wish they could stay longer. Their travels and loud voices and dirty clothes remind me that God is bigger than my family, my home, my church. I hope to send some of the Spirit of God with them. I hope that through them, our awareness of God's presence in our home will be enriched.
It is in life together that we are enriched. To live life with other humans so closely as to touch and smell and feel each other's uniqueness. To serve the Imago Dei in fellow travelers. To share the mark of the divine and recognize the heart and hands of our Saviour in strangers. Is there any gift more beautiful in this temporary existence?
To have to seek my own solitude this morning is not a burden. It is a treasure. It is these moments of my life that I have always felt most free, when community and humanity around me does not allow me to firmly know what might happen next, or when I might certainly have space to create my life exactly in my own image.
A memory. At a mountain camp I find myself sitting by a lake at sunrise. I hear loons sing in low voices and watch them play on the water. The air is cold, and my nose is stopped, just as it is this morning. Another watcher sits only 100 metres away. This is the furthest I will be from another human being all day. And I am happy.
Even the weather has its' comforts for me. Bright sun and dry air have never been the most pleasant for my nature. My happiest home was the beginning of my life, on the west coast. My family was not yet broken. I was secure. As a child I did not judge the quality of the day by the sun or rain or temperature. Trees were lush and animals of all kinds flourished. Cool air and rain were just part of my life and I seized every moment of it.
Wide sunny skies only became part of my normal experience when I was taken from my familiar bright green lush life to the dusty browns and yellows of Southern Alberta. My rainy city was traded for a windy little town. The bright diversity I'd always known was traded for a dull sameness. Everything was muted for me. Even the people had less colour and verve. There were fewer questions. There were too many answers. There was too much space. I missed the uncertainty and danger of the dark, grey, wet city.
So give me colourful people and real stories and adventures over space and privacy and a controlled life. Give me a cold bright crisp morning over a computer desk or an entertainment system surrounding my easy chair. Give me the adventure of an inconvenient life shared over the sameness and predictability offered by a convenient psuedo suburban gates-and-fences existence. Give me grey clouds and rain and and green trees and singing birds over a bright wide sky baking the life from the ground and the mind. Give me mountains or give me buildings that pierce the sky. I don't care to see blue heaven on every side of me. My time on earth is short. I can see heaven later. Let me see the beautiful natural creations of God in nature and humanity. Let me see beautiful humanity in culture and diversity now while I am able.
Give me heaven on earth.
Give me this cold, wet, inconvenient morning.
Give me the scent of unwashed traveler.
Give me my second coffee.
Good morning, God.
Ah, the longing of a surrounded life; there is nothing like it.
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