The first light of morning seeps past my drapes, taps me right between the eyes, and I sigh. Soft, humid air cool with rain greets my skin past an open window where the earth has scenting the air with a pine and mossy cologne. Jays, grosbeaks, cowbirds and red-winged blackbirds call and chirp incessant songs from bird feeders packed with delectableness, eyeing red squirrels intent on joining them for breakfast. The winds have settled yet the sky still hangs low and spatters. Morning has broken.
At first, everything seems so well, so idyllic. Day yet breaks early and the grasses, flowers, trees and shrubs are still in bloom, showy and swelling with life in early Autumn as we stroll with tea in hand to breathe in whatever moments we can before the hubbub of life begins once again. Boil the water, make the toast, crack the eggs, blend a shake, pet the dog, hug and hello’s. Let one hand follow the next and each well-versed task is a comforting monotony understood only those who love routine and find change as distasteful as a confrontation. And so it is with I.
It seems that I multitask through every moment. Life is, in fact, an act of love and care in constant motion. And each day we wake on this earth is a life-long exercise at keeping the entropy of chaos to a manageable state. Sometimes, I feel like all of life sits just below the horizon and the sand of time is always, ever-trickling downward on us all. The unfaltering sift of tiny, tiny bits of crushed rock crystal that threatens to bury everything in this world; slowly, insidiously trying to make all of life into a sandy desert unless we keep up the ever-task of removing it, bucket by bucketful, every moment of every day until we die.
And then right when you have a routine, the hiccup happens. Just like the hand that moves too quickly and knocks the fresh ground coffee all over the floor that initiates the OCD attempt to clean it then and there while still making the dog’s breakfast, cracking eggs, battling smoothies in the blender, answering the phone, yelling something to someone-or-other, dryer on, switching off lights again and again and all the while grinding teeth in time to the noise of kids and dogs and doors and stomping because someone has gosh-darn-gone-done-did it again. Everything feels like a failed attempt at normalcy, life is a cosmic joke and all of a sudden, the chaotic hilarity of Mr. Bean’s life actually makes sense. We all know it, and we all hate it.
After all, life should not be mercurial, it should be more mellifluous — meaning less unpredictable and more of smooth, rich flow. I’m not actually talking about coffee, here. It’s about being okay with those hiccups that happen, taking time to let go. Try it, mellifluously hold off on a task to make room for a moment that is kind. Look someone in the eye for that full minute while they talk and not interrupt. Stop multitasking and live in a moment of gratitude. Most of us – when our lives are too ‘breathless’ – do want to live life with that smooth, rich flow. To wake at first-light with a sigh and a stretch and calm thankfulness and not noticeable blood pressure.
At the end of the day, I think God likes gratitude a lot. Gratitude and kindness. Because when we live thankful and justly, loving kindness and walking humbly alongside our Creator, we live with purpose.
So, when chaos hits my psyche like an ‘F’ word, may it be that word is Forgive, Friendship, Favour and Fortitude. And Faith that runs deep and reaches Further, Farther and Faster than chaos can sift sand over my life. That I might live mellifluously so that when morning’s light awakes me, I feel that smooth, rich flow of fresh hope clear my mind, cleanse my thoughts and bring calm and I can say again, life is good!