Today
I laughed until my abs ached with a coworker over silly emails. I wrote texts in iambic pentameter at the bus stop for the fun of it. A baby leaned on my chest like I was the safest place in the world, and another stretched her arms up to me to be held like I could bear her to the moon itself. A book about emotions during Holy Week written for toddlers moved me so much I read it twice. I walked briskly, squinting into warm sunshine, the brightest in days. I saw Jesus more clearly in the character of Moses by reading Acts 7 as if for the first time, I empathized with Paul as I reflected on this murderer going before his old enemies to declare his new allegiance, the shame, the fear. I marveled that Stephen saw Jesus standing at the right hand of God, a Chekhov’s gun I recalled in my class this evening, which, by the way, was the best I’ve been to so far. I realized it’s all about the long slow work of building a community. All of it. This is the work of God Himself. And we image Him in a thousand little ways, with our singing and storytelling and desire to create beautiful, uncorrupted things. Tears pricked my eyes as I realized this. I cooked myself a delicious dinner from scratch while singing Sondheim with my roommate, and put away leftovers for tomorrow. I ate peanut M&Ms and pineapple upside down cake, and felt food freedom and joy in my body. This body can hold two hefty babies at once. This body can sprint to the bus stop and jog up the escalator. This body can do a silly little dance in the kitchen and slide on the tile in socks. I felt seen in my botticelli shirt, known as people recognized that not once but twice I’ve worn artwork. I gave Abby a big hug. I spoke of church without shame in my class, though my heart raced before. I puzzled over the poem mine own John poynz on the metro, missed my stop, and had to backtrack. I read Dracula and chuckled at how girlhood hasn’t changed in 100 or 1000 years. Humans have always laughed and cried and shared salacious stories with their friends. I fretted over what to wear to the movies tomorrow night to see my friends all together. I felt useful and accomplished today. I felt so, so human today. I nearly cried euphoric tears while washing dishes. What greater joy could there be than to be alive on a Wednesday? What greater hope could there be than a realer, truer, freer life to come?
There is no poem that I could write to say
In better terms than this plain journaling
The wonders of existing in the world
Embodied, in community, and free.
I’m weak and I’m decaying, sure, that’s true
But I will never be this young again
And never have more clarity of thought
Or lightness in my heart than I do now.
Great God, what gift you’ve given me to see
That greatness isn’t some ambitious goal
Or changing the whole world, just baby steps,
and loving others through the little things.
Miss Lois told me that and she was right.
Amen and glory hallelujah, Lord!