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Recognizing the Spirit in daily life.

Life…in the corners

I love to clean the house. Really. I especially like it in weeks like this when I am working but don’t have the time pressure of writing a sermon. I love cleaning the house because it has a beginning and end (despite the fact that housework never really does end, but that’s another subject.) I can immediately see the result of my labors. The tables are dust free. The mirrors shine. The bathrooms glisten. And the floors, ah…the floors. That’s where I really see the difference. The laminate floors are free of dust bunny tufts of cat hair, and the pieces of paper that Jack has shredded throughout the week. No spot gets by me. For only a few hours work there is such satisfaction. Cleaning the house is like a meditation. My mind is clear. The tasks are simple. Nothing complicated here. Except for the corners. Each corner harbors life. Is inhabited by interesting tiny creatures. Little dancing black spiders. Baby daddy long legs. Those slithery silvery bugs.

This moment...

Last GA I was given the great privilege to address folks as part of a panel (of illustrious UUs in whose company I did not belong) about effective social justice work. The gist of my message was this: You are simultaneously the hero of this epic story - the work cannot get done unless *you* act; it’s all up to you - AND you are just a bit-player in this same story - one of many, dependent upon many. Both are simultaneously true.

Mia

This morning I dreamed of Mia, my wife who died in January, 2010. The last time I dreamed of her, I had panicky feelings. My thoughts ran along the lines of: “She came back?; Where had she been?; Wait a minute, I thought she died; What happened?; What did I do wrong?” I felt sort of ill because I screwed up so badly thinking she was dead. I awoke to reality, and the ill feeling that she was gone all over again.
 

This time was different. She came to me and I just hugged her and held her. I was so grateful to see her again. I knew she was gone and just visiting. It felt like a gift. I could tell her how much I loved her and simply enjoy the moments we were together again. This time I remembered that I was in a dream and just went with it. For more than a year I waited to have a dream like this, for her to come back and see me. I must not have been ready, until now, to let her go.

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