I felt bored, though I had lots to do. I was cranky, and I
wasn’t sure why. Something, I knew not what, was calling me into the world, I
knew not where. I rose from my sofa, prepared myself, and headed out. I drove
for an hour, maybe two in total, considering the roundtrip. I passed the
highway entrance ramp, turned onto side streets instead, and discovered routes
I hadn’t known before. I headed for no place in particular.
A balding and bespectacled man in a sandstone Sonata in the
lane beside mine be-bopped at a red light. I scanned through the stations on my
own stereo searching for what he was listening to. I wanted to feel his joy. I noticed
an arrow-shaped sign on a utility pole advertising “Cheap Massages” at a school
of natural health. I stopped in for one, but was unimpressed. I discovered a
state park situated on the bank of a small river and turned in to sniff the
pines. My drive to nowhere brought me, at last, to a chain bookstore. There, I
spent several hours.
I perused the memoir section and envisioned a layout for my own. I
overheard a senior woman on her cell phone making dinner plans. I observed a
young mother teaching her children to respect one another. “Don’t grab the bag of chips from
her like that. Ask her if you can have one, and I’m sure she will share,” she told
her son. “If you need help carrying those books, just ask your big brother if
he’ll take some,” to her little daughter. I wrote in the lined tablet I consistently
carry with me. I contemplated what my next career move should be. I prayed for
guidance. I kept dry from the sudden rainstorm. I almost hugged the vinyl
record display. I felt hungry and headed for the in-house café.
The ham and Gouda looked appetizing, but I was concerned
about the freshness of the bread that sandwiched them. “Our bread is delivered
daily,” the vendor assured me. Hmmm, mine
too, I realized. Give us this day our
bread. If I were given the whole loaf today, it would grow stale and
moldy. It is best to receive my bread on
an as-needed basis.
bread. For today, I have enough. I know not what tomorrow will
bring, where I will be led, what I will be given to do. I don’t need to know
that today. I will know daily.
was lonely when I left home this morning. I thought I wanted company. I thought
I wanted to talk. God knew that, for today, I needed down time, free time, and solitariness.
If I had needed another with me, or conversation, or scheduled activity, it
would have been given me, but it was not. My daily bread, whatever that may be, is specially baked and provided for
me every day, as it was today.
Yesterday, I wept through the first half of a memoir. Not my
own, though considering the emotional story behind the situation, it might well
have been. Never has a single work scratched at so many of my own scabs
A common activity like reading can become a catharsis when I
allow my heart to remain open to the experience. When I read with soulful eyes
rather than earthly ones, boundaries disappear. I, as reader, become one with
the writer—as if we could ever have been separate. The same is so for oration. When
I listen intently, I hear what’s intended, and I relate.
Another’s words can stir my memory, evoking scenes of the past
I hadn’t realized I’d forgotten. Sometimes, smiles abound. At others, tears stream.
When you share your story with me, I am no longer alone. In the knowing of you, I come to know me better.
Dare to make you visible.
Share your story. Others are waiting to