“So screw every cult of hate. Every bullet and knife / and bomb and
shitty thing said under the breath / or with the full conviction of the lungs. If you see a Jew, / be a Jew. If you see a Muslim, be a Muslim. If you see a human, / be a human. The lend-an-ear or a hand kind. / The “how’s it going” kind. The kind kind.”
– from “This Again” by Bob Hicok
When I was a child, I would cut out pictures from magazines of houses, usually advertisements, where I wanted to live. These were not elaborate structures, just nice houses you would find in middle class neighborhoods. The message was clear: if you bought a certain product, you too would have a good life in a nice house with an inviting porch nestled among trees turning a golden yellow against a deep blue sky. Everything would be so simple and easy and clear if you bought … Lucite Paint.
I believe I was drawn to these images because that was not the house I lived in. Our neighborhood was working class. Our house was small; five rooms for five kids with one bathroom off the kitchen. I remember things being chaotic and messy. The front yard weedy, parts of the back yard bare. I thought if we had a better house, things would be different.
Now just to be clear, my childhood was better than many. We never went hungry. There were always presents under the tree at Christmas and gifts to open on birthdays. But still I wanted a different house. I was haunted with feelings of inadequacy. I was a skinny kid, taller than most, with a mop of dark wavy hair that was always a mess. A “B” student, bright enough but not a standout. I thought that perhaps if we lived in a different house, a house like the cool kids had, things would be different, better, and I would be OK. The kids with nice houses did not seem to struggle with the same sense of inadequacy as I did. Perhaps if my family lived in a different house, I would be less haunted by the sense that I was not enough.
The View from Today
I now know those were the thoughts of child lacking a deeper understanding of what really mattered. I simply could not see at that young age that Lucite Paint or any product that you could buy was not going to make me feel whole.
So now when I find myself struggling, having doubts, or living in fear, what am I to do?
Rather than buying something, I know I need to turn inward, “to become more and more open to the presence of God in my life,” as Thomas Merton teaches.1 When I first read these words, I thought, OK. I’m on board. But what does that actually mean? In other words, just how am I to do that?
Surprise! In this season of darkness, I am learning that I don’t need to do anything, that God is constantly pushing through. I just need to recognize the ways in which the Divine presence can be found in every small gesture of kindness, love, and support extended to me or that I am able to extend to others.
Washing Dishes
I recently saw a Facebook post of a teacher inviting a Buddhist to speak to his elementary school class. The Buddhist arrived and without a word began writing on the board: You may never run into a burning building to save a child, but you can help your mom do the dishes. The kids laughed of course. Only then did the Buddhist begin to speak, talking about the importance of the small acts of service and kindness.
How else is the Divine to manifest in this physical world except through the love and support we extend to each other? Such small acts can change the world. Again, I hear Merton –– how we find “ … God in and through simple daily experiences and contact with others.”2
A Constant to Trust
This is a constant I am learning to trust. No purchased item is going to fill a void inside of me. The hole within can only be filled from within. So when I find sadness trailing me, I dig deeper. I open my eyes wider to see where God truly is manifesting in my life. And I see that daily my life is showered with simple blessings –– everything from a phone call from a sister to check on me, to a gift from another friend to celebrate her birthday, to my brother going to a poetry reading with me an hour away so I am not driving home alone in the dark; from my neighbor’s dogs jumping on me in excitement when I walk in her front door, to the green light that keeps me from being late, to a note from a client saying how pleased he is to work with me; from my warm and safe home, to good food to cook and eat, to a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed. They all say God is taking care of me.
How can I respond except to say thank you and then, in turn, look for ways to be a blessing to others –– not in some co-dependent, “I will take care of you” way, but in a way that opens doors as others have opened doors for me to grow and heal, live and love; to help others find their way, just as I am being helped, by the grace of God, to find my way, the way that God is pulling me forward, the way toward my true path, the one leading me home.
FOR REFLECTION: How have your perspectives or desires changed from when you were a child? How do you see the Divine manifesting in your life today? What can you do to increase “the presence of God” in this world?
1 Merton’s Place of Nowhere by James Finley (Notre Dame, Indiana: Ave Maria Press, 2003), 14.
2 Merton’s Place of Nowhere, 44.
Top image: Pixabay/Ericka Wittlieb
Midtext image: Pixabay/Melissa Wilt
Side image: Pixabay/Avelino Calvar Martinez
