Comes The Dawn

I’ll preface this post by saying – I’m not really sure what inspired me to write about this.  Perhaps that sometime last week, I remembered this is the month of my ex’s birthday, or that my Mom mentioned Aunt Dona to me the other day.  Whatever, here it is…

When I was in high school, my close pal (who remains so to this day) and I often found ourselves engaging in conversations borne out of typical teenage angst and likely boredom.  You know we’d toss around those big questions – are you happy?  What is it to be happy?  How can anyone possibly be so, when the facts are indisputable: whatever this life holds, you live it and then you die.  How heavy is that stuff?!  Isn’t that typical teenage angst?  At least for North American, middle-class teenagers (really more privileged than that, especially compared to so much of the world).  I don’t know for sure, but perhaps the good news is that we survived it.  And the truth is that we both were quite lucky – we had stable homes (as much as any home can be, but I’d say that ours were especially so…both of us have parents married now more than 40 years, give or take!), both of us the youngest of two, generally well-adjusted, except for this malaise that seemed to be a phase that we both shared.  Anyhow…

I open with this as background to what follows… See one day Sara (my pal) found in a Funky Winkerbean comic strip (anyone remember that?) this poem in the first frame of the strip:

Life Goes On…

And you cry, because things get so strange so fast.

And you cry, because nothing good ever lasts.

 We liked it so much in the midst of our angst, we had notepads with “Life goes on…” printed on them and passed notes in school on said notes.  (Perhaps we were a bit geeky, too! Sorry Sara.)  And then, one day I found this poem entitled “Comes the Dawn” by an unknown author.  I made a copy for Sara; it was all about learning when you’ve experienced saying “goodbye” to someone you love. Anyhow, I’d forgotten about that, as we moved from high school through college and into early adulthood.  And eventually I found myself re-introduced to the poem.  Here’s what happened…

In the summer of ’98, I found myself in a less-then-enviable position.  Not even 30, I was divorcing.  And my parents and I were together to gather my belongings, load ‘em on a truck, and get myself permanently moved away from that place, that relationship, that life.  It wasn’t fun, and to this day, I remember it being hot and humid (mid-July in VA!), and I remember it feeling stifling and humiliating and scary and sad, so very sad, all at the same time.  But we did it.  We sort of trudged along until it was done.  But before it was, at a point when we took a break on the front stoop of that little rented house, my Mom went to their car and brought back an envelope for me.  It was from my Aunt Dona.  Now, Aunt Dona was my Mom’s closest pal since they were 12.  I grew up knowing her, calling her “aunt” and being closely connected with events in her life.  In particular what happened when I was about 10 or so.  She’d been married 20+ years, her kids a little bit older than my sister and I, and she got divorced.  It was difficult and messy; my parents were a great sense of support to her (I think I can safely say), and while it was tough, Aunt Dona proved gracious and courageous and strong.  She made it through all of that, and I can happily say she found a new chapter that’s lasted 20+ better years!  Well, this envelope had a card from her to me with a copy of this poem, “Comes the Dawn.”  The card basically said she was thinking of me, but also that she wanted to share this poem with me, as someone had shared it with her long ago.  That poem…well, I remember fighting back tears that afternoon, but from the very first read, it struck a chord.  I put it in my pocket and went on about our business.  But later, in the quiet of my room before going to sleep, I took it out and recited it. And that became my routine.  Every night before trying to sleep (I didn’t sleep much then), I recited it.  After about 2 or 3 weeks, I had it memorized.  And for the next full year, every single night, it was part of my routine.

There were many things that got me through that period in my life (family. friends. Al-anon!)  And that poem.  I did not ever speak to my Aunt Dona about it.  Not once.  But I know that it was a big part of helping me heal.  And you know, I think she knew, too.  Someone had given it to her in her dark days, and so she passed it on to me because she knew what only members of this club can know.  The participants of this club (I call it “the E-club” and that’s not “e” for exclusive or elite, though “exclusive” is true in the sense that you only get to belong if you go through the big D…no, this is “e” for ex) are aware that going through this particular thing called “divorce” is utterly painful and lonely and sad, so very sad.  No one wants to be in the club, no one.  It’s my experience that no one gets married to end-up divorced (except maybe Kim Kardashian…I couldn’t help myself!).  So, when it happens, when folks end-up at this option, having something, anything to serve as a buoy through the sadness and pain, is a really good thing.  And this poem proved so for me.

And before I share it, I’d like to add that I did get through that period.  Into a life fuller and more joyous and precious than I could’ve ever known.  I don’t wish what happened for me on anyone. But I do believe learning lessons from it has made me what I am and helped me find where I find myself today.  I recognize that’s not so comforting when you’re in it…when you’re in the loneliness and sadness and uncertainty, but it seems the way past pain is through it. I definitely learned that in the rooms—you can try to avoid, deny, rationalize, defend, explain, or ignore the truth and all of its painful stuff all you want; ultimately, the way past is through.  I think Winston Churchill said, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” Perhaps he was onto something there.  Anyhow, I did make it through.  Sometimes one step forward, ten or twelve back, but through nonetheless.  And the riches on this side…well, who woulda thought?! 

So, today, I’m grateful.  And that poem, Comes the Dawn, played no small part. I wish I could give the credit to the person who wrote it.  But it’s debated.  If you did a google search, you’d see.  This one woman was given credit, but then others have said that’s not right.  As a person who cares about plagiarism (I’m a teacher, what can I say!), I wish I could give the nod accurately. But alas, it’ll have to remain unknown for now.  I rest easy in hoping that whoever did pen it might know how helpful it has been, at least in this one life.  I’m guessing lots of others, too.  And now, maybe yours.  Enjoy!  And if it’s not so much for you, well, something else I learned in the rooms, take what you like, and leave the rest.  But I do believe, whatever you’ve been through or may be going through, truly,

Comes the Dawn.

After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today,
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans,
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure...
That you really are strong,
And you really do have worth.
And you learn and learn...
With every goodbye you learn.

Don't Say Always or Never...

It’s an unwritten rule in our house that we don’t say always or never.  By unwritten, I mean, it’s a rule that I say to the children whenever I hear them say these words, but beyond that, it isn’t actually written down anywhere, we haven’t tried drilling it into them (unlike, the rule, “no biting!” – that one is definitely a REAL rule), and I’m pretty sure my husband isn’t fully on-board with the notion, mostly because we’ve never (!) had a conversation about it directly.  Nonetheless, it’s a rule I proclaim, and I’m sticking to it.  Now, before going further, I should say, as with all rules, there are exceptions (much like English grammar, in fact):

·         I never want to eat liver and onions.  Never.

·         I never want to watch boxing matches, except for in the Rocky movies (NOT past Rocky III) and Raging Bull (see, there’s even exceptions to the exception).

·         I never want to iron.  (And I don’t!)

·         I never want to drive in Los Angeles, California.                             

If I thought really, really hard about it, there might be a few more, but that’s the gist of it for me.  My nevers. 

                        And…
 

·         I always want to stay up later than I should.

·         I always want to remember to be grateful for the amazing family and friends in my life.  I am blessed beyond measure, and I always want to be thankful. (I’m not claiming that I succeed at this, but I’d like to.)

·         I always want to spend at least a week at a beach every year.

·         I always want to accomplish more than I do in a day (but I’m working on just letting that go…wabisabi, right!  See my first blogpost for clarification.)

·         I always want to feel the joy of seeing my children’s wonder…assures me like nothing else that God is.

Okay, so I fudge on the rule myself.  Even so, I feel pretty strongly that teaching my children that they shouldn’t say always or never is going to serve them in life.  At least that’s what I’m telling myself.  Why?  Because the fact is that almost nothing is always or never anything.  It goes to the reality of things being understood in relation to other things, circumstances, people, events, and experiences.  Context matters.  Cultural assumptions and societal norms sometimes (often!) play a part.  While there might be some truth to a statement like “he’s always saying it’s my fault,” the truth lays somewhere between his saying that and the amount of time that approaches always…that is, the truth is more like, “he says it’s my fault a lot of the time,” or even “it feels like he says it’s my fault a lot of the time.”  Thus are the kinds of things I often hear from one of my three children.  They don’t really mean that another one of them always says this or that…which brings us to why I respond to such declarations with “We don’t say always or never.”  Because truth-telling is especially important. 

If my husband and I do nothing right as parents, let us at least get this right – instilling in our kids the idea that the truth trumps everything else.  Regardless of how bad something is, how uncertain you are about something, how awful you think you’ve screwed up, whatever it might be – that thing you just absolutely think must stay secret, perhaps especially that! – telling the truth is ALWAYS better than not telling it.  (There’s the exception again.  Perhaps the very one that proves the rule!).  We have a dear friend who says, Nothing bad comes from telling the truth.  She’s right. Wouldn’t it be nice if the politicians in our country agreed?  That’s a subject for a different post, though.  

So… because I believe this to be so, when I hear declarations with always or never, I’m going to keep on proclaiming to the children – We don’t say always or never.  Recognizing, of course, there are always (!) a few exceptions.  By the way, what’s on your lists of always and nevers?

Wilderness "Wonderings"...

The new chaplain at school chose a theme for the weekly chapel services this semester.  Chapel is a voluntary activity, and each week a different person usually gives a short homily.  As the theme is "wilderness," the texts for reflection follow the experiences of the Hebrews when they entered the wilderness, after being delivered from slavery in Egypt.  The texts start in Exodus.  And since I was asked to speak this week, the text was the following - Exodus 15: 22 - 27.  For those of you who don't have it memorized (who does?!), here it is...
²² Then Moses led Israel from the Red Sea and they went into the Desert of Shur. For three days they traveled in the desert without finding water. ²³ When they came to Marah, they could not drink its water because it was bitter. (That is why the place is called Marah.^[a]) ²⁴ So the people grumbled against Moses, saying, “What are we to drink?”
²⁵ Then Moses cried out to the LORD, and the LORD showed him a piece of wood. He threw it into the water, and the water became fit to drink.
There the LORD issued a ruling and instruction for them and put them to the test. ²⁶ He said, “If you listen carefully to the LORD your God and do what is right in his eyes, if you pay attention to his commands and keep all his decrees, I will not bring on you any of the diseases I brought on the Egyptians, for I am the LORD, who heals you.”
²⁷ Then they came to Elim, where there were twelve springs and seventy palm trees, and they camped there near the water.   (NIV)

While preparing, I couldn't help but think I was doing some "wilderness wondering," perhaps akin to the "wilderness wanderings" of the ancient Hebrews.  Meaning, meandering, going about without much sense of what would be next, uncertain, and trying not to be too stressed out about that.  That brought me to the text...the people have left Egypt now.  Their bondage broken by the power of God…following the one tapped by God to lead them out.  You’d think they’d be euphoric.  No longer slaves, oppressed by the trappings of Pharaoh’s ego, pride, and wealth.  They’re free…we might expect singing and dancing in that wilderness…and in the verses before this text, that is, in fact, what we find.  Likely the oldest witness in all of Scripture, the Songs of Moses and Miriam show us the thankfulness and praise pouring-out from the people.  But then, enter the wilderness.  That place of uncertainty.  And what happens.  For 3 days, they’ve been walking and wandering...

• Without water!
• What they (and we all) know as basic necessity to sustain life is lacking
• This wilderness they’re in – it’s at a level of the worst kind, as they struggle for mere survival
• So, what do they do?
• Lash out…groaning and griping…complaining

Now, we understand that, right?  Perhaps we’re not altogether unfamiliar with their feelings when we consider our own “wilderness” experiences.  Granted, perhaps ours have not been as dire as life and death, but it sure can feel like it when we’re in it...When a personal relationship is a mess, or we feel alone in a new place (like college, or a new job, or a new team, or a new apt., or differences in our family configuration), or we simply have too much work to do, or things to accomplish and not enough resources to meet those needs…when these things happen, we might just feel like those Hebrews in the wilderness.  Wanting to groan and gripe and complain.  And if we're honest, really, honest, we don't just want to whine and complain, we do it!  Truer for me, than I like to admit!!

But here’s the good news…the story does not end there.  God – through Moses – provides.  God sees them through this real suffering, real struggle.  And here’s the really cool thing – it’s not some “lightning bolt,” “grand fireworks,” “supernatural/beyond our world and reality” – kind of event.  No.  God uses a piece of wood.  Nothing extra-ordinary, nothing otherworldly about it.  A piece of wood.  It’s nothing special in and of itself.  Instead, it’s made special, made sacred, through God. 

So, why do I find that good for me?  For us all, I think? Because in our very own wilderness experiences, just maybe God acts and will act in the same plain ol’ way.  That’s the unbelievable, amazing, gracious thing about it…God acts in the everyday, routine, common, ordinary with everyday, routine, common, ordinary things and people.  I think that just might be a good word from this story.  Yes, God indeed provides/heals/makes whole/restores in the wilderness AND God does so through all that is around us, before us, and with us.  That’s pretty comforting, I hope.  And empowering…empowering us to hang in there in those times and trust the goodness and mercy of God that surely will see us through, in whatever ordinary means and ways God sees fit.  May we all open our eyes to see where and when that happens. 

That was the gist of the "wondering" I thought about in considering this text and participating in chapel.  If it offers a word for you, too, terrific!  And if not, or it's less akin to your worldview and thinking, well, thanks for reading nonetheless.

To whatever "wondering" is next in these posts...