How Lucky We Are
/"Look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now."
These are the lines from Hamilton stuck in my head this week along with "just like my country, I'm young, scrappy and hungry, and I'm not throwin' away my shot." (I know, I am really late to the Hamilton party of delight and inspiration, but since watching last month, I'm all in, meaning some song is playing in my mind nearly all the time, wanted or not. )
They remind me of one of my favorite poems, A Sleep of Prisoners, where Christopher Fry writes,
Thank God our time is now when wrong
Comes up to face us everywhere,
Never to leave us till we take
The longest stride of soul we ever took.
I am as perplexed about when and how schools should open as anyone. I grieve how Covid-19 and centuries of racism continue to bring so much death and suffering. I can get as worked up as any about people choosing not to wear a mask. There is so much to take in, to grieve, to question, to call out. It can be overwhelming and exhausting.
But when I look around, look around, I also see so much beauty and goodness, hope and love:
I see people showing up on virtual calls courageously sharing their struggles and being met with such compassion and encouragement.
I see home and community gardens flourishing from the extra time and tending they received this Spring while people were at home.
I see white people confronting their denial and discomfort about racism in our country and committing themselves to deep inner work and social change to move us toward more racial justice and equity.
I see parents seeking creative possibilities and making hard, often sacrificial choices to teach and to tend to their little ones and others' during this time of uncertainty.
I see Democrats and Republicans alike seeking to move beyond the polarization and contempt for the other side, often stoked by the media and the parties, to find more common ground on pressing issues. (Maybe this could be a guide?)
I see compassionate souls creating and sharing some of the most beautiful and inspiring prayers, art, songs, and books I've ever encountered.
I see millions of people of all ages and stages taking to the streets in largely peaceful, non-violent protests to call our nation to accountability and demand a better, more just way forward.
I see a country witnessing in powerful ways to the life and legacy of spiritual, moral leader, and civil rights icon John Lewis, and taking his final plea to heart.
Maybe we don't have all the answers or solutions yet. But I think we are asking the right questions: Who do we want to be as individuals, communities, and a country? How can we elect leaders and formulate policies that better reflect our beliefs and values? What are we really here for? Some of our wounds run so deep, and our injustices are so embedded. But at least we are seeing the wounds, confessing our sins, trying to do the hard work of repentance, healing and repair.
I know there is a lot of wishing for days gone by, whether it's for our lives pre-Covid or a former era in our national history. But we're not going back. That's not how God moves, not in our personal lives and not in history. Ours is a God, a Spirit, who is always doing a new thing, creating new possibilities out of messiness and chaos, nudging and pushing us toward new life, greater love, more freedom and justice, a brighter, bolder vision of God's beloved community. So I for one, am eager and hopeful for the new way God is making for each and all of us.
When I was little, I remember my beloved granddad Theo expressing astonishment that he got to live through the most exceptional period of human history.
If he were alive today, I might want to debate with him on that. But maybe the invitation is for all of us to feel that way, gratitude and astonishment that we get this little hallowed stretch of life to enjoy and to offer to God to try to make this world a little better, kinder, more just, more beloved than how we found it.
I'm not throwin' away my shot. How about you?
Grateful to be alive right now with you,
Kimberly