LAYERS

When I peel the layers back of the last 2 weeks,
I learn a lot about my days.
And about what’s underneath.
And I am brought into a new consciousness
About what I’ve been moving through.
Not earthshattering stuff.
Yet stuff just the same.
I have put on a brave face,
Knowing I must put one foot in front of the other,
And hope my emotions will one day catch up.
I’ve tried to pretend determined,
Morning til night. Morning til night.
Like Milan wielding a heavy Chinese sword of the Tang Dynesty,
Fierce determination on her little girl face.
Probably put there by all the things she doesn’t know
About the savage warriors she’ll face;
And how they eat little girls for lunch.

One layer was sickness.
Really? Now?
When there is so much to do.
We’re moving for heaven’s sake!
How can there be so little energy that the act of lifting my arm
feels like it should be awarded a gold medal?
And the unpacking of a life,
A feat requiring Ironman training.
Yet underneath that was the person of husband,
Steady and strong. Companion.
Making things happen.
Unpacking, placing and polishing,
So I could lay my weary body down in a put together bed.

One layer was the transition itself.
Still ongoing.
Driving belongings to a new city.
Walking through the door of a new home
That has yet to have significance in my heart.
Strangers in a new neighborhood of others,
Already established.
And yet beneath that was Gratitude,
A simple and beautiful place to call home for a while,
Our things coming to life around us,
Kenya brought close,
History bridging the gaps to the new with precious familiarty.
And kind neighbors responding to our showing up.
Showing up themselves with treats of welcome.
Now if that isn’t gift,
I don’t know what is.

One layer was moving into holiday,
With family and new friends,
Coming together to eat good food,
Celebrating Thanksgiving and 60th wedding anniversaries,
Things we’re supposed to anticipate
That I actually found myself at the table of,
With very little forethought.
I’ve just been living.
Not doing much anticipating.
Yet underneath was that yearly rhythm of tradition,
Even the foods we put in our mouths,
Touchstones that we’re ok.
That we’re more than ok.
That we are blessed beyond measure.
And there were more layers,
Than I can name here.
Perhaps that’s another one.
So little time to unpeel it all.

And what do I find at the core?
Life.
And love.
And opportunity.
Guidance.
And Presence.
And Peace.
It makes me glad for the chance to peel.
To give it all over.
To see the best I can be for now is ok
And that all I can be takes precious time.
And God’s good grace.

Show your support

Clapping shows how much you appreciated Melody Harrell’s story.