'Tis a Friday morning, and my fat grey kitten cleans herself beside me. I let her outside, but her maximum comfort level in the big world is only about three minutes. She has jumped down now; she must know that I'm writing about her. Typical young teen.
Cody sleeps peacefully; my hazelnut cinnamon coffee is my constant.
Isn't it crazy how there are these fundamental things in the world that avoid complex scrutiny with either logic or emotions? For instance, coffee is always welcome and good to me. I seldom approach it with the desire to parse, or appease, or pretend I'm something I'm not around it. I wake up, put on my rose-patterned warm robe, and approach it confidently.
Most of the time, I analyze what I react to in my environment (either human or object), and so it seems rare this morning to have this anchor. I'm not sure why I'm appreciating it so much right now. I do think it has something to do with my dreams. I dreamt about a moved friend who was going through a tough time regarding parents. I was there for her ... can we ask the same of others? Often not. I think I tossed and turned on that last night as well.
However, I have a friend who is steady like coffee. She teaches me a lot just by being warm and available. I don't scrutinize her much at all; she's already proven reliable. My husband is steady; he hugged and kissed me this morning before he went to work, telling me that I'm pretty and good. I can always count on him, although I feel unsteady in the way that I reciprocate and how I securely grasp his love. Why should he love me?
Relationship with God. Okay, this should be steady and comforting at all times, right? In some ways, I know that he's reliable to me; however, I tend to turn away from Him, and I'm the one whose not fundamentally sound. It's difficult to remember that He loves me despite me. It's difficult to remember that my mind wants to denounce his love and presence at times, particularly when I feel low. It's a complex relationship that often has too much of myself, wringing my hands, in it. I need to just allow him to be there like my morning coffee. He is there. Sip and see that he is good.
Yet then I begin exacting in complex ways.
I begin thinking strangely, mixing my parenting weaknesses with my weakness at accepting God's love. I feel his disapproval at how I'm handling my daughter right now. Yet, it's not really Him but my own human limitations I'm struggling with. I want things to be perfect, to have a perfect relationship, but she needs to grow on her own without me. I hate that, and I'm feeling hurt. Then I get angry. Then I feel sinful. Then spirituality becomes a nuisance. Coffee seems a better alternative.
Yet then coffee goes its natural way (euphemism btw), and it becomes momentary. I can still love its calming effects, yet I can't ask it to heal my flagellations. Sigh. Approaching the higher good is so hard at times because it wants you to relax and find rest and give up the fret. He wants to work on heart, mind, spirit in a good sense. I'm not sure that I'm so malleable.
It takes trust, a simple gesture. Here. I raise my coffee cup to the eternal and pledge attempt, if not attempt then acknowledgement of, if not acknowledgement then a heart beat for your ideal, good, steady, reliable reality. Amen.