Betty has her own story to tell, one can deduce just by looking at her. There is as much ‘sadness’ in her eyes as there is peace about her demeanor. She remains misty eyed for quite some time which makes me wonder about her—about all the untold stories she gets to hear, about how many times a day she cries and laughs and contemplates and cries again. I think about things like that. She says to me, "we can do the show on the 26th of July."
A day before the show, I spend all day in bed feeling poorly and credit the cold for it. I drink lots of honey-ginger-lemon teas that my friend Helen hands to me every so often and worry that I may not make the show, or that I may lose my voice which will be equally inconveniencing. None of that happens and as it turns out, on the day of the show, I wake up feeling much better and in good form to do the show. The only unplanned for inconvenience is my nerves.
When I wake up there is nobody else in the house but me. The silence and emptiness is comforting, a good milieu for contemplation and solitude, which is exactly what I need. Sadly, within a few minutes of waking up, I hear some disturbing noise over loud speakers projected throughout the neighborhood. It changes the serene environment of my house putting a dumper on my spirits and a further strain on my already tender nerves. I putter around the house trying to get my spirits up and fail miserably. There is a church not too far away from the house and I hear their music. Everyone in the neighborhood hears their music, and preaching, and praying. They pray in tongues sometimes. What I hear when I first wake up, is the voice of a man—the Pastor most likely—speaking a language I don’t understand. He is praying in tongues and it is quite disturbing. I have a problem with this since I get no interpretation of the messages in tongues. I wonder if the pastor knows this? Because I am nervous about the day, I am also selfish, irritated and annoyed by the noise, and feel guilty for the way I feel towards this church. I am a christian, should I be thinking these thoughts?
To curb my irritation, I get my bible out and just as I am about to open it, I get a text message from my friend Brad in Denver. It says, “Praise the Lord Rose, I’ll be praying! Habakkuk 1:5! Be encouraged and just smile in the midst of all of it for He is on the move and He promises to give you the words to say.” I had sent Brad and a few other friends a text message telling them about the TV show. Brad is a very talented musician with a heart of gold. Most of his messages contain melodies and are so uplifting. I read the text message again and start laughing out loud. Perfect timing Brad! My unkind thoughts are interrupted by this, my first message for the day; “Praise the Lord Rose, just smile in the midst of all of it...” Amused, I settle down to a brand new cup of Helen’s modified concoction that I have made myself, and with a renewed spirit, and smile, I start reading Habakkuk chapter 1 verses 1- 5:
²How long, O Lord, must I call for help, but you do not listen? Or cry out to you, “Violence!” but you do not save? ³Why do you make me look at injustice? Why do you tolerate wrong? Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds. ⁴Therefore the law is paralyzed, and justice never prevails. The wicked hem in the righteous so that justice is perverted. The Lords answer: ⁵“Look at the nations and watch—and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told…"
Habakkuk is one of those prophets who complains a lot. His pleas remind me that our generation is just as in much trouble as his was—oh God why don’t you do this or that…don’t you see your children are suffering…why don’t you do something about it…the problems of human kind are nothing to you…you created the heavens and the seas…why do you allow evil to prevail, why am I abandoned…I am alone in this, why don’t you help me? He complains just as we complain, and God answers. And then he complains again, and God answers. It takes a while for him to get it and finally, in chapter 3 of his book, he prays instead of complaining!
By now, you have read my blogs. Yes, I am well aware that I am not a prophet. But I am a human being who sometimes behaves like this prophet. To be quite candid, I am worse. I often don’t get it! I don’t get it when I am on the way back home and all I see is the litter—sadness, grief, sorrow, blame, the poor of the poor, war and strife, disease and death, famine, injustices against children.
When I first met George whose story I have told else where in this blog, I could not stop crying every time I prayed for him and his family. I wondered why a good God would let something like what happened to George happen, and then remembered that He is not really responsible for the evil we cause to each other, he is not responsible for our cruelty and choices and actions. We are!
I often think "Right, I am going to take matters in my own hands, I want to guard the weak and restore freedoms among them; I want to change the reality of the next second, the next child” Ah, I am not alone; at least I don’t think I am. We all have a lot of “I” moments and the design of life is such that someone is always responsible for the misery or the happiness in it, and somebody else is always trying to fix it. It is so easy to feel this way when there is so much need around us, to blame God, to blame the world, the government, to blame something, anything at all, and also to try to help. For me, the point of my learning a lesson is when I fail, and realize miserably that I could not move a single stone even if I tried. Not in a powerful revolutionary way at least. I need faith!
Continue part II
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