Change

This morning I awoke feeling as if the cold claw of the Grim Reaper was hovering dangerously close and came within a whisker of turning over in bed and surrendering to the sympathetic arms of Morpheus for the rest of the day. It so happened, however, that I decided that today was, after all, not a good day to die.  Muttering "Geronimo!" I tottered into the car which steered itself to the pharmacy. I spent sums guaranteed to loosen the bowels on medicaments of various kinds supplied by a sympathetic pharmacist with the commercial morals of a Levantine usurer. Concluding that the  local Corpus Christi might appreciate sharing a few airborne pathogens with me, after a jolt or two of ristretto at a convenient Caribou, I  presented myself at Church. I had forgotten it was a Family Service. Ah. Under normal circumstances, I smile weakly and edge towards the exit, pleading prior engagements. We began with something completely different, a little Bob Marley. Resisting the temptation to speculate to myself on the reactions of others, I felt my endorphins responding and fingers loosening up, especially when we were told that we didn't get to hide behind the little red book today.
I knew someone once who often spoke of 'awe and wonder' in the context of early years education. It's good for adults too, jaded, weary, worldly-wise, seen-it-done-it-done-time-for-it grownups because change for them is analogous to a child seeing something for the first time.
A little homily for the children contained a suitably macabre ending where, like Macbeth, nobody much lived happily ever after, which of course delighted them. The  Guild sang under my fingers and the highlight, apart from TBP (the barefoot priest) doing what he does best, was some Celtic 'soaking' music. For a moment, I imagined a mighty cathedral, vaulted to the heavens and choirs of the redeemed coming with singing to Zion and it became clear to me why it really was worth crawling out of bed for. A little awe and wonder...and just for a moment I briefly felt part of something. Oh, yeah. Change blew like cold, fresh air.
Managing change is often messy and disordered, so the next little while might turn out to be, as the Chinese say, 'interesting times'. A gipsy woman I know is shifting her world on its axis. In the short term the wood disappears behind a jungle of disorderly trees, but, suddenly, the sun comes out and, almost effortlessly, order is restored and the path clears, the blurred images focus and sharpen. Nostalgia, like all the rest of the wreckage, is quietly left behind, a memory stub on the way to the jubilee.  Thanks, Mary.