most hopeful

For the first morning,
since chaos crashed into the scene
and scattered normalcy
even from places I was unaware it existed,
I woke up
and returned to the rhythm
changed, of course,
but returned.

The new normal includes
much of the old normal.
A run.
The news.
Email.
Reading words on a page.
Laundry thrown in the washer.
Dog food crackling into the ceramic bowls.
Even the alarm on the phone
suggests there’s
work and
people and
tasks and
hopes and
fears and
weather and
chores to wake up to.
A return to life.

It’s no surprise that the
life of the church
has been built around the calendar
for hundreds and hundreds of years.
It pulls us,
willing or not,
to return to the rhythm
and let it guide us back to
work and
people and
tasks and
hopes and
fears and
weather and
chores to wake up to.
We are challenged to
return back to life.

Today, for the first morning,
returning to the rhythm,
felt like the first act of worship
I’ve done outside
worship through grieving
in nearly two weeks.

djordan
Pine Tree