Cleanup after the Cluster (05/22/2024)

Yesterday was a busy day. I must admit that most of it was spent trying to plan how I was going to handle the storms that were due later in the evening. My concern was that they might coincide with the grief group’s gathering which had been cancelled two times ago because of storms and which ended the last time with us huddled in the parish center pantry during a tornado warning. It was on my mind all day. And I’m afraid I made a mess of just about everything else.

I sent an email earlier in the day concerning an anonymous donation I’d been asked to coordinate with the local parish. In it, I inadvertently shared the name of the donor. I didn’t realize it until I received the response to my e-mail. I will need to reach out to the donor with sincere apologies today. I am upset with myself and the possible consequences of my thoughtlessness.

Last evening at the meeting for the grief support group, my phone rang. Normally, I would dismiss the call, but something inside me told me I needed to answer. I am glad I did because the caller truly needed someone to listen at that moment. And I did listen. I stepped aside from the meeting, allowing the others to proceed, and listened to the caller, trying to help her as she pondered the best path forward.

When I returned to the meeting, the weather outside began to turn, as I had feared. I asked for everyone’s understanding in closing early so everyone could return to the safety of their homes before the storm’s full fury reached us. We hurriedly gathered our stuff, said our closing prayer, and rushed off to our homes. I felt so bad because the weather has impacted our last three gatherings. It was not the evening I had hoped we’d have.

When I returned home myself, I got a call back from my earlier caller. We talked for a while. Mostly she talked and I listened. Occasionally, I would ask a question or interject a thought. But the true need of the moment was to allow her to talk out loud, to articulate what she was experiencing, and where she felt she was being led. Then the lightning began to pick up in frequency and the thunder told me it was nearby. I apologized to the caller for my fear, but I explained that I needed to hang up. There are two things I never do during lightning storms: shower and talk on the phone. After I hung up, I felt bad about ending our conversation.

The storms lasted until nearly midnight last night. As the winds swirled and the lightning flashed, I sat and prayed. I brought my cluster of missteps and human frailties to the LORD. As irreverent as it sounds, my mind was filled with the memory from the big box store experiences and the familiar announcement, “Cleanup on aisle 7.” And I found myself pouring out my heart to the LORD, bringing all the precious relationships I’d fumbled that day.

As I sat in the dark and prayed, my space lit only by the distant lightning, I began to feel the comfort of my loving and present LORD. My day’s immersion in the pool of humility was cleansing. I realized anew my dependence upon the LORD and the Spirit’s guidance. I realized just how much I've yet to learn and become. I'm not a "done muffin" yet, obviously.

On our way, not every day is a banner day. On our way, we will misstep at times or stray. On our way, there will be distractions that take our minds away from what matters most in the moment. But as I was reminded last evening, we are “on our way.” We haven’t arrived yet.

Keep on keeping on. Take the time to ponder and to reflect upon the journey. Take the time to seek the help needed as we realize our own shortcomings and flaws. And then with faith, buoyed by hope, and fueled by love, keep on keeping on.

Until tomorrow, let us all love well.