A little drama in our little house in the woods this morning!
And yesterday morning. And the day before.
I crumpled newspaper, laid kindling, carried seven logs into the mouth of our wood stove. Lit the match. Good morning, wood stove. Good morning, fire. Ahhh, sweet warmth on a cold 21 degree morning.
Barry and I chatted on the couch with coffee. When suddenly–BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! YANG! YANG! YANG! BEEP, BEEP, ENDLESS BEEP!
The damn–but appreciated–smoke alarm screamed throughout the house. We searched for smoke like conscientious homeowners. None. Nada. Not a bit.
It ceased its endless caterwauling, just like yesterday and the day before.
We heaved sighs of relief.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
“Shall I open the basement door?” I shouted above the yelling round blasting disc.
This was the third day of such illicit unprompted unappreciated behavior. We’re at a loss. It carries on; it stops; it continues yammering. Talk about something getting on your nerves way too early in the morning!
Suddenly in the midst of this smoke alarm drama–suddenly, just like that–my mind went totally silent. And I remembered. Turn toward the Holy. Turn toward the silence. Without even using words I remembered to wake up to Spirit. Pay attention. Holy, I am paying attention. Is there anything you are trying to say, oh Great Spirit of everything in the human realm?
No answer comes today. But it’s enough. Suddenly something inside is paying attention to what’s going on beneath and around and in-between the drama. Something is turning toward the Larger Picture that reveals itself in silence.
Barry suggests we unplug the smoke alarm from its electrical wires and clean it out. The instructions advise cleaning the device annually and it’s never been done. We’ll spray with the air hose tonight before trying to enjoy coffee tomorrow morning.
Something similar happened during the closet-cleaning spree. (OK, guys, I PROMISE to quit talking about cleaning the closet SOON.) I was tossing, wiping, vacuuming, singing, thinking about a trillion pertinent things when–OW!–the head moved too abruptly upward and hit one of the shelves.
It didn’t hit hard, oh concerned reader. Just a wee fierce sting.
My mind totally silenced and turned toward the Holy. Ohhh…yes…I remember now. I had vowed to devote this closet-cleaning to You. To Presence. To staying steadfast with You. And then promptly forgot about it!
I cleaned the rest of the closet holding hands with the Silence, feeling the joy of Christmas music playing in the background, sensing the body. Present. Not lost in thoughts and the dream of only being Kathy. Holy & me groovin’ with some closet cleaning.
Do I believe God beeped the smoke alarm or bammed the head just to prove a point?
The point is we can use smoke alarms and bumps and other human dramas to re-center in the Holy. To return to Presence.
Or we can swear up a storm.
It is an opportunity. Just another possibility to turn toward love instead of anger. To open the heart instead of close it. To turn to Holy instead of smashin’ the smoke alarm. When we can. When it’s possible.
And don’t be thinking I’m some Saint of Catastrophes, always turning toward the Holy Spirit when things go wrong. Nope. I can be as fierce in my resistance as the next guy.
But I love it when this happens–this Holy Silence–this turning toward love. And vow to court it like a beloved. Please, dear God, let me turn back toward You again and again and again and again, even in small boo-boos and annoyances. As we say in my childhood church: Lord, Hear our prayer.
Day 37 of a seventy-five day journey to connect more deeply with God, Spirit, Holy, Love…to explore “What the Heart Knows” during the waning days of 2020.