While we aren’t always aware of it, there is a rhythm to our lives and the events that transpire as we move through the day.
I was running Ash on Friday morning in the still-darkness of the morning when I saw my friend Art behind me call my name. My instinct was to continue running, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt if I turned back and walked with him and his dog Shirley. I wasn’t in a hurry as I had been the previous day when I had to be somewhere at 7:00 am.
What I didn’t realize was that taking the time to walk with them for a short way would put me in place to cross paths with my friend Jennifer a little later on my own run. Jennifer was feeling exasperated with life (as, I believe, we all have been to some degree recently) and I reminded her of several things, but notably that in life that doing what we’re supposed/doing the right thing often leaves us on a lonely road. That, however, is another topic for another day.
I hadn’t been to see Fr. Gene since November and it would have been easy to make excuses and put the appointment off for yet a few months as we walk through figuring out how to stay safe. But I also knew it would be good for me to take that drive to the South Valley and he told me we would sit outside (6 feet apart).
As we talked and laughed and caught up, I felt pretty positive and had a sense of freedom that I haven’t had much of in the past months. It’s a sense that I have on most days, but seemingly has been drown out in all the distractions.
I told him that I had my irritated moments but mostly I understood that what I’ve been through is a delay of what is to come, that I do believe positive things are ahead, and that when doors and windows close, somehow new ones open.
It was fairly breezy out (a good thing since we would reach 101 degrees at my house later that afternoon) and I looked down to see a feather had blown right up next to my foot. Native Americans believe that when a feather lands in your path, it’s a sign you’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing.
There isn’t always confirmation (or maybe we aren’t always aware of them), but on this morning it came again as I drove home and the song “Hot Hot Hot” by Buster Poindexter began to play on the radio.
It took me a moment, but I was reminded that this was one of Mom’s favorite songs and I could picture her doing her “hip shake” (as my sister Karen calls it) when it would play in the 1980s.
It’s easy to be distracted and get caught up in what feels in our faces, particularly with the onslaught or constant news and posting on social media, but if we take the time to take a few steps back, the signs are there.
Forward. And it came from Mom which means it has to be good.