en pleno centro

When I’ve been away for an extended period of time (from the blog, that is), I tend to feel I must come up with something weighty to write about. As time increases away from writing, the pressure grows ever greater to produce or perform. To kill that nasty beast, I decide to get back to this, tonight, when I seem to have way too many things on my mind to be able to string together something coherent.

My espresso pot hisses, and it’s time to serve myself a demitasse of my favourite hot drink (good British tea running in a tie for first, however). A spoon of demerara but then I notice: the milk’s gone off. I’ve got some creamer on hand, and of course, for tonight, that’ll do. So much of my life seems like this right now: I’ve gone and made the coffee, but I can’t seem to bring all the ingredients of a cortado together, all at once. Right ingredients matched with good timing.

My hopes raised for a job I pray to get. My heart lingering on thoughts of a certain someone I’ve met. The wave rises in hope, in anticipation, and then, waiting for that movement forward, a rush of sea foam and turbulence and joy, and, then, just then, blinking, I am met with silence. No word from the employer, many days overdue, no assurance that mutualities exist, no returns. I’ve sent my hopes out, and now will they return on the wind, answered, embraced?

Jesus told the disciples when he met them out on a midnight stroll on the Sea of Galilee, “Courage! It’s me. Don’t be afraid.” Those guys, they just couldn’t quite put it all together. Their screams and shouts told the real story. The meal for five thousand, the miracles of healing, the wise words, the authority, it just hadn’t gelled yet. Their brains and hearts were freaking out at what they had seen, heard, felt. And so would I have been. And so I do now.

I’ve seen, heard, felt things that cause wonderment, curiosity, awe, fear, and confusion, and I, just like the Boys, am, “straining at rowing, for the wind was against them.” I am straining at my oars, trying to put cause and effect together, trying to make sense of all this business which is my days. I keep feeling like I’ve got the right ingredients for abundance and bounty and pleasure – that robust, creamy, sweet espresso -- but something’s amiss. I am still waiting for it to come together. I am still waiting to taste it. The disciples may have witnessed all those things Jesus did up until that time, but they still hadn’t accepted how badly this would shake up their worlds if what they saw, they believed.

And then with what feels to me like compassion, Jesus tells them to not fear, even in their incomprehension. He sees them straining, “the boat now in the middle of the sea, tossed by waves, for the wind was contrary,” and “in the fourth watch of the night, he went to them, walking on the sea.”

He came to them, in his own way, on his own time. They didn’t understand still, and somehow, that was okay. I guess, it’s okay for me too, to keep on with all this WAITING (that I just completely HATE), not getting it, not knowing where I went wrong OR right, everything good seemingly poised to miraculously rain down on me….or not. I am calling from the boat, “Can’t you see how damn hard I am paddling this thing?”

And then….He comes to me.