Lord, Make Me an Instrument

"later that night

i held an atlas in my lap

ran my fingers across the whole world

and whispered

where does it hurt?

it answered

everywhere

everywhere

everywhere."

~ Warsan Shire

Sometimes, it is all too much. There is too much pain and death and hurt. Too many places torn apart by violence. Too many families fleeing for their lives. Too many who are threatened because of the color of their skin, who they are, who they love. There is too much for one person to handle, too much to take on.

Right now, all I can do is silently cry and pray for the world as I listen to a friend play Faure's Pie Jesu on his trumpet, while stroking the soft ears of my dog, who really doesn't know what is going on but knows that I am sad.

At times like this, I turn to music. I love to sing but at times like this, I can't always sing out loud. The pain and emotion becomes too much and I choke on the grief and the tears. I have to settle to listening to others express my feelings and singing the words in my heart.

That is not to say that I am silenced. No, it is merely a pause before I come in, stronger than before. It is singing into the rest. It is an energized rest. And while I rest, others are singing, praying, doing, waiting for me to join them.

So, what is my next note, my next phrase? Well, as Anne Lamott wrote today, I'll do the next right thing. I'll clean my home, I'll finish my gift for the newest baby in our family. I'll listen to Lauridsen's Lux Aeterna, I'll pickup litter in my neighborhood and help clear a storm drain. I'll send what support I can to those helping refugees, I'll pray for friends going through difficult times and pray for Paris and Lebanon and Syria and those affected by earthquakes in Japan. I'll pray for peace, for the whole world. I'll walk my dog, I'll breathe into the rest and I'll come back in, singing.