Waiting For Wonder
When I first closed my eyes, all I could hear was the clattering and clunking of the hard-working air conditioner. Then the fan kicked off and its humming became background music for the chattering birds in the pin oak planted on the other side of the pool. “That’s more like it,” I told myself as I relaxed to gather my thoughts after swimming laps.
Within seconds, however, I heard the squeal of a school bus come to a stop down the street and a loud bang as my neighbor’s garbage lid slammed shut. “Human nature at its finest,” I chuckled, allowing the floaters cavorting in my eyes to entertain me. Then taking a deep breath, I re-tuned my ears to identify the muted sounds of Mother Nature once again.
“Breathe gratitude,” a Buddhist monk once bade me in a YouTube video. Stressing the importance of conscious breathing, he advocated keeping your eyes closed and taking the time to breathe, being in the present, going neither backward nor forward, but just being and breathing. “Okay, I’m here, God, and I’m grateful,” I told my Best Friend, then I added, “but I’m kind of forcing it right now and could use some help.”
“Where are the twin doves?” I begged no one in particular, listening for signs of the pair I had spotted earlier while reading. They had a nest somewhere nearby and liked cruising the patio together, as though unaware that they were the guests. Their whispered coos usually lift my spirits, and I hoped their playful flutters would sound again.
Keeping my eyelids fastened, I tilted my head back and swayed in the rusty glider. I could feel the scorching summer sun beating directly on my face because the glider’s canopy that should have been shading me was torn away during a storm a few years ago and was never replaced. The afternoon heat penetrated my mood, warming me inside and outside as I continued to take in my surroundings.
Having recently read a quote about how the big Montana sky can shape your dreams, I tried focusing on the veiled southern sky. Even with my eyes shut, I knew the sky above matched the clear, chlorinated water below which appeared Carolina blue because of the pool’s painted marcite finish. Then unexpectedly, I began to feel a gentle, drizzle of rain on my skin.
Hesitantly, I slowly opened my eyes and witnessed a surprise sun shower. Raindrops skipped and danced on the pool’s surface water as the precipitation intensified. With each drop, as I got wetter and wetter, I began to feel an overwhelming sense of calm that my attempt at meditation did not bring me.
I felt safe, not because I knew the cloudburst was not a storm, but because thankfully, I was not in control. Absorbed in my effort to seek inspiration, I failed to remember that you cannot force moments of grace because divine blessings are gifts. While we can practice being mindful and attentive to the present moment, we cannot make those moments, and therefore, sometimes it is simply better to wait for wonder.
Glancing over the fence, I observed a mottled duck as he drifted onto the pond to welcome the downpour. Near the lanai stood St. Francis, dripping in his resin tunic, and opening his arms freely to welcome the rain as well as the birds that flocked toward him to feed. Even the American flag, hanging proudly on its pole, waved a greeting at the rain song.
As raindrops kept falling on my head, I began humming with B. J. Thomas, “… It won’t be long till happiness steps up to greet me…”
