Thursday, April 14, 2022

            I am not a regular churchgoer, nor do I consider myself strictly a Christian, but during the days leading up to the celebration of Easter, I am always struck by what Jesus said in forgiving his enemies. He said he forgave them because “they don’t know what they are doing”, and when I read those words, I usually say to myself, “Yup, and neither do I.” I do hundreds of things each day, from walking around the house and yard to setting words into sentences on this computer screen, and, honestly, I usually haven’t a clue as to exactly what I’m doing. Life, to me, becomes more of a mystery with each passing day, and I often feel quite befuddled by what’s happening. When I walk, for instance, what exactly are my muscles and bones and brain doing that enables me to move so efficiently? We use the word “walking” to conveniently label the activity, but that doesn’t begin to describe the inconceivable complexity of it. And when I write, do I honestly have any clear idea what I’m doing? I like to pretend that I do, but in truth, the words seem to settle themselves across the computer screen in their own strange ways, with little help from me. The sentences sometimes seem clear, but I’m not at all sure how it happens. Actually, I guess something similar could be said about most of my life. I often feel like I’m living in the midst of a vast and generous (though not always happy) mystery, something like an endless rising of rainbows, or a continuous string of surprising sunsets. I could pause in amazement almost every moment of every day. Do I know what I’m doing, any more than the enemies of Jesus did? Usually not a bit. I just try to keep up with the spectacular show, and hope I’m no one’s enemy. 

Some scenes from our recent walks …

And Delycia’s lovely early-spring blossoms …

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