Starting close in

Daily Devotion - April 24

I will send a brief message each day (except Mondays)
while we are pausing gathering in person.
- Kara

This poem is speaking to me this week:

“Start Close In”

by David Whyte

Start close in,
 

don't take the second step

or the third,

start with the first

thing

close in,

the step you don't want to take.

Start with

the ground

you know,

the pale ground

beneath your feet,

your own

way of starting

the conversation.

Start with your own

question,

give up on other

people's questions,

don't let them

smother something

simple.

To find

another's voice

follow

your own voice,

wait until

that voice

becomes a

private ear

listening

to another.

Start right now

take a small step

you can call your own

don't follow

someone else's

heroics, be humble

and focused,

start close in,

don't mistake

that other

for your own.

Start close in,

don't take the second step

or the third,

start with the first

thing

close in,

the step you don't want to take.

Close in for me today has looked like realizing the big project won't get done by the deadline, that life right now is a series of interruptions, and tending those interruptions is as important as the thing I thought was the the thing. 

It has looked like more waves of tears and heartbreak, cancellations and questions, goodbyes thwarted and closure averted, and the phrase, "Yes, this is really hard," as the mantra that doesn't ever seem to not be the only right thing to say.

It has looked like a car ride with the dog ears and kid ponytail flapping in the wind, giant grins flashing at the sun.

It's been a raucous carwash - have I ever really watched each part? - and the joy of watching the girl watching the dog watching the suds.

It has been a phone call with my Grandma, who got the Postem I sent, remembering her stories of drinking it during the war, and hearing about my uncle's coming to terms with ending treatment and accepting death, and how she wishes she could go down to Georgia and get her hair done.

It has looked like the creep of exhaustion, and the deliberate and not easy choice toward nourishing food, and the spirit-lifting meeting of a stranger who sewed us handmade masks - washed, dried, scented with essential oils and sealed in plastic.  

And the day is only half over. 

I know no other way right now, than to start close in.

Close in is all we have.

The choices we have right in front of us - not the ones way out there, in the future, not the ones other people are making or not making.

Just this. Just now. Starting close in.

CONNECTING RITUAL:

Perhaps, tonight before we go to bed, whatever time that is in each of our homes, we might pause, reflect, and pray in this way, and so join our hearts:

A litany of recognition...

It can feel like all our control is gone. We used to have so many choices, and we took them for granted.  Now we are limited.  But still - we make choices, all day.

Why not reflect for a minute on the choices you made today?

Some you're proud of; some you regret.  This is not about judging between good and bad choices; it's about receiving the gift of having choices and making choices.

Eg., Today I chose to eat ___ for breakfast... 

Today I chose to/not to shower...

Today I chose to look at/read/watch this...

Today I chose to listen to my body's need for rest...

Today I chose to numb myself to the barrage of feelings...

Today I chose to turn my face to the sun... etc.

Closing prayer: 

Thank you, God, for the gift of life. 

Thank you God for this life.

Thank you for my life.

Thank you, God, for this day.

Thank you for the gift of this day.

Amen.