Serenity

Two Cups of Tea at Hope’s Cafe

Years ago, when I was the highest ranking person in the agency for whom I worked, the director position being vacant, I was put in charge of making the daily deposits. I looked forward to this task because the teller I could usually manage to get at the bank was the most serene, calming presence I had ever encountered. My mother worked in banking for decades. I know it was not necesssarily the easiest, most peaceful atmosphere. But this woman was positively beatific. She radiated peace. Standing there doing business did not seem like an appropriate time to engage in a conversation about her serenity. Truthfully, I became rather tongue-tied, so in awe I was. But I have thought of her so many times through the years.

Lately, I have found serenity hard to come by. Nights especially are awfully painful as my body seeks to heal from a quite extensive back surgery. Sometimes I read till I’m so exhausted that I sleep. Sometimes I go through all the French I can remember. Other times, I pull up all the scriptures I can recall and recite them in my head. I wish I had learned more poetry over the years. The one thing that brings me close to something resembling serenity is when I hold the wooden cross my now deceased brother and my sister-in-law gave me for my ordination. I become aware of so much beyond myself. I begin to pray for others whose needs I am aware of . I pray for others suffering pain and sleeplessness. I pray for healing and wholeness for them and for myself.

As much as I appreciated (and, yes, envied) the bank teller her peaceful presence, perhaps a more useful approach, is to pay more attention to the moments when we expand our awareness, as I have been able to do through prayer in the midst of pain. Suddenly my world is no longer about my pain alone, but I am connected to others, both known and unknown to me. And I think of other times when I simply am captured with awe by an unexpected gift of awareness. Nature is full of those.

Once I was driving home at dusk and a mama skunk and her babies were crossing the highway. With cars in both directions she placed herself vertically on the dividing line on the highway and gathered her babies underneath her body. I was transfixed, connected suddenly to these little lives. I sat there as did the car opposite me and we waited for her to safely cross with her little family. A few years ago, my husband and I sat with our grandsons on the balcony of their family’s apartment, watching the evening turn towards night, stars and planets beginning to show themselves. Young as they were, the boys could name all the planets and talked about the sky and what intrigued them. I felt so peaceful, so connected to them but also to all that is greater than ourselves.

P.S. I am still considering the future of the blog, wondering about a “vlog,” videoing a weekly piece or some combination. Right now, I’m focused on my recovery so decision-making is on hold!

The invitation is open to share “two cups of tea” anytime at Hope’s Café, or anywhere you share companionship and conversation.

May we be bearers of hope, the “wait staff” of Hope’s Café for each other and all those we encounter.  Shalom, Kate