December 12 & 13 Advent Gratitude
On Saturday, I finally did go out for my walk. I took my phone, a couple of podcasts, and headed down to the river. The sun was shining, and I listened gratefully to Vivian Sansour talk about heritage seeds in Palestine, and the link between food, farming and climate change on the amazing Mothers of Invention podcast, then listened to Krista Tippet interview Brian Stevenson of the Good Law Project, talking about the long narrative of American injustice and how to live with forgiveness, the motivating power of love and hope and how no one should be judged by their worst mistakes.
That was it for outdoor activity. On Sunday, we woke up to a very wet rain. In England, we have all kinds of rain; some of it is misty, some of it percussive and violent, some of it windy and slashing, some of it just wet — like on Sunday: steady, blobby, insistent, persistent.
I looked out my window; I saw two small people, one about three and one about two, in bright red and yellow rain gear and rubber boots, marching down the path. The younger one kept running to catch up with the older one, who marched ahead, throwing off the little hand that tried to catch a sleeve, to say, wait for me. I recognised that hand as much as I recognised that determined striding forward. I thought about how much of the human story there was in just that moment: our desire to connect, our need to be the boss.
Later on that evening, I got on the Zoom call to my American siblings. We teased each other; we gossiped about our children; we complimented our 91 year old mother whose lockdown, long white hair looks so good on her it could be a hipster fashion statement. We were once like those little wanderers in the park, loving each other, squabbling for power, forgiving each other for our hurts. Some of them were really cruel, and yet, too — how much we were intertwined with each other, how much we appreciate each other now.
This weekend I felt grateful to be part of the human story — one that contains the possibility of cruelty and indifference, but also, each day and in each lifetime, the chance to change the narrative, to forgive and to love.
