The clock tells me it’s morning, still the small lamp in the living room flickers off, then on, as if the auto-sensor can’t decide. I know the feeling. Oddly, a Sven and Ole joke pops into my head. Sven was having a problem with his directional signal, so he asked Ole to go behind the car to see if it was working. He started the engine, engaged the left turn signal, then shouted, “Ole, is it vorking?”
Ole replied,”Yes. No. Yes. No.”
So, back to morning at the perch. It yawns, stretches its light to reveal marsh, sea and a few beach walkers exercising more than rights. However, if you lower your sights, you’ll notice fault lines gouged into the rocky ledge, just outside my window. They’re scars left behind after explosives dug spaces into which to plant condos. My Perch rests between a rock and a hard place. Really. Until recently, I never gave much thought to earth’s scars, just mine and a predictable circle of family and friends. The pandemic’s broadened my care.
To a lesser degree, prolonged sheltering in place contributed to other changes. For example, I’ve stopped wearing a watch, filling in calendars and getting haircuts. As Sire supposedly said when asked about the weather, “It doesn’t matter. You aren’t going anywhere.”
Since I’m not going anywhere soon, I travel through books. I love a good mystery and Louise Penny delivers. Yesterday, I reluctantly finished Penny’s, A Great Reckoning. Lines like these bid me travel from the cracks in rocks outside my window to fault lines within me.
“Things are strongest where they’re broken,” said Commander Gamache.”
“We are a crowd of faults. But know this, there is always a road back. If we have the courage to look for it and take it. I’m sorry. I was wrong. I don’t know. I need help. Those are the signposts.”
In another book Jeremiah wrote, “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls…”(Jeremiah 6:16a, NIV)
Yes or no?
This story has been viewed 48 times3 people HEART this story