Maybe this will never be posted, but I sit here needing to write. It's just after 3am, sunday morning. Almost an hour ago, I was woken up by a loud fight outside my bedroom window. Then it was words, loud angry, unreasonable. I sat parylized, listening, somehow afraid the fight was going to come get me if I was noticed, going over in my half sleep calling the police, then feeling sure that if I did, the fighters would know it was me and come to my house and kill me. This is the trouble. Eventually, a car drove away and all I heard were the voices that seemed to be trying to get along. What got me was how scared I was even to call the police. That I was frozen as if a large animal were lunging at me just because I heard yelling and anger accross the street. By this time, I couldn't see calling the cops as being helpful, since the trouble seemed to have left. So I went to the prayer room and said The Long Healing Prayer. I'd started to say it earlier, while waiting for Grandma to let me know she was on her way to our house and Matthew and I could go to the Race Unity potluck. I started to say it for the healing of all the wounds racism has caused, and remembered how I spent 6 months saying it everyday, often asking God to accept it for the healing of racism and creating of human friendship easily between black and white in America. As we get out of debt, settle more in our new home, see David home more, that year of prayer and healing is coming back. I picked two white roses 2 nights back. From the flowers next to the house. Bahiyyih must have planted them another year and now they are ours to enjoy. How I found myself saying the Long Healing Prayer again, for race unity. Maybe I'll share the story of white roses here sometime. It's signifigant and full of wonder. Listening to the crickets and the dark, I have no great insight, neither do I seem to care if this entry makes sense to anyone but me. That's fine. Obviously some action is needed. What exactly in the next week I don't know. I carry this beautiful vision of friendships, supportive, loving, respectful friendships growing up all over C-U between black and white people of different classes and education. Just like people can do when they look at eachother and see beauty.
It's the end of the same day and I'm challenging myself to write something even if I do carry a vague feeling of the day sitting around my shoulders. It was a good day. Productive. 3 days of dishes washed, a wardrobe moved, kids properly fed, porch cleared out and straightened up, a short craft project on the porch that was a favorite at camp that Devyn would like to continue at home and a not so fruitful bit of shopping around for materials. Tomorrow, Hobby Lobby. Then we'll make those beautiful colored "sand" scenes in a bottle. I loved those when I was a little girl. I still love them. New cell phone arrived today, all activated now. I care to remember how peaceful it's been not having it with me these few days and so keep it home as often as I can deem reasonable, which is a lot more than I did before the last one's charging feature died. A snack before bed and read more of Farmer Boy. A kind end to a day.
Other than this, not much am I thinking. I am trying to not think, to be instead and see what thoughts come. Find out what wonder is available and smile when the sweet memory or realization that guides me to a next step comes.
Good night Baha'u'llah. Thank You.
It's 8:16am Thursday. Normally I would get dressed by now, have the kids shakes made, checked messages, called David and brushed my hair. But I've decided to do it wrong today. To start with writing right after prayers, with only my shake made. I started prayers while clipping the bushy entry way to our sidewalk, instead of sitting quietly in our prayer room. I know that prayer manifests as truly in action, but to practice it during a time I normally sit still, eyes closed, to recite the Divine verses...this felt a little daring, then beautiful, then I knew it was right. I've tried to sit down several times and write during this long absence, but the day so far crowds around my eyes, jams up my fingers, and even if I am not being called to assist another, I am listening, or hearing while someone else tends our loved ones. So I am here. Checking in sort of. Again, it's time to get up and prepare for the day on my feet. Happy for the chance to even write a few lines. Good morning Baha'u'llah! Thank You.