the world is still beautiful

the world is still beautiful. but.

it's the tension of the opposites that gets me. it gets me in it's truth and poignancy. both and.

everything has changed, but so many things are actually the same- the sun rises, we love our kids, we can take sing or read or walk or pray, God is here.

but.

but for some people the line between enough and not enough is so thin that 'everything changes' means that very little is the same, at least not the same for long. when that line is thin- housing becomes an issue, food becomes an issue, health is an issue, life and death can become active issues.

how do we love our neighbor well in this? not just well, but right? what is the right way to love our neighbor is this?

in uganda things are getting tighter, closed businesses, closed transport, closed schools. the thin line becomes thinner.

and while i worry about this, i hear italians singing off their balconies together. lawyers learning to sew to make masks in the USA for the shortage, churches making runs to markets for older folks. people sharing their stories and their songs. reading to each other online. teaching each other online. giving resources for free. car companies coming together to make ventilators. the air being clear. dolphins come back to canals. regrowth. renewal. remembering.

are we rediscovering our shared humanity? are we rebuilding community in a deeper way? trauma and tragedy bind people together - like war. are we listening? seeing the mystery?

it reminds me of the buechner quote i love:
Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.

Grace.

grace. that is what it is. a divine gift. the world still being beautiful, and.