Peace, my friend

Caretaker of my soul

Be gentle with me

For I am tender and tired

Battered with the bruises

Of life and loss and love.

My pastor, Sarah L. Kerkes, wrote these words in a collection of published poems, Terra Incognita. They resonated with me today especially as I caught myself sighing over and over throughout the day. Long, deep sighs. 

At first I attributed this to just plain being busy. It happens whenever we relocate from Minnesota to Arizona for the winter months. Leaving our condo is a matter of turning the key and walking out the door. But arriving in Arizona means much to do. The summer desert dust has settled into all the nooks and crannies of our park model, coating all surfaces, windows and sills. Unpacking, restocking cupboards, cleaning and getting reestablished consumes many hours.

But that wasn't the reason for my sighs. 

We heard about coronavirus fatigue. Dr. Anthony Fauci coined the phrase in his CBS 60 Minute interview last Sunday, saying people are noticeably fatigued by the lockdowns, layoffs, shortages, descension into poverty. isolation, lack of socialization, and on and on.

Well, okay, I fall into that category just a very wee bit, knowing full well I am blessed abundantly by only suffering a little bit from lack of socialization. An introvert, this is very little, I might add. 

But it's not solely coronavirus fatigue. It's political campaign fatigue, unrelenting news of racism and white supremacy fatigue, arguments over a Supreme Court nominee fatigue, approaching a 75th birthday fatigue, once again being too far away from my grandchildren fatigue, the recent loss of my brother-in-law fatigue, and my hair graying fatigue.

And I know we all feel a bit of fatigue these days, for some of the reasons listed above and some not listed that are personal to you. I suspect there are many deep sighs out there. 

The poem implores God, caretaker of our souls, to grant us gentleness of spirit. It is gentleness we need right now, a quieting of voices, a hushing of shouts. Gentleness along with understanding to end hatred and violence, and the turning against each other. 

My friend recently gifted me with this lovely stitching made by her hands. I note that she is on the most opposite end of the political spectrum from me. We have had a few spirited discussions, but all with respect. I cherish her and as I look at her gift to me, my heart quiets.

 

When we dwell on love, don't you think our sighs contain less angst? Don't they seem to be made sweeter somehow?

So peace be with you, my friend. Go gently and sigh sweetly.

Thank you for listening to my random thoughts. And if you would like to join as a "follower" I would be thrilled.

Heaven and Earth

When I was in high school music class, we learned about singing in rounds. You know, like Row, row, row your boat and Make new friends but keep the old. 

We were introduced to a variety of multicultural rounds, one being a Jewish round, typically sung by children: David melech Yisrael, chai chai vekayam. It is a simple song consisting of only five words. 

The Hebrew translation to English remains simple as well:

            David David (is) king of Israel,
            David David (is) king of Israel
            David (is) king of Israel living and existing.
            Alive, living and existing
            David (is) king of Israel
            Alive, living and existing - king of Israel. 

Another was a German folk song sung in a two-part round. Himmel und erde. Roughly translated, it means something like: Heaven and earth shall pass away, but the music will never die. 

            All things shall perish from under the sky
            Music alone shall live, music alone shall live
            Music alone shall live, never to die.

These little songs stayed in my head until they were drowned out by Wake Up, Little Susie and Love Me Tender. I am very fickle when it comes to music. Basically I love all genres. (That excludes rap which is noise, not music.)

Summertime came and with it, our annual family vacation which consisted of an 8-hour car trip to visit Grandpa and Grandma on their farm in South Dakota.  For Dad it meant solo driving, for Mom it meant previous days of packing for eight. For six squirmy children - not me, of course - it meant a very long car ride crowded in the back of our Rambler station wagon. When boredom set in and the bickering started among my little sisters - all four of them - I decided to teach them these two little songs so we could sing them together in rounds.  

To my surprise, they were not only cooperative but enjoyed the singing and learned the songs quickly. The time in the Rambler passed in a much more pleasant manner.

Fast forward to 1994 as we planned our parents' 50th wedding anniversary dinner. We decided as part of the program, we'd bring back the memory of those long summer trips by singing the two little rounds. We laughed at the recollection of it, Mom and Dad loved it, and we've talked about it since. 

I don't think we will ever get those little folk songs out of our heads. Their memories serve us well.