...it will be more glorious because of the waiting...
Approach the page. Lift the words as you would a broom, one that has become a sacred vessel, more necessary for your journey than the expensive, decorative item sitting on your shelf. I use the broom. I use the Word.
For me, beauty can only be found in the functional. I think of Shug talking to Miss Celie in The Color Purple. It stuck with me when I first heard it as a ten year old, what she said, and I thought about it today driving down 34 to my mom's house to be present to something I needed to make right. "You know what, Miss Celie? I think it pisses God off when we walk by the color purple without noticing it."
Now, dear reader, don't be thrown off by the language here. I think Shug says it this way for a reason. Sometimes, and I find myself doing this, we turn a fancy phrase or couch something simple in big words in order to poof it up, make it more beautiful. I don't think Alice Walker wanted to do this to a statement that means so much to her, and I'd like to learn a little more of this courage, too.
Like the other night when Nora walked in and said, "I get all of my wisdom from my heart." Simple as that. No explanation needed. She moved me. And that's what good language does. It MOVES us. As in, it repositions us in such a way that we become more in tune, more attuned to the moment of presence in which we find ourselves.
For example, the color purple. I don't know about God getting angry when we don't notice the beautiful things being grown out there by that divine Love. I think it has more to do with saying, "You want life abundant? Well, take a look around you. There you go. Purple. Stop your belly-aching and get to paying attention. You have everything you need. Now what are you going to do with it, and who are you going to give it to in return?" (Or "to whom are you going to give it." More fancy talk. Don't let the technicalities stand in the way of your saying it.)
Then I start to think about the "purple" things in my life:
Nora's wisdom late at night.
Tom's willingness to carry me over my own storms.
Mom's honesty when I'm being stubborn and selfish.
My sister's potato salad.
The honest tears in my stepdad's eyes.
The words I write after a couple weeks of contemplation, afraid I couldn't "capture" it. (Oh, forgive me for my inclination toward ownership of anything these hands are given to make.)
The broom (fill in the blank with anything you used today to move your life along) I use, the sacred vessel, that helps me along on this journey.
I think my prayer is something like this tonight: Help me recognize those people, the colors, the sounds, the small and everyday objects that assist me on this human voyage. Help me see beyond the way they assist me alone, so I might remember the Purpose of All Gifts Given by the One with the most Generous Spirit, to return to the world its own lost heart. Let me be a part of this movement. Continue to teach me how to be loved and how to love.