It Keeps Ringing...

In my mind… it just keeps ringing like a friendly reminder to do something.

I keep telling myself that I will look it up, and I will remind myself - but then there is homeschool, and laundry and fear, and well… everything.

I mean, I feel pretty safe, it’s just fear of what’s next. Still I just don’t find the time to go and remember… because - I have things to do, right?

But today, it just kept ringing in my mind, and -

Well, then a note from a dear friend reminded me that - it was important…

and then, a phone call with a dear friend did the same thing.

So I just stopped.

I navigated in a honing manner, trying to remember where my one physical copy of the book I wrote was located. And fortunately, I found this book rather quickly.

Then I just had to find the one sentence that continued to ring in my ear.

Most of the book is a spiritual and physical journey of isolation, when I was 11 - for my bone-marrow transplant. It was 3 months of strict isolation, with masks, and gloves and constant sanitizing, There was life and death and physical distancing. I could only see my brother and sister behind a glass window. My parents were allowed in the room but only with masks for awhile.

So then I wondered, how long would it take to find this sentence? And I worried, was I wasting my time, could I even find this sentence?

But there it was, on page 11, nonetheless.

maybe I needed to believe

that the walls which held me in

would one day let me go…

In some ways I feel primed for isolation… I missed 56 days of school in the 4th grade, 78 days in the 5th grade and I missed all of 6th grade. I didn’t have a tutor because I was too sick. I was an avid student but still I joined my class in the 7th grade. It all happened. So I feel like there is hope for all of us homeschooling.

This time feels surreal and also familiar.

the isolation of the bone-marrow transplant room provided the space for me to appreciate the depth of a single moment. The room was white and spacious, with a heavy wooden door. I looked through two windows to a sanitation wash room. In front of my bed was a large, white shelf unit with a television. To the right of the bed was a nightstand as well as a window with a window seat, where my mom slept for three months. The room was a paradox of simple complexity as its purpose gave the room another dimension. Doctors can save lives in ordinary rooms.

In some ways , I am always leaving this room. But now, being back in isolation… I am remembering. I’m not exactly sure what it is - its spiritual, yes.

I was right at that threshold, and I left it, I just need to remember why. What was I sent back to do? What is my purpose? I feel like we are all considering these clarities.

What are our values, what is our mission, what is our purpose?

And also, I had no fear. At the edge of life there is no fear. I remember that. I do remember that. And while it shows up now… I am remembering that those walls did let me go. We will be let go… so remember these moments… your soul will.

Remember what your soul is calling you to do. And enter that deep prayer. Take that step.

AMEN.