Beautifully In Ruins

A North Syracuse Airforce base church sits quietly in the sunlight.

Ten minutes prior to the rhythmic clatter of these keyboard keys, a moment rushed over my body with a swelling force I could not resist. A kitchen dimly lit hosted a train station mentality with the desire to just leave it all on the platforms and just glide across miles of steel sidewalks to a new escape. The click of the stove igniter met a stream of propane and plotted to stir the water to a dance within a well-used kettle. The faint sound of the racing flames echoed in ears so willing for them to echo. A comfortable mug, now washed, sits carelessly on the edge of the counter waiting with chai tea in its stomach. Water beads roll off the bottom of the freshly cleansed mug and splatter with beauty on a tin that has made its bed in a floor-residing recycling bin. My feet wandered to a door frame corner and I finally collapse in exhaustion. One weighted sigh scraped the dull blue trim of the door frame as it fell to the floor while my knit hat covered forehead remained pressed in the corner. Over my shoulder, a single refrigerator chimed in with a hum, that in that moment could have been mistaken with one thousand refrigerators or about ten thousand mini fridges. The day has proved itself to be trying and though cut off at every corner, a smile can still be found in the simplicity of letting go. With that singular sigh, I dropped the weight of my soul and the bitter tone that did reside on my tongue. If I could swear to you with a higher value than that of my words, I heard my cares shatter as they met the hardwood floor. Thankfulness warmed my chest and I gave praise to my Healer for the very blessing of my life, along with the overwhelming blessings that are carried to my feet day in and day out.

There are days that wear our skin thin and expose our muscles to the cold air of winter. We tense up and find that we’ve been robbed of mobility by a day light thief. In this instance, I am speaking by not what I have seen, but what I have known. Days grow tiresome and the second-hand gives no regard to the master hour and the task he has been given to keep; time stops. In these moments of fragility, let time stop and let go of your worries. Speak them to the air and watch them sink to the earth! Our time is meant for so much more than we allow it to be and these moments that Worry controls, are void of substance. Just go make some tea and find a corner to exhale the heavy breaths.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s