Words That Have Wings

As I turn away from the latest news, the colors of my emotions run together, a bleed of sorts. I don't think I have a band-aid big enough. With a deep sigh that leaps across our cul-de-sac, I say the only two words that make any sense right now.  Help. Please.

Reaching across the vast expanse of my worry and doubt, I ask my invisible friend to once again, as if I were five and just woke up from a super scary dream, the kind that leaves you shaky and sweaty, to take my hand and whisper assurances. Is it still well with my soul? Clinging to His right hand, I feel a gentle squeeze. But I need to know that people won't starve, that my grandchildren will learn big, bright and true things in school. I need to know that You are in the detention centers, and Your heart is beating hard and wild for all the immigrants snatched away by masked agents cloaked in counterfeit righteousness. That Your furious love is blanketing all the families torn apart, that some if not all will be reunited. My lament takes a weary breath. A lone tear falls on my lap, a drop of sadness leaves a wet circle, and I don't know whose tear it is. 

My soul is bruised and hurting, and it all seems too much to carry. Leaning toward the only One that eases this overwhelming burden, I whisper into the heart of my invisible friend. You too, you too, you get it, you understand better than anyone the hurts and bruises. Will you take my bleeding emotions, my fears and worries? I can be kinder and do good and holy things without clinging to them like worry beads. The shoulders relax an inch and the air around us breathes quieter.

Please tell me that we can still be helpers to those in need in other countries, that our backs will turn around from greed toward empathy and love, toward sharing and caring. You taught us that right? My grip relaxes a wee bit. I need to know that minds and hearts will change, that love, grace, kindness, and justice will have the victory, a landslide win over greed, cruelty, and hate. A breath of heaven brushes my angst, softens the anxiety. Hope hugs my heart, like an engagement ring glistening bright.

Out our window I study a ruby-throated hummingbird, my favorite, taking its fill at the feeder. I soak in this moment, watching this tiny, beautiful creature that weighs like a penny, flicking its tongue oh so quickly. As an act of defiance against the darkness, I stand and watch, savoring the never- to- repeat moment. Is this how to move forward?  How to live in the in-between time, to nourish the body and soul. How to shout out against hate and injustice. Little acts of rebellion that tickle the heart. Prayer, lavishing love on others, spilling kindness like rainbow sprinkles, yes especially rainbow. And make creative protest signs, carry them high with hopeful, expectant hands. A warrior of joy.

It comes to me then, a hymn of sorts, words that have wings, strong words of courage, tall words, words that reach up with deep life within them. Words that rise into the heavens and the heavens answer with an imperceptible nod. 

Seek justice, love mercy, walk humbly with your God.

I open the window, a sigh of contentment floats toward the hummingbird, and all the birds in the yard, they sing sweet, their carefree melody trilling like they already know the words and are waiting patiently for the world to sing along.

I whisper a thanks to Jesus for showing up during my teensy meltdown. And I turn my attention back to the birds of the air. A rebellious grandma, for the moment anyway.