To Do or Be
Every morning the first thing I do before my feet slide onto my fluffy rug is talk with God. I ask for help and acknowledge God’s goodness to me. I recognize the sound of grinding coffee and pat my dog on his easy chair on the way to the kitchen. Yes, Joey has his own easy chair. Don’t judge.
The robust aroma of earthy coffee slinks up my nose as the creamy liquid slides down my throat. I discuss with my husband what’s on the agenda for the day. Another day slips by me with each silent click of the digital clock.
My conversation with God is ongoing. The questions I ask are laid out. I am like God’s pesky child. Why? When? How? Maybe today? Mystery surrounds God. Grace surrounds me. I am loved.
I don’t want to do anything. I want to be the person I am. I grow to fit the suit tailored for Annie Pauli. Imago Dei. I’m being “born again.” A writer, a poet, a gardener, a friend. I’ll eat an epiphany for lunch. I’ll have a muse for a snack.
The fragrance of wet leather and soil permeate my skin. The welder’s gloves I bought in Washington are faded yellow and stretched like loose skin. The deeper purple patches on my arms are a warning to pull them up.
I pull up a chair for a friend in my garden, so we can share our hearts under shade sails with hummingbirds and butterflies while we savor a buckwheat plum tart or lemon almond cake from Wide Eyes Open Palms coffee shop. We lick our fingers and are satisfied. Both stomach and soul.
My neighbor, a tiny wisp of a person, introduced herself as Annie. She approached us in front of our house while we were doing some landscaping today.
“That’s my name.” I said.
“Well, my other name is Aree, a-r-e-e, so you can call me that.” She tipped her head and peered up from under her straw hat. Her mouth opened like a baby bird. She waved before flitting down the sidewalk towards home.
She said to Dav and me one day as we walked by, “I am so afraid to leave my house or go anywhere. So many Asians are being attacked.”
“I’m so sorry. You are an American and you don’t deserve that.” Her body relaxed.
Getting to know my neighbors is my goal and that was satisfying.
Beatitudes n. a state of great joy, being blessed or at least feeling blessed. I am blessed.
I have hope that all things will be renewed because Someone who knows everything said so. I have learned that my importance is not in what I do but in who I am and if I’m wearing my suit well I will do just what I’m meant to do every day. Hope opens my curtains to a new day.