I’m sitting at our little dining room table in our little one-bedroom apartment on a seventh floor in a high-rise in Northern Virginia, looking out the window. I can see it’s going to be a beautiful day.
The sky is blue with just a hint of clouds. The sun is shining on the rich foliage that lines the horizon. Birds are chirping happily in the 70-degree air.
I’m supposed to be reading Social Justice in Clinical Practice—research for a book proposal. But the view outside the window is making it hard for me to focus.
For the beauty of the earth. For the beauty of the skies.
My daughter, Rebecka, wrote an inspiring post about loss, love, and mindfulness yesterday. I read it out loud to Todd between episodes of The Americans last night. It moved us. I read it again this morning and was struck by the maturity of the message.
Folliott S. Pierpoint was 29 years old when he wrote the beloved hymn for which this post is named. Not quite a youth, but also not even close to middle aged. Our young people have more wisdom than we know. Than we give them credit for.
For the Love which from our birth. Over and around us lies.
Love and loss seem to go together. Loss and love. If we don’t love, we can’t lose. But we do love. We love family, friends, heroes, pets… And sometimes we lose one of these precious spirits. And it hurts.
This Love that is over and around us. It is in the trees and the sky and the birds and the rivers and oceans and lakes. In everything that is nature. We lose parts of nature every day. And it hurts.
“Take a breath, say a prayer, hug a friend, go outside,” Rebecka urges. Appreciate what we have. Take care of each other. Slow down.
Raise a hymn of grateful praise.
I get so easily bogged down with worrying about all the things that are wrong in our world—all that is lost. Certainly, a lot of things must improve. But there is also so much beauty. So much good.
Dining room window, Rebecka, and Folliot, thanks for the reminders. I can go back to work now. (And when I’m done, I’ll pick up the guitar for a little one-person hymn sing, go outside, and say a prayer.)