New Day Rising

Easter 2014 17:32

This morning Ali and I woke up fairly early for a Sunday, say about 5:15, put on our clothes and headed out to Cedar Beach to attend Easter sunrise service.  When we approached I was surprised by the number of cars which were parked neatly in rows, which is a common sight for the summer at the beach, but assuming as I did; there will not be many of us, I was pleasantly surprised.  Reverend Diane and the other minister from another local church greeted us and turned to watch the sun cast its gentle light on the morning water.  The sky was glowing.  The service began.  We sang Cat Stevens or as he is known today, Yusuf Islam, Morning has broken.  Jeff had his acoustic guitar and Jamie from the choir led the small crowd which sang in broken harmonies in the early morning winds…we have begun.  A new day is here.  A call for us to transform from our darkness like Jesus did, bringing us life everlasting.  And I prayed for Amanda up in Boston, since this is the day before the Boston Marathon and just over a year from the bombings.  Lord bestows peace.  The city shakes off the fear and remains united.  I thought of Husker Du and one of my favorite albums, New Day Rising as well as the song. I prayed this morning for my friends who are suffering from their own conflicts and lack of love and rubbed Ali’s back, grateful she was there with me.  It’s Easter and we can change from our ways and make a new start, not just for Easter but in this season as long as we are open to be transformed.  When we came home, Ali went back to sleep since she did not sleep well last night.  I read my daily chapter, today it was Romans chapter 12 which contains the following verse (2) “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God – what is good and acceptable and perfect.”  I have a post- it- note on my desk which is from the Danish philosopher, Soren Kierkegaard, “What I really need is to get clear of what I must do, not what I must know except insofar that knowledge must precede every act.  What matters in to find a purpose, to see what it really is that God wills that I do, the crucial thing is to find a truth which is truth for me…” May this season, bring blessings to you and your family and may we all find what God wills us to do - with compassionate hearts.

Crossing the finish line in Boston

7/20/13 09:07 Home

I was in Boston this past week for a trade show.  I drove up with Amanda, took the ferry across the Long Island Sound.  It was a scorcher this past week and all of us can complain about the heat, but then the reality hits us.  It’s July and we need to stop whining because in a few months, no…in a few weeks we might complain of the dead leaves on the trees.  But it’s still hot.  We went up to the deck on the ferry and there was a breeze over the calm waters.  I recalled picking Amanda up at Simmons and bringing her home.  It was a quiet ride for most of the trip, so soon after the bombing.  There was the thought what will her reaction be?  She was excited to go back to see her friend.  But I knew there was the anxiety she was not sharing or attempting to not give too much attention to.  The plan was for her to spend Tuesday night with her friend Lindsey while I hung out with Katie and Ben.   After a couple of hours out of Bridgeport we pulled into the city.  I need to add, there was an altercation with an attendant at a gas station.  Beware of the belligerence of this Sarah off 95 in a small Connecticut town - Wethersfield.  The dim child switched my order with another, tried to tell me to stop the guy on three from pumping.  You need to go out there!  Tell him to stop pumping your gas!  What?  How? But you said pump three…blame the customer.  When I said I would complain to the manager she said go ahead, he told me I could say whatever I wanted to a customer.  There’s customer service for you; from the manager down.   I said, I’d call the district manager and complain about you both! The positive out of this was that I did not use any foul language or call her the ignoramus she is.  After driving away I thought better of what occurred.  It was obvious she was not all there and this was the only job the poor dim dunce could occupy.  Ben is doing well, working for a NASA project at MIT…he received his doctorate from Harvard this past June and the three of shared a delicious dinner at The Kitchen in Boston’s South side on Tremont Avenue. The neighborhood was once a dangerous area for most to enter - just ten years before.  While we ate outside; it drizzled lightly.  The scent of the steam rising off the concrete made the double burger with cheese more delectable.  I had two beers from the oldest brewery in the world, Weihenstephan served in cooled metallic steins…Ben referred to them in their native tongue.  After dessert I headed back to the hotel in Copley square and called it a night.  Next morning, I walked seven blocks in the furnace to the hotel where the trade show was.  I arrived sweaty and damp and knew I should have taken a taxi.  Later that night Amanda and I ate in the concierge lounge, I had two Harpoon IPA’s.  We walked down to Newbury St for a veggie burger and a shake.  On the way back to the hotel we walked on Boylston Street where the bombings occurred.    The architecture stood out from the new footage of the blasts, the store fronts, all of them and the people who mingled about with their meals, stifled in the heat and haze. Did they consider the screams and where are the blood stains? The closed store which took a direct hit and we walked down to where the yellow mark for the finish line is.  This is Boston strong.  I took a picture of Amanda.  She doesn’t look happy since even a couple of months later the memories crept up , she didn’t sleep very well although I remember her looking out the window at the Prudential building and listened as she said she loved Boston so much.  The next morning I ran in the humidity, the ninety degrees and wanted to pass the stores we walked by the night before.  I wanted my sneakers to smack the concrete.  I passed the press vans who were lined us trying to get quotes since the new tangled story way back last week was the controversial cover of Rolling Stone.  And I admit I wanted to say how great this country is. We can have freedom of speech, freedom of press and can have a publisher far off without a care of the victims, who had the insensitivity to print a picture of a passive faced killer… who appeared stoned for the camera…and I thought back to the dinner I had with Katie and Ben and how they described the city soon after the bombings, a police state and both woke up with the onslaught of gun shots since they live in Watertown.  Ben opened up since he said he could not sleep for days, was it nerves or adrenalin?   Machines and cords, a homeless man asking what was going on?   I passed cameraman; poised behind their anonymous glorious machines sucking the life out of the faces and the voices captured pent up emotions that spilled on the screen.  We survive…we turn off the TV and can’t see the covers since they are banned in many stores …freedom…and just as well since we should all judge a book or a magazine by its cover instead of searching for the truth.  Who gives a shit about the cover?  We ignore the victims.  There are countless emotional scars and those souls who lost their loves and those who lost limbs and those who suffer PTS.  No matter how much time passes their scars will rise up whenever a reference is made and we can only sit there, listen and sympathize.