I’m grateful for a gorgeous Friday morning on the balcony. I’m grateful for indications things are the way they’re supposed to be. I’m grateful that apparently no one else buys used classical records. I’m grateful to understand that the roiling I used to feel was me trying to hang onto what I wasn’t supposed to have. I’m grateful to be sober today.
That picture was taken yesterday (Thursday) morning. You can see what happens to the nets that I spoke so glowingly about just a few weeks ago. For whatever reason, that view, the torn net hanging there and everything, just captivated me. So much so, I was already getting my post-workout cappuccino and realized I really wanted to take that picture—so walked all the way back to the park to take it.
My friend Joe was still shooting, his official nickname and I call him this to his face, is “The Mayor,” because he does know just about everyone there and is constantly waving to people walking by on the East River Promenade, and was surprised to see me back because I had already completed my workout ending ritual.1His exact words were something like, “Why are you back?” I told him that I had wanted to take a picture and when he saw what the subject was, he had a very quizzical look on his fact, “why do you want a picture of that?” I realized that the explanation for that was pretty long and wasn’t going to actually clear much up for him, so I just shrugged my shoulders, smiled and said “stay groovy, baby—see you next time,” and walked away.2
Why did I want that picture? I got home and was doing some reading and came across this by S.E. Reid:
This really blew me away and helped bring a whole bunch of stuff together for me.3 It was yet another case of someone else coming out of nowhere and saying something that had a real impact on me. Of course, as I’m learning, the critical skill here is listening. I wish there was a spoken-word version of this because I thought it was really beautiful and I think I could listen to it a number of times:
This is a song of honesty, of reality, of a house working overtime to shelter two hardworking humans and one very loyal animal. For the parts of life that aren’t very poetic, that don’t fit into a photo or a witty little post. For the parts of life we crop out. For the parts of life we hide when visitors come around.
God hides there. In the cracks, the crevices, the corners.
God peeks from under the laundry, from around the pile of dirty dishes, dangling from the cobwebs. He does not despise the dog hair. He is not bothered by dust.
Only Someone that almighty, that magnificent, can make Himself small enough to ride our exhaled breath, each deep sigh. Impossibly grand. Impossibly intimate. A God not unfamiliar with dirt and grime, with dust and splinters. A God who blessed our broken, fallen realities, and filled them with abundance.
S.E. Reid, “An Untidy Hymn”
I guess it’s easy to feel a sense of God’s magnificence when you’re looking at a mountain vista or the ocean, but I do feel God’s presence more powerfully around the imperfect, the messy, the sort-of broken, the untidy.4 I love:
God hides there. In the cracks, the crevices, the corners.
I wrote about my conception of God a few weeks ago and one of the things I'm thinking a lot about these day is that maybe God isn't omnipotent, maybe God can't fix everything. I do believe God can help me get to the right spot, set me up in the count for the perfect pitch, but I'm the one who has the responsibility for execution, for putting wood on the ball. God is everywhere I need to find God, but I realize that God does appreciate the effort and messes and mistakes are the consequences of effort.
I do think God is especially present in the imperfect and I think that’s what so powerful about “An Untidy Hymn.” God doesn’t abhor the messes and that is pretty good news because the messes represent both the lessons and the work and I think God thinks both of those are pretty important. You can’t make omelettes without cracking eggs? To be sure, there is nothing like shooting at a new net in a shiny, clean gym, but it’s still pretty sweet the way that nearly-shredded net whooshes when you make that shot from the corner. I do get the feeling that God thinks so, too.
I almost forgot—here are the Liner Notes for Episode 21:
Stay Groovy and Happy Friday5,
Thanks for Letting Me Share
A made 3-pointer followed by two made free throws, miss the free throws and start over. Yeah, a little harsh, but I don’t make the rules.
I really do say stuff like that in real life. It’s called authenticity and people like Brene Brown think that kind of stuff is really important.
You can check all of the timestamps if you want to.
I am going to break ranks on the dog hair thing. Maybe God doesn’t “despise” it, but no one, not even dogs like dog hair. That’s why they shed so much of it. Sorry, it seems like a design flaw.
As a friendly reminder, it would be great if you could hold off on drinking or using for 24 hours after reading this.
I read “An Untidy Hymn” yesterday, too, and felt its power. An audio version does sound deliciously comforting!
Happy I found you here! Shout-out to Office Hours.