Worry

Sometimes I wake up, shortly after falling asleep, with my heart beating so fast I am convinced the entire earth is tumbling down. I lay on my fingers to still the shaking and think of all the horrible ways to die. It seems twisted that the only way I can calm myself after these nighttime horrors is to think of all the horrible ways to live. My fear of death or loss or loneliness or pain does nothing for tomorrow. It only empties today of its strength, as Corrie ten Boom says. And so I vow, again, to appreciate the slow, sleepy breath of my husband by my side, the colors that fill our room, the soft sound of rain, the smell of our pillows, and that violent beating of my heart that reminds me I love my life.

Passover

Passover

Then you shall take some of the blood, and put it on the door posts and the lintels of the houses . . .

and when I see the blood, I shall pass over you, and no plague shall fall upon you to destroy you, when I smite the land of Egypt.
-Exodus 12: 7 & 13

They thought they were safe
that spring night; when they daubed
the doorways with sacrificial blood.
To be sure, the angel of death
passed them over, but for what?

Forty years in the desert
without a home, without a bed,
following new laws to an unknown land.
Easier to have died in Egypt
or stayed there a slave, pretending
there was safety in the old familiar.

But the promise, from those first
naked days outside the garden,
is that there is no safety,
only the terrible blessing
of the journey. You were born
through a doorway marked in blood.
We are, all of us, passed over,
brushed in the night by terrible wings.

Ask that fierce presence,
whose imagination you hold.
God did not promise that we shall live,
but that we might, at last, glimpse the stars,
brilliant in the desert sky.

~ Lynn Ungar ~