Passing the baton...

“Realization may come at the speed of light, 

Clarity? It comes at the speed of dark…”

- anonymous

It was early in the day.  She stood at the window, as she did every morning, in every season, staring at Lake Ontario.  The hot tea in her cup, only slightly sipped, cooling on the windowsill to her side.  She could easily have been a sentry on early morning watch, straining at the horizon for any movement, any clue to impending danger.

She wasn’t, of course, she was simply Martha Jackson, preparing for the day as she did with clocklike precision every morning…No, she was more than that, she was my grandmother – “Nana” – an austere and mysterious woman, built like a Slavic factory worker, as combative as a human being could be…and as gentle as a lioness tenderly watching over her pride.

It was the time of day when she gathered herself, the time of day she considered what she expected was coming, the time of day she would humbly ask God to forgive her for the sins of the days gone by.  No priestly confession…she was, after all, a Protestant.  Her confessor the Almighty, and as she knew in her heart – like the rest of the world – the list was long. 

This, of course, was a mystery to me.  All I saw was the woman staring out the widow, apparently catatonic…an almost palpable bubble surrounding her, loudly proclaiming: DO NOT DISTURB!

I never saw her at the beginning of this morning routine…5AM, in those days, seemed unnatural.  The summer I lived with her and got ready for work, I would catch her toward the 6 O’clock hour as she ‘returned’ to the window from whence she had begun her early morning journey…her face and spirit serene. 

I didn’t understand why she did this, I mean, what was there to see?  There appeared to be nothing!

It’s hard not to think about her, from time to time, sitting in the cool morning air…coffee cup still warm in my hand. If it weren’t such a good time to prepare for the day, the coffee would still be hot as I finished it, but this is the quiet time, the time before the day begins…the time for rebirth…the coffee seems to have instantly chilled as I slipped away for ‘just a moment...just a moment.’  While Martha Jackson was and remained a bigger than life enigma to me, the early morning ritual seems to have been passed on through her genetic code to me.

Faith was important…

What I came to understand later in my life is that my grandmother was simply slipping into her closet to pray.  She was a religious woman, somewhat of a paradox considering her often hard exterior, but she believed the scriptures and did her best to follow them.  She knew she had things to work on, and her discipline of reading the scriptures, helped keep her centered. God only knows what she would have been like, had she not taken those mornings to reflect!

There are so many self-help books in the market place, with lists and lists of things to do intended to make our lives better, yet we often overlook the simplicity of the scripture’s gentle reminder:

“But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.

After this manner therefore pray ye: Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen”

Matthew 6:6, 10-13 – Bible

These words in Matthew are powerful in their quiet simplicity.  Close the door of our minds from the hubbub of the surrounding chaotic world…quietly center ourselves…recognize the magnitude of the intelligent creative universe we call God…be grateful for the sacred human fabric of which we are all a part.  Remind ourselves to be diligent…to ‘eat the bread’ of knowledge and understanding…to help us avoid the pitfalls in life that so easily rob us or our dignity and brotherhood…to recognize we are indeed part of an extraordinary universe, where we have the ability to appreciate both God and its magnitude. “Amen – so be it!”

Who knows, other than blind obedience to her faith, what led my grandmother to practice this morning ritual.  Who knows at what point the practice turned from duty to habit and from habit to the constitution of her being.  BUT part of the absolute tapestry of her life it became.  At some point it was no longer, “I need to do this” or “I want to do this.”  It became “This is who I am.”

Like grandmother, like grandson…

While I don’t really have any idea what my grandmother was thinking in those early morning hours, I know this…the example of her dedication caught my attention, and dropped a pebble into the hydraulic fluid of my mind.  It took some time before for those concentric ripples made their way to the shores of conscious thought for me, but arrive they did, and here I sit.

This is the time of day when I gather myself, the time of day I considered what I expect is coming, the time of day I ask God to forgive me for the sins of the days gone by.  No priestly confession…I am, after all, a Protestant.  My confessor the Almighty, and I know in my heart the list is long. 

- ted