These are the Days...
noticing the present tensions in my 55th trip around the sun
These are the days when the cold, crisp air freezes my chin, nose, and fingertips on my morning walk; when the evergreens stand tall and steady, their needles clinging to branches in the days’ darkness; when the rain parts and the sun rises into baby-blue skies and cotton-candy pink clouds; when the world turns even as we work to use and abuse it; when a convicted felon runs a world superpower and rolls up his sleeves to flex daily, trying to convince others that his aged, out-of-shape arms are strong and his mind is sound; when lies, fear, greed, and corruption are the capital of the Capitol; when the guardrails of democracy fail at the hands of spineless leaders, amoebas jiggling in a petri dish of political muck; when agents of the State abduct and murder citizens under the guise of protecting the people; when people of every shape and size stand on Saturday street corners like the Beacons of Gondor, waiting for the sleeping giant to awaken; when heartbreak happens with each click of the daily news; when morning routines and heads-down-get-work-done-normalcy threaten to numb me to the forces at play, both good and evil; when my body feels squishy and weak, stretched in ways I don’t recognize or understand; when my social feeds have the “answers” to my questions and all the outrage I want to shout from the rooftops; when the cat sits on my lap, content and quiet; when my beloved holds my tears and giggles at the end of a long week; when friends laugh loud, stay close, and mirror Holy Wonder; when my kids call or come home to celebrate me - kindness savored; when all I want to do is curl up in bed and cover my head; when the words of John D. Blase squiggle in my mind, reminding me to put my feet on the cold floor, stand against the increased weight of myself and the world, and trust in the One who holds all things muddled and miraculous; when faithfulness to Jesus feels confusing and convoluted, as division and toxic doctrines dominate the landscape; when poets and prophets communicate the honest hurts and holy hard of life; when God’s silence is deafening, and stillness leaves me wanting a clue, a sign, the faintest glimmer that says, “All is well, all will be well, on earth as it is in heaven. Stand steady. I’m still here.”
And again, the sun sets and rises, reminding me to breathe. A new day begins.
Photo: D. Hansen, taken on iPhone 16Pro, Dec 14, 2025.
Beautifully woven reflections here. The way this piece holds contradictions togehter without trying to resolve them is powerful. I find myself doing similar mental gymnastics lately, especially tht tension between wanting to stay present and the impulse to numb out.
I so resonate with what you share here, Darcy! Given all that's going on in our country (and the world), at times I feel torn between the urge to scream, surrender, "fight", hide, and everything in between. And really, as you write, the deepest part of me just yearns to be reminded and reassured that all will be well.