Gratitude 76

I don't write often about these things, but I want to report to you, my Gentle Reader, a mystical experience that I had today.  As you might discern from yesterday's post I have been under a bit of stress from the untimely ending of a friendship.  These things can play havoc on me at times, because, as another dear friend observed, I place a high value on friendship.  I would imagine that having no family, and sometimes being myself a rather challenging friend to have, can at times leave me feeling particularly anxious and needy, especially when someone has bailed on me.  Indeed, the unexpected email from my former friend left me feeling upset, angry, and anxious.  It also almost wrecked my sleep.  This morning I was still angry at this idiot.  I realize I am also angry with myself for allowing myself to be befriended by persons who clearly will not respect me.  I have a long history of this, likely stemming from my childhood experience of abuse and mistreatment by my peers, and only now do I seem to be making a bit of a change in this toxic dynamic.

I was in my favourite forest this afternoon, following almost two hours of drawing while inside my favourite café.  I sat on my favourite bench, which commands a view of the forest.  There is something especially splendid about the way the afternoon sun shines through the trees, the boughs and foliage.  Yesterday, I was also privileged to be introduced to the gentleman who donated this bench to the forest.  We were seated on the same bench and had a very enjoyable conversation.  He is older, in his late sixties.

There was no one present while I sat there today, which is rather unusual, given how busy the park can get on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and the place seemed unusually silent.  I was perseverating about yesterday's problem and things related to me and the church.  I found myself again ruminating and despairing over never being able to find a church home or church family where I would feel welcome, at home, and as a good fit.  Then, I noticed the light in the leaves and the surrounding trees become brighter, more luminous and the silence became profound and I knew suddenly that I was in the presence of the living God.  A deep hushed peace came over me.  And even now, here at home, watching the day come to an end, I am feeling better, less burdened and more confident about the future.

There are times when all it takes is a sense of the presence of God and suddenly everything is resolved and there is the confidence that "all shall be well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."