Polly

Life’s Mindful Moments:

I have a busy day ahead of me: teach a yoga class, finish a project, run some errands, and later tonight meet with people I love to laugh with from high school. But my head isn’t in the game yet. I feel flat. I’m thinking about Polly.

I hardly know Polly. I met her at church; saw her at a party here and there while I lived in CA. My friends Steve & Susie from California know her much better. In fact, I’m sure they’re feeling even more flat, if not deflated and heartsick this morning. Polly’s son Ben was killed in a car accident yesterday. I can’t shake it. When we “bear one another’s burdens” what does that mean to you? For me, it means that I stop and pause and try to put myself in someone else’s shoes. I don’t know how Polly is handling this heartrending loss? I’d be undone.  What I remember of Polly was a mighty little lady who was generous with her time and affection towards people she cared about. When Steve and Susie’s son Caleb was in the hospital with leukemia, Polly looked after their other son, Noah, after school. I once went to her house to pick Noah up. I remember her home, and kid’s buzzing around, and Polly being fully aware and at peace. Her home had the most spectacular view of the Sierra Mountains. To me, that explained why she seemed so peaceful. I wanted to be her friend just so I could sit on her porch, take in the view, and have lingering conversation over a glass of ice tea. We never became friends. I moved from California back home to Illinois not too long after that. I wonder this morning if one of those kids buzzing around Polly’s house five years ago was her son Ben? Noah, the view, Polly’s generosity is all that I remember.

Sometimes living in the moment doesn’t always feel so Zen like. Sometimes it feels like you got punched in the stomach. Regardless, we allow those feelings to come. When Jesus friend Lazarus died, the shortest verse in the bible lets us in on his emotional state: “He wept.” I am mindful that Polly and her family are weeping as the sun rises on this unthinkable day. I’m aware that my friend’s Steve and Susie are weeping too, and feeling powerless to console their friends. There will be more weeping in the days ahead. In this moment all I can do is ask, “God of all comfort, be with all of those who loved Ben. Be with Polly and her family. Be with Steve & Susie, Noah and Caleb. I know you will. However, it doesn’t take away this feeling like that there isn’t enough air in our lungs. Fill us all up with your breath of life so we can do what we need to do today regardless of how good or agonizing it may be as we move through this day.”