Simple ablution

An arctic cold front is blasting the country with sub-zero temperatures, bringing devastation and loss of life. And across the world, missiles continue to blast Ukraine.

I can’t help but put myself in the shoes of someone who is trapped in homelessness or displaced by war. I know where the homeless are camping out in my own community. I see the families trying to keep their kids bundled up near local churches, and I see their homemade shelters hanging on for dear life in the strong winds along freeway embankments.

And, with a heavy heart, I think about the countless displaced families in Ukraine living among rubble in freezing temperatures without electricity. How are they keeping their children and elderly warm?

I understand that a vicious war will do that. But I don’t understand the unfettered displacement of Americans who’ve worked hard all their life, who served our country, who maybe even served us a meal at our favorite restaurant, who now can’t even afford shelter—especially here in the wealthiest country in the world.

With these thoughts bogging me down on New Year’s eve, I am comforted by one of my favorite poems, “Simple Ablution” by Mattie J.T. Stepanek:

Sometimes,
People complain that
Others cry too much.
How sad.
How angering.
How blundering.
Tears are like rain.
They come
Gently, or strongly.
They come
Quietly, or loudly.
They come
Refreshingly, or devastatingly.
But they always,
In some way, come,
And cleanse, and console.
Sometimes,
There’s a mess to fix
After the rain,
After the tears,
But it always makes people
Stop.
And think.
And take notice.
Perhaps,
We should all cry
More.
Together.
For each other.
Perhaps,
If everyone in the world
Cried with and for
Other people and life,
We might be
More caring and peaceful.
Perhaps,
We could cry enough
That the world would be
A cleaner and healthier place,
For our people,
For our life,
For our future.

In sharing this poem, which is more of a prayer, I wish everyone, including the displaced everywhere, more comfort in 2023.