Matryoshka

 

May 17, 2021

 Greetings from the Matryoshka,

 I am watching the day bloom, flourishing there at the edge of the trees, the first pale light, and now the hint of color, a cameo blush.  I have the same sense of anticipation, of expectation, that I have been gifted with nearly every morning.  It is a treasure to be here for these first moments, to feel the possible, and to know this other thing.

 Last summer, I was relaxing on the deck after a full day.  It was warm, the trees were full of green, the world was ripe and lush.  I had filled the moments since I watched the sunrise that day, and I remember feeling the ache of the effort easing as I sat watching the day soften toward evening.

 I heard this sound from beyond the trees.  At first I thought it was geese, and then I realized it was voices.  But I wasn’t sure because it sounded so different; there was this musical lilt, a different cadence.  I thought it might be someone playing soccer, but it didn’t make sense, Covid had cancelled those games.  And it wasn’t the right sound.  I pushed from my chair and leaned at the edge of the deck, wondering, and the wonder pulled me to find out.

 I followed the sound until I found them.  It was a soccer game but not like anything that I’d seen played there.  Not wobbling novices, not awkward teenagers, these were grown men, fast and fierce and capable.  It was like watching cheetahs at play, not simply because of their lithe power, but because they seemed to be so happy doing it.  There were no spectators, and the only sound was their voices, and the muted thump of the ball being kicked.

 One of them noticed me watching and said “Good evening sir!” and went back to the game.  I realized then, listening to them calling to each other, that the reason the sound was different was that most were not speaking English.  The play went on, shouting to each other, weaving in and out down the green field, their voices melding into this beautiful and unusual choir there. 

 This was not a mountaintop experience, not some unique, improbable moment, it was an ordinary day, just like this Monday, that held beauty, and then wonder, and then joy, and then something else.  It was as if God had said: ‘I know this has been an awesome day, but before you go, here’s one more thing I thought you’d like.  Just be curious enough to see it.’

 Not a week ago I was running with my brother and his wife and daughter, a slice of the morning, a simple workout to get the blood flowing.  Tucked in those few miles was a question, and our answers, and as we talked back and forth, we created something new and larger than simply scraping our feet on pavement and breathing in and out.  Those ideas, and our exchange, made the moment more meaningful, memorable, and in the process we were all changed.  Speaking for myself, changed for the better; I am made more now from the experience.

 You know the classic Russian Matryoshka, the ‘nesting dolls’ that each open to another inside.  This thing we have is the opposite of that.  Each gift has another gift inside, but it’s larger.  I can see it as I tell you this, telescoping out into my day, one thing opening to something more, and then something richer, and that leading to yet another place, or another encounter, or another idea. 

I have found it plumbing the depths of my capacity in a marathon, and in exploring a new path in the woods, and in a quiet conversation with a friend.  When my daughter was born, those hours of uncertainty and excitement and the strange new emotions that are paired with becoming a parent.  And tucked inside that, waiting, was the decades of beauty that she has shared with us.

 And this: the night my mother passed away, filled with the ache and doubt, and the endless hours that suddenly were over, and also the tiny moments of grace and peace, of kindness.  Those gifts, tucked inside grief and waiting and fear, led to another even greater gift only days later; sharing the moments with my family, giving them the story so they could own it too.  That somehow was even more powerful because it became more than one experience.

 Yesterday I was running in the rain.  I was several miles from home, and almost without me knowing it, I stopped.  I was tired, beyond what I realized.  I stood there looking at my shoes, the rain soaking me, puddling around me.  I felt weary, some of it because I had pushed myself too hard.  Some of it was the weight of senseless worry, clinging to me like my wet clothes.  I crouched down and put my hands in the rain gathering there in the dirt, and closed my eyes. 

 Hidden in that moment was a new gift, this sense of peace and strength.  I felt rooted in the earth, the wet soil, the feel of the cool rain gathered into its new existence around my hands.  I breathed in the morning, and felt the gift, felt the relief from whatever had pulled me to a stop.  I know where this comes from, and I was grateful I waited to feel it.  It was greater than the experience that held it.

 The day will fill, and we are charged with making the hours, ours.  Capturing time for any part we are able and opening it up, seeing what great and beautiful thing is inside it.  And whatever we find, understanding that what lies inside there is bigger than we imagined, more than we dreamed.  We only have to look to know.

 

Hope this finds you looking inside,

 

David

  

Copyright © 2021 David Smith