A Rattled Leaf


Dear Eugene,

"I will not try to run my own life or the lives of others; that is God's business," you taught me.

"Do what you will need to do and I am here for you," that's what I said to Sumi this rainy morning when she was wandering on dark lawns among thick leaves, searching for something I didn't know what, her way to find healing, I hoped.

It's easy for me to say.  A bit more patience to do, but totally doable too.  She's just a dog on leash.

There were chains so I hastened to behave
There were chains, so I loved you like a slave

It's not so easy if she is to do something harmful to herself or to others.  Like what humans do.  All the time.

And then whose business would it be to stop the bad and start the good?

The autumn sun is easy but life is not.  It seems to me life is all about taking care of business, my own business, others' business.  If I don't wipe away the little speck of mud Sumi brought in after this morning's walk it will stay there forever the way forever means to me--a constant eyesore, heartache for a long long time.  Messy steps will eventually erase it, I wish soon enough, but the bitter regret of my doing nothing about it and bitterer memory of nobody else cared will soak right through the floor tile.

(I am going to go up now and give my son a second warning and come back to write.  I first tried to wake him at 7.  Now it's 25 minutes after and I didn't hear a leaf rattle.  And my daughter, right around the tree, would not rattle unnecessary leaves.)

"God has to work in the soul in secret and in darkness because if we fully knew what was happening, and what Mystery, transformation, God and Grace will eventually ask of us, we would either try to take charge or stop the whole process."

How do I go about my Father's business without taking charge or worse, stopping the whole process?

Yours, Alex

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