This not that

 Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten young women took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom.  Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them, but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. (Matthew 25:1-4)

The joy we crave has a door, and it is this, not that.

This is the present moment, right in front of us. Often as not, we miss this … because our eyes and heart are fixed on that … over there, something that isn’t here, or at least not yet and maybe never will be. Like it or not, we are where we are.

Sometimes our this is eminently embraceable, like when Dixie trundles sleepy-eyed down the hall each morning and into my arms as she has for decades, longing for touch, knowing, too, that I have her coffee set up for her.

But sometimes our this is exactly what we most fear. My friend receives a diagnosis nobody wants, and his wife wonders if the foundation of their life together will soon crumble to dust. Who can throw their arms and heart around this … as it threatens to still the sweet grace of long-shared laughter?

It feels insensitive or even inhuman to suggest human hearts should or even can embrace such a moment, but the importunate truth is that this … is the only place grace and love can be known. This moment, with whatever quagmire of emotion warms or chills the blood, is where we meet or fail to greet the Love who awaits us there. Every moment is filled with the potential to draw fuller love and life from the well of our souls where the Love Who Is … is pleased to dwell.

The bridegroom approaches, according to Jesus’ parable of the wise women, ready to be welcomed by souls who manage to stay open to Love’s nearness, no matter how troubling life can be. It is they who enter the feast to celebrate the marriage of heaven and earth, drinking the sweet wine of divine love, which never runs dry, not in this life or in the mystery beyond.

Lord knows, I do this poorly. Aggressive drivers, casual disrespect and about a thousand other things can roil my heart, evaporating awareness that the present moment is a door through which to enter—and be—the joy of Love’s living nearness. Missed opportunities litter most lives, and I am no different.

But each day comes anew. Letting go of what was, I light the lamp of awareness once more, hungry to greet the One who breathes joy into willing hearts.

David L. Miller