Fresh Water

Yesterday, I saw a man having a seizure. He was helped by a crowd below my apartment, so I felt my helping would only hinder, but as I watched this dramatic scene unfold, I was struck by a swift emotion of thankfulness. As the man lay, surrounded by good citizens (from who knows where), and the ambulance racing up, I became aware of how thankful I am for people such as this.

One of my best friends in the states is a paramedic. His name is Brian. He is a man of great character, the kind of guy you would expect to see in a crowd of good citizens and most definitely the guy you want pulling up to an emergency.  I am thankful he is a friend, I am thankful he has been there for me in times of need.

I find myself surrounded by people, good citizens, blessings. We are blessed with an amazing language teacher here. She is a breath of fresh air, her and her family. We are most indebted to her kindness and tutelage. What I am struck by is that there is so much, so many people, so many things to be thankful for everyday. Blessings hidden by familiarity, brought to light by drama, by necessity, by  emergency.

Tradition is a great thing. It gives us a story that helps paint our identity, it gives us context, understanding. What we risk in tradition, though, is a fresh vision. We risk the lack of risk. We become what we know, not what we may know. What was once lively and dramatic has become stone and dusty. We relive it to make it new-ish. And yet, how much more lively when we seek to engage, to dance with, those blessings that surround us like the cool night air come to refresh our souls.  We have risked, for too long, the dry arid desert of old. Yet we cannot abandon history to nothingness. It is important, necessary.

We must strike a balance between remembering the past as hope for the future. As relics to remind us of the current and present hope. The spirit that haunts us, that has not dissipated to the depths of oblivion. Those blessings that we so often forget that are right there to drive up and resuscitate us, lights flashing, holding our heads as we seize in and struggle.

I am reminded of what I have taken for granted, what my history sight has distorted, or forgotten. A fresh view of One who blesses, of One who redeems. I am filled with thankfulness for a hope in something not solely of the past, locked in time, subject to the annuls of dust and rust. I am thankful for an active Spirit, a fresh well of living water. Fresh, like the water given by faith.

"To keep a lamp burning, we have to keep putting oil in it."- Mother Teresa