Benediction at the Intersection of Bridge Ave and Route 88
(finding hope in the periphery)
So I'm sitting at a red light late Saturday night a couple of weeks ago. It’s late, I’m tired, home is just a few blocks away. I absently glance over at the car next to mine. In my periphery, a middle aged couple are sort of swaying and moving their lips. Singing, maybe? I take a second glance to confirm--but I’m caught. The woman begins to make frantic gestures and for whatever reason I pretend not to see her and concentrate on the red light. (Damn this light is long.) She persists and curiosity compels me to acknowledge her universal sign to roll down my window.
Yes? --says I, feigning surprise.
Do you like Lionel Ritchey? --she shouts across the lane.
Sure! --not untrue, but emphasized to honor her enthusiasm.
Listen to his songs! --she shouts.
Which one?
All of them!
Sail on! --her partner calls out over her.
Ok! --I laugh, starting to roll up the window.
What’s your name? --she is not in a hurry.
Robyn. What’s yours?
Hi Robyn! My name is Geraldine.
Well, it is so good to meet you like this. --I’m actually charmed by her confidence.
I’m gonna say a prayer for you tonight. --and then, time stopped for a moment.
Wow, thank you, Geraldine. I receive that. --the first real thing I say.
I didn’t notice the light had turned green until we said goodbye. I drove past home to the inlet and listened to Sail On in its entirety.
Chaos abounds, confusion surrounds, but still hope can be found in the smallest of moments.
The unwelcome interruptions.
The unexpected gestures of kindness.
The seemingly inconsequential exchanges.
The willingness to be embarrassed by our curiosity.
Chaos is always in our periphery, but so is beauty.
When we pay attention to both the horror and the beauty in our periphery, we give our curiosity permission to exercise love in even the most absurd of circumstances. Like celebrating the love of a 1970s break up song with complete strangers at a red light on a Saturday night.
Whoa, sail on, honey, Good times never felt so good. ~Commodores 1979