Blues

It is hard to remember last week.  Idle summer days had hung and our sports heroes were still heroes.  The ongoing sun, lingering far longer than allowed, was still making a daily appearance.  The city still held a summer attitude!  If you were to try to imagine any of this on the coming morning, it would be difficult.
 
The wind is lashing in on the East River from the north.  The leaves had gone from green to death in one step, ignoring the colors they usually grace us with.  The rain rides in on the wind, driving kids nearer to the ground, old people inside, and the brave into a huddled submissive march.  Our sporting heroes have walked off into the darkness for a time of reflection, morning, and healing.  The harsh reality is that many feel as though, “from the bottom of your feet to the top of your head, nothing's working right.  Wounds and bruises and running sores—untended, unwashed, unbandaged.” (Isaiah 1.6)  It is miserable!
 
Yet the street lamp light’s reflection on the clean wet street tells me otherwise.  Everything is fresh, new, and open for what might be.  You can sense the energy of people ready to give battle with the elements; they are not going to take this willingly!  They will fight for opportunities, struggle for hope, and push to get what might be.  It is as if losing one cab might discourage some but there is always another; are you ready?
 
The early fall blues can be hard to accept.  We long for the peaceful and idle days of summer.  Yet in falls arrival the reality of the world around us sits in stark harmony.  Pain, abuse, and struggles abound.  People are fighting for survival and the ability to face the day.  Nothing seems to be going right. 
 
This is our queue.  We can roll and float with the blues, bringing hope with each movement.  We are messengers of what can be, reaching out and touching those in need with arms of compassion, words of mercy, and movements of acceptance.