There are times when one feels as if s/he needs to have the first and final word. After several days of collaborative writing, I readily admit that I caught myself thinking that way from time to time. Obviously, I thought I knew what I wanted to say. Inevitably, I was sure I knew how to say it. Each time I opened myself up to the comment, I found myself caught out. My words were not clear. Even I was not sure at times what I was saying. While my initial reaction was like a Mayan monkey, harmony and collaboration prevailed. The result was that the final words were so much more than the first.
In a bigger story, it can take time to realise that the first words were written long before our arrival. I find myself going crazy! I want the first words. I am looking to frame out the story. I start with the premise that characters, their roles, and even their relationship will conform to my view. In time, I discovered that what I think is brand new is old. Paul reminds me with candid bluntness; “All we’re saying is that God has the first word, initiating the action in which we play our part for good or ill.” (Romans 9.18)
In accepting the words of my elders and Divinity, I discover that I am loved. I am a member of a family shared by love and hope. In stepping back from my shock that the world did not originate with me, I find myself surrounded with kindness and care. In this place, I hear my calling to be a messenger to others who find themselves as surprised as I continue to be.
I also discovered that our larger story is far richer, more complex, and more beautiful than I ever imagined. The shared story I find is filled with opportunities for a better future. I hear a calling to be part of the solution. As today begins, in each moment I have an opportunity to bring kindness and care to life.
