Lessons Learned From Falling Into The Pool

I fell into my pool this morning (Friday) at 4:49 AM. 

I'm aware of the exact time because I glanced at the clock on my cable box as I walked shivering back into the house afterward, glad that there was no one there to see it. 

Oh. I bet you want to know how I fell in the pool.  I just bet you do. 

It happened, like a lot of accidents in the home, prior to coffee being consumed. So, I was not at my best--mentally, or physically, as it turns out. 

Both myself and Elway the dog were awakened at the same time around 4:45AM to the sound of cats screeching at one another.  One of the screeching cats was mine, but the other was an interloper. 

[So it wasn't that kind of screeching, okay. Get your mind out of the gutter. My cat has morals. And also... she's "fixed."]

Elway and I went downstairs and outside to investigate and discovered the strange cat under our patio table.  I grabbed a broom to force the new and awful cat out, and it fled, pursued by Elway. 

As I stumbled along the side of the pool after the cat and the dog, I slipped and fell in.  At 4:49AM.  Prior to coffee.  Here endeth the story. 

I don't exactly know why I am telling you this story.  Except that it's Friday and the end of a long week. 

And honestly, the whole thing got me reflecting on the randomness of things, and how it's hard to find meaning in the things that happen to us. 

I also guess it's because of this line from a poem from the great Irish poet Brendan Kennelly I read recently:

How easy it is to maim the moment with expectation, to force it to define Itself. 

The truth is... Sometimes things just happen. 

We slip and fall into the pool at 4:49AM. 

We lose our job on a Tuesday afternoon in February. 
A loved one dies suddenly and we are left breathless and alone. 
Our child grows up and moves away, and we weren't ready to let them go.

And in our efforts to make sense of everything, we maim the moment with our expectations, trying to exact meaning, attempting to rationalize everything. 

When instead maybe what we should do is embrace the holiness of it all---of our grief, our surprise, our sorrow, our wonder and our unknowing. 

It is all holy--every part of it.  Because God is in it.  

God is present in all of those moments, and in all things, and in every place.  God mourns with us, rejoices with us, weeps with us, and even laughs with us. 

I'm pretty sure I could almost hear a chuckle in my head today as I fell into the drink.  And it wasn't coming from me.  It was Holy laughter at a holy moment.    

May the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you now and always. Amen.