Wie lieblich sind deine Wohnungen, Herr Zebaoth

On mornings like this, as the sun rises to begin a new day, a heaviness weighs upon me. I squeeze a pillow under my blanket, then slowly leave my bed to turn off the air conditioning and make myself coffee. Paul lies on the living room floor, oblivious to my presence.

The tasks are many. I pray for strength to carry out the good work that God has set before me (Ephesians 2:10). When I turn on my cell phone, kept at bay in an empty room, I imagine a string of notifications, missed calls, and unread images. I let my phone be. I do not rush to it -- that bewildering machine that distracts and entertains -- but make time to grind the coffee beans and wait for the water to boil.

Dawn is my favorite time of the day. Full of possibilities and calm, it allows me to gather my thoughts. Gathering is necessary because my mind is a clutter, no matter what shelves I put up to compartmentalize and organize my thoughts. Friends know me as a morning person. I do my best thinking when everyone is asleep, and there is a cool freshness, albeit short-lived, around me. A few hours later, humidity and heat will prevail, but I will have been done with my prayer and meditation. 

Perhaps people in my profession are familiar with -- and have grown used to -- the weight of stories of pain and suffering. Perhaps this is the "good work" set before me today, one in which I can honor God through quiet compassion. I need God's strength to get me through the day. I need a perspective that sees past the cancerous tumors.  

Music helps. This morning I discover Johannes Brahms's  Wie lieblich sind deine Wohnungen, Herr Zebaoth. 

 

 

Wie lieblich sind deine Wohnungen,
Herr Zebaoth! 
Meine seele verlanget und sehnet sich
nach den Vorhöfen des Herrn;
mein Leib und Seele freuen sich
in dem lebendigen Gott.
Wohl denen, die in deinem Hause wohnen,
die loben dich immerdar. 

The English translation is: 

How amiable are thy tabernacles,
O Lord of hosts!
My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth
for the courts of the Lord:
my heart and my flesh crieth out
for the living God.
Blessed are they that dwell in thy house:
they will be still praising thee.  

  The song longs for heaven, where God dwells, and there is no more pain and suffering.