but the clearing,
slow may it be,
much patience required,
the opening ravishes.
The first time I visited San Francisco, we walked the city. We didn’t rent a car but used public transportation. Our first morning out, we took the bus to the bridge.
It was foggy. Just fog and the roar of traffic.
At the visitor center, we asked where the bridge was. From behind the counter came a point to the picture window, “It’s right there.”
My husband and I looked at one another and shrugged.
“Just take the steps up.” The finger returned to the newspaper on the counter turning to the next page.
And an afterthought, “Watch out for traffic. And just keep walking.”
So we walked up the steps and the traffic noise grew, surged through the fog without showing itself.
As we continued, we began to see ghost cars melting into grey. There was one lone figure ahead of us on the wide sidewalk with just enough clarity to make out his form. As we approached, he stopped. The three of us saw only the faintest outline of the bridge, a picture frame flat and almost nondescript.
When we reached him, he turned and handed us his camera. We obliged. He reclaimed it, bowed slightly, and began to walk back to the steps. We shared what we were told: just keep walking. He hesitated and without a reply disappeared down the steps into the soup.
We looked at one another and just continued walking.
It wasn’t long. Rather quickly, as a matter of fact, that as we passed under the first arch we could see the fog clearing. We kept walking. Cars became sharper to match the bluster. I could now see across the traffic to the opposite side of the bridge opening to the ocean and began to distinguish waves roaring in harmony with the rush hour madness.
My husband tapped me on the shoulder in our pause. He whispered, “Turn around.”
There it was, the city of San Francisco, the bay, and the bridge with the fog falling away, candy-colored in the bright morning sun.
Wisdom is there, always.
She waits for me to simply listen, press on in the present moment. There I will meet her.
If I release my worry, my need for control, my fear. If I sit with my choices and understand they are past done, I see her opening the door for me to make new choices to live the life I’ve been given.
I can choose to continue on, or turn back.
I choose Lady Wisdom.
Thank you, Scott Jenkins, for Celtic Conversations this past year at a Church of the Holy Family, ECC. I have grown and changed and learned to release. You’ve given us time to rest and question in a place of safety filled with compassion. Thank you, Padre.
A bit of synchronicity for this week. Our Celtic Conversations and the Lectionary Readings for Sunday, October 11, 2015, from the USCCB.org:
Reading 1 WIS 7:7-11
Reading 2 HEB 4:12-13
San Francisco Bay Bridge Photo courtesy of: Bridge-Bond-Monuments-Places-Fog-Golden-Gate-Pacif-7748