I know there’s mystery when I
Look up at the night sky, fall back under brilliant stars, some twinkling
Worlds and worlds beyond me
I am so small
And there is so much I don’t understand
How can I be dogmatic?
claiming to to know the ocean when all I’ve seen is my little bit of sand.
I know there’s mystery when I watch Jean talk, her warm,
Faraway eyes always squinting because she’s always smiling
She smiles when she’s talking
You’d think it’d be inconvenient
To talk with a big smile in your way – but she makes speaking look so delicious
and I find myself listening with my mouth open or else grinning with my whole
face too, embarrassed when I suddenly become aware of my face
I love how she loves
I love how she walks, all 6 feet of her, frame too small to carry her stories
Maybe I will tell her.
I know there’s mystery when I touch the earth to honor my ancestors
Feel the rush of spirits run through me and the longing for connection, lineage
We are all “woven into one garment” – your spirit is in my spirit
and the more I open myself to the mystery of God, the more I know our interbeing.
When I thought of my ancestors, I wondered if they would recognize me – this mixed race, English and broken Tagalog-speaking child
I was afraid my body was a disruption –
which ancestors do I call on and in what language should I call?
Who will recognize me?
I knew there was mystery when that Vietnamese mother, about my mother’s age, suddenly approached me and said “you remind me of my daughter. Are you biracial too?” And I usually don’t want advice on this racial identity thing but she looked at me and said “don’t say disruption. Say creative. You are creating new possibilities. You are an incredible asset.”
He sang “there is no way to happiness, happiness is the way. There is no way to peace, peace is the way.”
I found mystery in his vibrato, in the quiet way he assembled his band, in the way I’d first judged him and the feelings I’d had towards him as compared to the details he revealed later that suddenly made me love him.
There is mystery in the details
We don’t immediately see
I cannot speak with authority on the
mystery of God
But I can stop
Fall back under the brilliant sky
and wait on the Spirit