Cypress

Ari, Derrick and I walked down by Turkey Creek tonight. It was just before nightfall.

The volunteers from Arizona have been working there this week and I had not yet been to the water's edge of Turkey Creek. They were escorting me home and as we passed the Headstart school I asked if this was the school behind which lay the work area Russell had mentioned in All Hands meeting Tuesday.

Derrick said, "Yes. Do you want to see it?" And I said yes. We parked the truck and walked through the schoolyard and across the small open lot behind it and entered the trees. There was a path! It was not immediately apparent until we were only a few feet from the trunks. He led and Ari and I followed.

He knows the woods--is that the right word? He pulled leaves and bent them and handed to us to sniff. He pointed to various vegetation and told stories. And he was enjoying himself though he never said so much. What he said was "Oh, Miss Alex is so happy now." And I smiled. I was happy. We were all happy.

Sweet to have a little bit of time in the damp, sheltered green arcade after sunset. I was wearing sunglasses when we entered but removed them after awhile because it became difficult in the slow-falling dusk to see the muted bloom colors. The blond sand of the path reflected the dim, three-quarter moonlight but just a few feet beyond the path, to either side, night was creeping in. To the right, the lush undergrowth was draped in shadow and to the left, the still, brackish water of the Creek lay like a pile of wide satin ribbon uncoiled.

We walked slowly along the path. I felt the place.

I am so glad we stopped. It was a transformative experience. A visit to another world. A glimpse of another face of Gulfport.

Check the hour

Another sleepless night.

I'm not suffering this morning. Just awake. Not burdened with work anxiety (although I have knocked out quite a bit of work tonight) just not sleepy.

I hear Sojourner calling me back to her. I'm distracted for now by Beethoven sonatas, playing better than I ever have. But it's been a long time since I was deep into the research and some of what I discovered about her is falling out of focus.

I've been thinking the last few weeks about her devotion to Jesus. It comes to mind when things are whirling crazy and disordered at TCCI and I cannot find a port in the storm. A myriad of possible coping strategies fly to the front of my mind and quickly displace each other. Which path to take, which fix to attempt... Can't decide.

And I think of ST, looking always to Jesus. "He will carry you through...." It's no longer an option for me but I wonder if, like her and Anne Lamott, I had a bona fide visitation by Jesus, if I actually saw his face and heard his voice--would I feel differently?

I saw Santa on the lawn outside my bedroom window when I was 9. I let Them convince me that I had not seen what I knew I saw. The experience changed my life.