I have what I call “red light” days. They arrive with a series of red lights on streets that I think should be sequenced with green lights (to help the flow of traffic and aid my travel). With those stop-go red lights, comes a series of small but annoying events: I drop things, I walk into a door frame, the Internet is too slow, I can’t find something important, my computer crashes, and so forth. It’s one annoying event after another, impeding my travel through the day.

I know I’m supposed to look for good events in my days. I know this because I have preached it, therefor it must be true. Look for the “green lights” I’ve said to myself and whoever is listening.

Yet, what if the universe is conspiring to shift my gears and rattle my patience with a series of “gotchas”? What if the forces of life are pushing me to slow down, pause, take a look around, and see what’s at the corner where the red light has forced me to stop? What if I’m dropping, losing, bumping, impatiently waiting, and generally getting increasingly frustrated with a series of unfortunate events because I’m not paying attention to what’s right in front of me?

Yes, there is something to be celebrated when things go smoothly, from green lights onward, so that I can get my list of things done, feeling accomplished and satisfied. And, there is something to be celebrated when I arrive at the end of the day, knowing I leaned into the day and whatever it offered, red lights and all.

My theology doesn’t invite a conspiracy by the Universe directed at me. However, my theology does invite me to remember that in the small and large scale of the universe, I am responsible for my well-being, which includes managing my anxiety and looking for the unfolding of life all around me. That unfolding sometimes happens as I drop something, can’t find another thing, bump into a doorframe, or wait for my computer to reboot.

I invite you to join me in a deep breath and watch the universe unfold at the next red light.

With love and patience, Rev. Kate

Care and Connections

We are holding Bob Sullivan in our hearts as he mourns the death of first cousin Jim Drotleff, who was like a brother to him. Jim’s death has hit Bob in the depth of his heart.

If you have joys or sorrows you would like to share with the community; please send them to me, at kwalker@first-unitarian-pgh.org