Welcome to the 4am Club.
It's well-attended.
People come and go freely.
There are no membership fees.
Drop-ins are always welcome.
Some people bring their physical pain:
headaches, back aches, restless legs.
Some bring their soul pain.
The language of tears is spoken.
Emotions circulate around the room:
fear, sadness, shame –
all the ones that crawl under the bed
when daylight comes.
Often prayers are whispered.
Blessings are blown across the miles
to loved ones.
Healing incantations are said
for those who suffer.
Peace is yearned for.
Thanksgivings echo through the night.
In the generosity of darkness and silence,
dreams are remembered:
nighttime dreams, childhood dreams, daydreams awaken forgotten pathways.
From time to time, joy pops in for a visit.
So do the cats. Lured by magic,
they find their way to a warm lap
and doze off.
Visions of beauty show up,
And creative weavers
wander around, aimlessly.
Sometimes a mysterious focus grabs hold.
Then, a light appears in the darkness,
revealing the unfathomable love
that holds everything together.
I didn't know exactly how to go about helping others. But if I could remember that great acts are the small, quiet ones that no one hears about, that would be a start. I could look for ways myself to help people in need of a boost, to align myself with underdogs. I need to remember Ella's way with her leprosy ... her intent. Perhaps it didn't matter what I did to earn a living, as long as the motive was to help others and not just gain attention.
~ from IN THE SANCTUARY OF OUTCASTS, by Neil White
