The ABC’S and Delight

Like most people I know, I live days during which my main companion is self-doubt. It creeps into my brain and distracts me from all possibility of aligning with my truer, closer friends: acceptance, hope, possibility. It often traps me in a place of fear and defeat, drawing me into complacency and a desire to check out, rather than engage.

I’ve been reading a lot of Dorothy Day lately. If you are unfamiliar with Dorothy or her work, I highly recommend her collection of journals and autobiographical writing in On Pilgrimage. One of the most poignant passages I’ve come upon in this book is one in which she talks about experiencing glimpses of the Kingdom; that even knowing and experiencing all of the suffering of the world and the society in which she lived and work, she could taste God’s spirit and abundance everywhere. “Tastes of delight” is the phrase my psyche has captured to describe what I think she’s talking about.

While waiting for a bus on my commute to work a couple of days ago, I was sitting at a café and reading when I heard behind me the voice of a child—a little girl probably 3 or 4 years old—sweetly singing the ABC’s. As she walked within eyesight, I saw that she was holding the hand of a man (her father, I presume) who was also holding the hand of another little girl, of similar size and age. It was only a matter of seconds before they walked around the corner and out of sight. In the midst of my ordinary morning, I experienced this child’s presence as such a taste of delight. Before turning the corner, she unabashedly cried “Hello!” and waved as people walked by her, singing “W-X-Y-and-Z!” with all the whimsy her body could produce. She was fully committed to her present moment, walking with her caretaker, sharing with the outside world her own delight in what she was learning and taking in about this world she lives in.

Observing this child also reminded me of a recent conversation I had with one of my housemates. The evening of the date Maya Angelou died last week, Ruth shared with me that she had seen postings from friends on social media mourning the loss of one of our world’s great role models, and adding their woe and skepticism about who the new role models will be. “It seems clear to me, Eva,” Ruth said with tears of conviction, “that we have to be those role models… I look around and see so many talented and strong people in my life… and it is up to us to now teach the lessons that were taught to us by people like Maya.”

I was struck by the profundity of her words, and call upon them even after our conversation to renew me during times of self-doubt and anxiety. In a society noisy with the pursuit of profit, entertainment, sex, and individualism, I am grateful for the words of truth from my sister Ruth and the little girl on the sidewalk, singing the ABC’s.