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awindowThe first time I came out of sleep this morning into a still-dark world where ice crystals were bouncing off my window panes I was reminded of my dentist appointment three days ago. When he greeted me and asked me how I was upon entering the room, I just answered “transient sensitivity.” The hygienist who had just cleaned my teeth (read: picked and prodded) looked quizzical but the doc nodded and said, “Ahh, your sinuses…”

When I moved 45 years ago to this lovely valley located in the Southern Tier of New York State, I was told that it is known for the propensity of sinus conditions and I was warned that it would take about five years for me to join the ranks of those so “blessed.” I came to understand the condition but have only experienced it as mild discomfort when inclement weather is the order of the day. Lately, however, I know when storms are coming because my teeth begin to ache. Thinking I had a cavity recently, or more likely an exposed nerve in one of my teeth, I had an interesting visit to the dentist where he did everything he could to locate the difficulty, finally concluding that it was the above-mentioned transient sensitivity. In other words, my aging sinuses were talking to the aging nerves close by and predicting stormy weather.

That’s the long introduction to my thoughts this morning about my state of being. While it is true that my teeth are reminding me of what I see and hear outside my window, I was comparing the term to how I was feeling inside when I turned to Thomas Merton and read the following paragraph.

O great God, Father of all things, Whose infinite light is darkness to me, Whose immensity to me is as the void, You have called me forth out of Yourself because You love me in Yourself, and I am a transient expression of Your inexhaustible and eternal reality. I could not know You, I would be lost in this darkness, I would fall away from You into this void, if You did not hold me to Yourself in the Heart of Your only begotten Son. (Thoughts In Solitude, 71).

Call it synchronicity, call it a meaningless musing from a foggy mind, but for me this word from Merton will take me through the day in gratitude.