Beans in a Cup

It isn’t the time for this. I need to sleep. And yet...the cloudburst will not wait for people on the surface to get to cover. The tsunami cares not what lays in its path. The dull ache in my head and the fatigue in my bones won’t stop this from coming, either.

With the arrival of daylight, daunting challenges will confront many. Some of those people already know it, and some of them feel dread. To some it may seem like the end of the world, or they may even wish it was. Most of those thus challenged will make it through. For all I know, I may be one of them; I’ve been there before and I know I’ll be there again. I don’t know what my specific challenges might be, and it scarcely matters; at this point in my life, my only real concerns are for those I care about.

One of those very important people has expressed doubt about the existence of a supreme being. After all, if there is one, why would such terrible things happen to people? If I tried to reply to a question like that in text, you would stop reading. If I spelled it out it might not be grasped, simply because it was stated plainly. That’s too easy to refute, or to pass off as mere opinion. I won’t try.

Instead, I’ll place before you a flood of memories that came from a simple white coffee cup, held in my hand quite recently. The cup was filled with warm baked beans.

I had been doing something else, and I hadn’t taken time to eat. Midnight came and went and still I hadn’t eaten. I don’t own a lot of extra dishes, and it was past the time to wash them. At that hour and with known tasks ahead, there really wasn’t time to stop and do dishes. The only clean container I had in which to heat those beans was, well, a coffee cup. So I did.

I stared down at the food in my hand and I wondered how many others had eaten beans from a cup, or straight from a freshly-opened steel can. Images flashed through my mind like flickering frames of an old movie, but each frame was from a different place and time. There must have been many millions of times, I considered, others have done the same. Sometimes, no doubt, those beans were all there was to eat. At other times, a cup of beans would have been wishful thinking. I saw hobos around a campfire. Cattle drivers stopping for a bite. Soldiers in war-torn trenches, or in quickly-excavated foxholes. A warm cup of real beans beats an MRE, any day or night.

But in my opinion, you haven’t really lived until you’ve eaten the last food you had with others around a campfire while too deep into the forest to get out in time for breakfast. Or until you’ve done it alone. Real desperation is a feeling you get when you’ve no idea which way to go to even get out of the wilderness. Then, your very life is in peril. Imagine the feeling of finally making your way to safety. There are so many ways it can happen...feet pounding, lungs bursting, running for your life. You make it. You become so sick of the fear of death that anger takes over, so that all you want is to make death fear you. And you make it. You live to see another sunrise. The sun sets, and you see another. And another.

You may not know it, but you’re here to learn, and you will. I think the creator of all has a hands-off preference. The world, and life, will be precisely what we make for ourselves. The blame is not on a creator. Any blame to be placed belongs directly on us.

And now I’ll say it, knowing that for those presently experiencing the deepest sense of loss, it could never be enough. There can be no appreciation for life without the reality of death. There can be no certainty without the contrast of the uncertain. There can be no beauty without the things that are not beautiful. Throw eggs at a fan, and guess what? Even consequence serves a purpose. So curse reality if it makes it better for a moment, or doubt it if you prefer. All things must pass. It’s part of what we’ve been given. The other part? Free will.

I doubt that one was ever intended to be misused, or wasted. I have to admit, I’ve done both. But, the day that’s about to begin will be a brand new one.

What will you do with yours?

 

 

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