Our Open House is today. Just as I did last year, I’m worried that no one will come. Last year we ended up having a nice turnout. Hopefully we will this year as well.
This morning I just want to urge folks to go check out Linda’s (Shoreacres) fine post Sleepers, Awake.
You should read the whole thing, but here’s the beautiful ending:
Gabriel García Márquez , author of the incomparable One Hundred Years of Solitude, has left us an answer fully as magical as Andersen’s fairy tales, just as realistic as Jesus’s understanding of humanity. In the days before his death, Márquez wrote a letter to the world. Near the end, he said:
Tomorrow is never guaranteed to anyone, young or old. Today could be the last time to see your loved ones, which is why you mustn’t wait; do it today, in case tomorrow never arrives. I am sure you will be sorry you wasted the opportunity today to give a smile, a hug, a kiss, and that you were too busy to grant them their last wish.
Keep your loved ones near you; tell them in their ears and to their faces how much you need them and love them. Love them and treat them well; take your time to tell them “I am sorry,” “forgive me, “please,” “thank you,” and all those loving words you know.
Márquez’s words ring true. In the midst of all the apparent death which surrounds us — rigid, insensate and stuporous as it is — we still have the power, by our own actions, to reveal it as temporary sleep.
“I am not dead, I am only sleeping,” says Anderson.
“I would awake while others sleep,” says Marquez.
“Awake, O sleeper, and rise,” sings out the Easter proclamation. “The seal of the grave is broken, and the morning of a new creation breaks forth out of night.”
Reach out with your actions. Reach out with your words. Take the hand of the one next to you, whether stranger or friend. There is life here among us, waiting to be lived. It’s time for the sleepers to awake.