(Wordless) May
The Blue Man Group came to Saint Louis in the early 00’s, and Venus Hum was the opening act. I was unfamiliar and admittedly uncertain as the electric pop group took the stage. But their music was unapologetic and pure and it swept me up and before I knew it I had a new anthem for my soul entitled “Wordless May.”
“The words of wordless May
Sing a song to me
She stands as tall as trees these days
The words of wordless May
Dear Jesus make me simple
Strong as trees to sway
Give me arms wide open, with your beautiful way
Just like wordless May. “
This song has been the hum of my heart for a decade and a half.
I cannot recall the number of times I’ve stood in a church or on a sidewalk or in my child’s room or under a tree and needed to cry out in prayer but wasn’t able to find the words. In those times and many others I simply sing (in my head, because it sounds nicer there) that poetic prayer: “Dear Jesus, make me simple. Strong as trees to sway. Give me arms wide open with your beautiful way, just like wordless May.”
If ever a May was wordless, this one certainly is. In many parts of the world, in many professions, I imagine things are more hectic than ever. But in my own little corner of the midwestern United States, I am in a mid-COVID quietude. Not literally wordless of course – with four humans still in single digits there is rarely a quiet moment. But I have found a certain peace in this pause. As we slowly rise from our isolation (soon for some, a time yet unknown for others), I find myself wanting to protect that peace; not in a way that shelters me or shuts others out, but in a way that honors what has happened and how we are changed because of it.
The gift amidst the grief of this pandemic is that we get to slowly re-curate our lives. We get to fill the wordlessness with wisdom, having already extracted ourselves from much of the noise we once thought necessary. We need not hasten back to a life where “busy” is synonymous with “important” when we have learned the skill of being still. We can dwell in discernment and welcome things of worth back into our lives while we respectfully set aside those that were never deserving of our time and freedom.
The treasure is in the transition.
One of my favorite phenomena is the forest’s transformation just before a summer storm. The leaves seem to turn a deeper shade of green before I notice the sky has gone gray. They rustle a gentle warning before the first rumbles of thunder are heard. The temperature drops and the air seems clearer somehow and I realize it’s because the wind has picked up and suddenly I am breathing imported air from a few fields over. Then I watch the gusts sweep through the trees, which have become pillars of graceful strength as they reach down with their roots and stretch tall with their branches, simultaneously bound and bending to retain their rightful place on the forest floor.
“Strong as trees to sway.” When I speak that as a prayer, I am asking for wisdom in the balance. And as I imagine how I will move forward after being awakened to suffering and inconvenience and privilege and gratitude and contentedness and helplessness, I want to learn from the strength of those trees in the storm. Firmly rooted, but willing to bend. Certain of the simple truths, but willing to open myself to understanding when other opinions rain down around me. Preserving my peace while fully participating in the glorious gusts of life.
“Give me arms wide open with your beautiful way – just like Wordless May.”
Now you kind of have to listen to the song, right?? You can do that here.
