The Sound of the Shofar

The plaintive Shofar cry screams wake up. It is not too late for redemption.

Remember what matters and what does not.

I know what bridges I must build, what fences I must mend, and what work I must do.

I know too what damage I can not undo, for which I can only beg forgiveness.

What passions must be tamed and which ones released.

And there is what I don't know.

What is next? How long until, until what?

How will I handle another emersion into the tired and nauseous world of transplant again? Even without the weight of a second deeper dive into that murk, I move too slow, do too little, am too easily diverted, and have way too little faith.

Maybe I should hear the shofar's call to action daily.

I bet I can get an Itune app that will awake with those harsh and demanding notes.

This weekend I will write about my recent talk with brave and wise friend Chaya (CLLTopicsUpdates) and my plans to live long enough to see the coming of the Mashiach.

Sensible Chaya would never approve of her name being used in the same sentence as the Jewish Messiach, so see my passionate hope as a metaphor for a cure not just for me but for all of us.