At first I was annoyed by the incessant bouncing of the basketball. I experienced it like nails on a chalkboard. But then I remembered that my grandfather gave me a basketball when I was in the fourth grade. And I bounced that ball up and down the street. I dribbled it to my elementary school nearly a mile away from my home. I dribbled it across High Ridge Road, a street akin to El Camino Real. I bounced, dribbled, and shot baskets in the winter, spring, summer, and fall. Shooting baskets and dribbling the ball were therapeutic for me. Recalling such a pleasant memory helped me see my young neighbor in a new light. Perhaps, bouncing that ball is his way of soothing himself during a time of such fear and uncertainty. Perhaps, like me, shooting baskets and dribbling the ball is this young child’s preferred form of therapy. Now I am comforted by the sound of his bouncing ball at 7:00 am.

I encountered his mother on the street yesterday. We stopped and chatted, albeit from a safe distance of about 10 feet.  She is a pharmacist and informed me that corona type viruses usually don’t thrive during warm weather. She said that she couldn’t wait for the warmer weather to arrive, hopeful that it would thwart this virus. She also shared theories on how to treat the virus. I thought to myself, I know where I am going if I get sick — across the street.

After our conversation, I continued on my way to Safeway. I rather enjoyed the neighborhood sights and sounds. I stopped and snapped pictures of the tulips a few doors down and allowed myself to get lost in all that is both familiar and foreign. My neighborhood is familiar because I drive and walk through it every day. It is foreign because I don’t take the time to reflect on the beauty around me. I am all too often in a hurry to get to my destination. I walk with the purpose of exercise and I don’t pay attention to the birds, flowers, people, and trees. I make phone calls during my walks and often text people. Or, I drive to simply get to my destination and I am frustrated by drivers that are too slow, or trains that slow me down. Yesterday, at the train tracks, I waited patiently as a freight train slowly passed and I snapped pictures of Old Rocklin.

On my way back from Safeway, I noticed a mobile coffee kiosk in the empty lot next to the Hula studio on Pacific. The name of the coffee kiosk sparked my interest: Rise. I chatted with the owners, from a safe distance of course, and learned that their grand opening was two days ago. They anticipated and planned the opening for months and decided to go for it despite all that is happening in our world. They gave me a free coffee with an immunity booster because I told them that I saw this new venture as a sign of hope during difficult times. Two scriptures came to mind and I shared my thoughts with them.

The other scripture that came to mind is from the prophet Isaiah:  “Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.” This is hard to remember during times of duress. Theologian Nicholas Lash wrote about “eastering” in ordinary. In other words, when we awaken to the world as it is we are capable of experiencing divinity in the ordinary circumstances of life: a young boy dribbling a basketball, two brave souls on a risky new business venture, or the tulips on my neighbors lawn.

In times like these will we cling to old narratives that have been constructed for us, or will we open our hearts and lives to new narratives that recognize that the light is everywhere and the darkness is the exception?