The last several weeks a section from the book Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Thurston, a classic of black literature, has come to mind a number of times. I cited it long ago in Just Think, and since it’s been revisiting me recently I want to call it your mind here as well. The book is set in Florida in the 1920s, and the quote here is when Janie, the main character, and her husband are taking shelter as a hurricane, the “screaming wind,” is coming through their town.
“The wind came back with triple fury, and put out the light for the last time. They sat in company with the others in other shanties, their eyes straining against crude walls and their souls asking if He meant to measure their puny might against His. They seemed to be staring at the dark, but their eyes were watching God.”
Their eyes were watching God. I’ve always loved that line. It begs the question—regardless of who you are or where you live or the color of your skin or what storm is approaching or overhead (Covid perhaps?)—what does it mean be “watching God”? I think this question is key to hope. I’d love to hear your thoughts. What might it mean to be watching God from behind a face mask? From our couches as we watch the news each night sitting in company with others but from whom we’re isolated?