peace

In the last few weeks, everything I thought I understood about grace, woundedness, healing, change, and love has been challenged. Everything that was solid became flimsy and I found myself saying 'yes' to the most frightening moment of obedience I have ever faced. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. It was pain-filled. It was wounding. And yet, in the midst of soul pain deeper than anything I had imagined possible, in the midst of a hurt so deep and heavy it often feels as though I’ll be crushed beneath it, there is another element at work. Jesus. In the depths of my soul, deeper within than I thought the extent of my soul even reached, the peace of Jesus is dwelling. It is that unwavering peace, the one that little children sing about in Sunday school...

"I've got the peace that passes understanding down in my heart."

This peace is undeniably wonderful. It is a purveyor of life and hope. It comforts in the moments when sadness rolls over me in waves, threatening to drown my soul in sorrow. It gives joy and even happiness when the sadness abates and the light comes in. Rumi said that the wound is the place where the light enters you. I never understood this before. But now, it is clear. We must sometimes say yes to being wounded, to being broken. Because it allows the light to enter us. I do such an excellent job at duck taping myself together, trying to avoid dents and scratches and broken parts when the best thing is only found in being broken. Broken for ourselves, for our loved ones, for strangers. To be fully broken, so that we may be fully healed. 

The growth I feel happening in my soul is beyond my understanding. The pain is exhausting, the growth astounding. The work that Jesus is doing in me is being wrought by many elements. There is of course, Jesus himself, in all his love and grace and glory. And there are the beautiful souls by whom I am surrounded. Some who share my home, others who share different parts of my life; all are present, loving me and encouraging me as I struggle. Reminding me of the peace that, in moments of deep sadness, I willfully overlook. Reminding me of the growth, the grace, the good change happening through the pain; a change so deep and good that it could not have come through any other means.

For the Interim Time

When near the end of day, life has drained
Out of light, and it is too soon
For the mind of night to have darkened things,

No place looks like itself, loss of outline
Makes everything look strangely in-between,
Unsure of what has been, or what might come.

In this wan light, even trees seem groundless.
In a while it will be night, but nothing
Here seems TO believe the relief of dark.

You are in this time of interim
Where everything seems withheld.

The path you took to get here has washed out;
The way forward is still concealed from you.

"The old is not old enough to have died away;
The new is still too young to be born."

You cannot lay claim to anything;
In this place of dusk.
Your eyes are blurred;
And there is no mirror.

Everyone else has lost sight of your heart
And you can see nowhere to put your trust;
You know you have to make your own way through.

As far as you can, hold your confidence.
Do not allow your confusion to squander
This call which is loosening
Your roots in false ground,
That you might come free
From all you have outgrown.

What is being transfigured here is your mind.
And it is difficult and slow to become new.
The more faithfully you can endure here,
The more refined your heart will become
For your arrival in the new dawn.



~John O'Donohue, For the Interim Time, To Bless The Space Between Us

unease

Plans. We all make them, have them, destroy them, love them, hate them, and watch them crumble before our eyes.

We also hope. Our hopes are not so solid and tangible as plans and often we don't realize how much store we've put in them until they are removed. When my plans are shattered, I tend to respond in anger or frustration. However, shattered hopes are a different story. They break my heart.

Months ago, I was living in a combination of wonderment and unease about the clear voice in my soul telling me not to make a plan. I had no idea what God was up to then and I know even less of what he is up to now. I was doing pretty good living without a plan. Then I started thinking ahead to the fall and pondering a few possibilities. I had one thing in mind that, without realizing, I had come to depend upon as my one concrete hope. A couple days ago, that hope became an absolute impossibility. My heart hurt and I cried for the once open door now slammed shut in my face. For one reason or another, that path is now closed to me. Even though I never felt convicted that it was the direction I was meant for, it was something and it gave me hope.

Now I find myself more uneasy and directionless than ever. As my roommate Ally gently reminded me earlier today, I probably won't receive any direction or plan until I stop looking for one and stop snatching at every ghost of possibility within reach. Though I have no idea what God is teaching me through this time of not knowing, I am comforted by his presence, his being in the core of my existence. And I hope that the not knowing will teach me to live generously into my own unease, embracing the quite tug of longing deep in my soul instead of trying to make it go away. The inner longings of my soul are there for a purpose, wether I understand that purpose or not.

I am existing in between what I once knew and what I may know in the future. For now, I continue to float in this sea of unease, as my eyes adjust to see the wonderment found here.

Sleep, Sunrise, & Silver Lining

Forgive the absurdity of the following. It was 4am and I felt inspired by my next door neighbor who had been listening to talk radio since three :)


Paper Wall


Thank you, dear stranger
Who's life sounds, through
Our shared wall bring
To my attention the
Sacrament of grey light
And shadow, before sun king
Rebels against the power
Of the crescent moon.

Thank you, dear neighbor
Whom I never see
Yet know your voice
Made familiar by intervals
Of eavesdropped chatter
And midnight mumblings.
From you learned I
The art of hearing.


Thank you, dear friend
For calling to mindfulness
My slumbering senses.
I could have missed
Without your aid the
Eternal, ethereal conversation
Of birds, too sacred
For the hours of day.

Thank you, and thanks
Again. To you
I Owe more than
Raccoon eyes at breakfast,
When he asks how I've slept. To
You, I owe
My wakeful senses.

Anam

I love Gaelic. It is the most beautiful and captivating language I have ever heard. One of my favorite authors, John O'Donohue (an Irishman of course), says of Gaelic that it is "...such a poetic and powerful language, it carries the Irish memory." Imagine it! A language, something so intangible yet so powerful and real that it can hold within itself the memory of a people. The ancient memory of the Irish people is cradled in the Gaelic language. How cool is that?

Though I don't speak Gaelic, there are a few words I have learned since my time in Ireland. One of my favorites is Anam, meaning soul. In the Celtic understanding, the soul is not something that resides in the physical body (the 'clay' body), rather the clay body resides in the presence of the soul. The light of the soul envelopes the body, shining through it. This might be the most beautiful picture of how the spirit of God enfolds us daily, by being present in our soul. The presence of God is not in us, rather it is engulfing us. It's not a little flame that lives inside us so much as it's a fire that surrounds us. That sounds kinda awesome to me...

the crickets have the answer

A chorus of bugs murmur outside my house, their voices floating in through our screen door. The sun set hours ago and as hard as I have tried, I can't focus on homework. A question plays in my head, like a broken record that repeats the same scrap of melody over and over....What are you doing Lord? I really don't get it...what are you doing? The night answers in wordless bug song and guitar strumming filters through a closed  door...look about you. take stock. watch me...and wait.


I am a planner. I like making 'To Do' lists every day, sometimes separate lists for each part of the day. I have separate lists of homework for each class, lists for free time, lists for grocery shopping, lists for paying bills and doing my budget. Lists for long-term and short-term life goals, lists of books to read, and my favorite, a bucket list. I do not like living without a plan. Just to clarify, in the end it doesn't bother me if the plan changes (my plans usually do. mostly because Jesus thinks He has a better idea. And let's face it, He's always right.) I like having a plan to give me direction so I can move forward in what I feel is an efficient manner. And I expect my plan to get blown to smithereens at some point. I am OK with this. This is a system I understand.


Pondering the age old question of life post-college, it seemed reasonable to make a plan. Nothing big, just a little something to help me not freak out over the blank slate of the future. So I started concocting a plan....until that still small voice said stop. wait, what? but I like plans. Plans are good for me. They keep from getting stuck in ruts. That's good, right? no. but-- no buts. stop. What do I do without a plan? you don't need one. i got this. just watch me. don't make a plan.


This was a new experience for me. Usually I make my little plan, start walking and He gives me a shove in whatever direction I am supposed to go. Now though, it seems God has a new tactic. Whatever is coming, I feel like it's going to be more than a shove can guide me through. So when asked the question (and it's asked often), the conversation goes something like this:


person: so, what are your plans after graduation?
me: I don't have a plan. Jesus said I'm not allowed.
person: *insert blank stare*


I desperately want to make a plan. But I won't. For some reason that I do not see or comprehend, God is asking me to trust in His faithfulness. He is faithful. He provides for the crickets outside my door and how much more will he provide for me? I have no idea what is coming. Wether it's a wild adventure on the other side of the globe or simply ordinary days spent pursuing the lover of my soul, I am getting excited. I am terrified because I do not understand. And I am excited, because I do not have to. 

may the clay dance

This speaks so strongly to my soul, I just had to share it!

On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.

And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.

And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.

~John O'Donohue, Beannacht, Echoes of Memory