Life Journey

I just turned off the stove and sat down; noticing it’s already 9:45 PM, cooking can wait until tomorrow. At 8 PM, I only meant to rest for 5 minutes, but instead I read for an hour, did a few things, and the evening evaporated. That’s fine; it was a productive day, and  an enjoyable evening.

That 5 minute rest took a while because I just bought my first Kindle book. I had to install the app, download the book, and test it on two devices. It’s workable on a PC, but elegant on an iPad. I love digital reading! You can highlight, cut, paste, share, and quote… In fact, I want to share a quote with you. The book I’m reading was recommended by the facilitators of a retreat I recently took, and it’s profound — “One Thousand Gifts” by Ann Voscamp. Here’s what struck me tonight:

“I wonder too … if the rent in the canvas of our life backdrop, the losses that puncture our world, our own emptiness, might actually become places to see. To see through to God. That that which tears open our souls, those holes that splatter our sight, may actually become the thin, open places to see through the mess of this place to the heart-aching beauty beyond. To Him. To the God whom we endlessly crave. Maybe so. But how?”

Voskamp, Ann (2011-01-04). One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are (p. 22). Zondervan. 

I appreciate Ann’s openness and honesty, her deep gaze into the brokenness of life. As I shared in a recent post, I’ve had crises in life, and crises of faith. One of them I could barely see God through for years, although slowly, light began filtering in through cracks. Another catastrophic crisis rent a hole so deep and sudden that the light poured in as I cried, “God, help me!” For years, although my heart-wound was still open, I always sensed the presence of God; in fact, I felt a deep link to Jesus’ suffering through my own. So I’ve personally experienced crises that drove out the light, and crises that drove me to it. Or, as Ann would say, I’ve chosen to ask “Why, God?,” in doubt and denial, and I’ve chosen to say “Help, God!,” and cling closer than ever. When not in crisis, I’ve had times of sharing frequent moments with God, and extended periods of spiritual drought. Times of choosing awareness, and times of losing awareness.

Right now, I’m seeking, and sensing, God, but I’m aware of a distance. Weariness dominates my experience; joy is a ray of sunshine granting respite. I want the reverse experience — to bask in the light, with occasional shadows. I’m seeking it, and my inability to create it myself is driving me to use it as a window to the other-world.

What about you — are you basking in the light, living with open hands, or have you clenched your fists, as Ann did after experiencing deep pain? Consider taking a walk this weekend to do a personal “systems check” and see where you are on the spectrum.

On my way outside to retrieve my phone from my car (I stash it there on dancing nights), I pass the just-opening, prolific, floribunda roses climbing up my porch posts. I love the profusion of colour! There wasn’t much of a garden when I bought the house, but this old faithful is a gem!

Making my way back up the walk, I can’t help but notice other plants — the shoots emerging between the paving stones, the “wild flowers” (aka weeds) towering between the carpet blue spruce branches, and a dandelion in the walk that is just about to flower. How did that emerge overnight? I know my problems will be multiplied if I let it go to seed, so, I tug on the root gingerly, without the aid of my handy weeder. Whump! A 5 mm-diameter root emerges, almost 15 cm long, with a very satisfying sound!

I haven’t seen the weeder since last year. I missed it sorely on my first day tending the herb garden this year. I resolved that today would be the day I replace it, although it’s probably just under the ivy (but which clump)?

Root in hand, I proceed up the porch steps and check the mailbox. I keep my tools in the cubbyhole beneath it for dandelion emergencies all summer. Without hope, I check the cubbyhole again – nope, that’s just the trowel – and see a second blue handle out of the corner of my eye. Aha! My weeder! It’s been under the euonymous all along! How did I miss it when I traced the misplaced vine under it last weekend, seeking its root?

Isn’t that the way it is with God? You seek, and seek, and seek, knowing that what you want is close at hand, but you can never grasp it. That high, that job, that relationship — you’ve experienced it briefly, and you want to grab onto it with both hands, and put it in your cubbyhole. But it eludes you – maybe with periodic flashes of blue, maybe with deafening silence, maybe after years of prayer.

Just when you give it up, and accept that it isn’t to be found, the elusive item falls right into your lap. Ta-da! No effort. No prayers. No nights of longing. Just voilà!

“In their hearts humans plan their course,
    but the Lord establishes their steps.” Proverbs 16:19 (NIV)

I had lunch with a friend today, and he asked if I ever had spiritual doubts. “Of course,” I responded, “who doesn’t?” He admitted having been scared to ask the question, and relieved that instead of judging him, I empathised with him. He’s spoken to others who didn’t respond kindly, and he’s gun shy about voicing his doubts out loud.

Why do we do that? Are we so insecure in our own faith that others’ doubts scare us? Do we feel that we need to defend God? Do we believe refuting or glossing over people’s  struggles will spur them on to faith? If so, would it be an honest faith?

I also have struggled, and deeply. Like Job, during my darkest period of doubt, Christian friends multiplied my suffering by calling my doubt un-Christian. Even those I loved and respected, including a pastor and close friends, were uncomfortable with my questioning, and shut it down or brushed it off. Only one friend was supportive and loving, and I talked to her many times throughout my struggles.

As we ate our soup, I shared how lonely my doubtful time was. How I longed for sad songs at church! I couldn’t honestly sing our worship songs for years. And could we please read the complete Psalm — the “Praise God, hallelujah” part, and the “Where are you, I’m drowning” part? After the light dawned and I found a deepened trust in God, I wondered if I should lead “worship for dark times” so that others wouldn’t feel so alone.

Mentioning sad songs struck a chord (probably a minor one). My friend recounted singing a song he wrote at church. Afterwards, someone told him it had a beautiful melody; too bad the words were dark. Hurt, he wondered if something was wrong with him, and if sharing doubts would ostracise him from the “club.” I assured him I remembered that song, and found it beautiful. When someone shares their heart, no matter the content, we should honour the gift.

Before I’d personally faced doubts, especially as a new believer, I might have responded the same. I was pretty enthusiastic in those days! Now, I take care to listen openly with people, no matter where they are in their faith walk. I’ve been there; how can I judge? I’m glad to share my own experience, and leave the rest up to God. His greatest commandment is to love, not convert.

8 AM

Today is my day. I’m almost giddy by the numerous accomplishments I can achieve by dinner time with diligence! Rising early, I don’t feel guilty by writing first; the whole day stretches luxuriously ahead of me!

9 AM

I decide to tackle the living room. There’s a substantial amount of clutter here — challenging, but manageable, and enough to make a significant difference when tidied. First, I’d better have breakfast to give me energy for the task ahead.

10 AM

I’m feeling a bit scattered. I took time to do the dishes, then brought a box to the bedroom and folded laundry. Returning to the living room, I’m indecisive about what to tackle first. I don’t want to put the sewing basket away before replacing that button; should I sew it first, or clean and spray my leather coat before storing it for fall — a bigger item, so a bigger impact? If I do that, should I clean and spray my boots too, which are in the bedroom, awaiting treatment? Or should I sort through my CDs, discard empty cases, and upload “keepers” into itunes? My giddy joy is giving way to paralysis.

11 AM (to be honest, 12 PM)

Instead of cleaning, I’ve been browsing for new themes for my blog. Get off the computer! It’s your day, and you need the mental space clearing up some physical space will afford you! Get offline now!

9PM

I did get off the computer, and I did get a lot done. I started with the leather while listening to CDs — a great choice. Bolstered by that success, I attempted the button. Discovering I sewed it in the wrong place, I recognised why it’s been there for 4 months, and it’s now last on my list. I continued working until 5 PM, then “treated” myself to mowing the lawn, weeding, and training the honeysuckles up the porch trellis. The vine in the back is so prolific it collapsed the top of the fence. I’ve called a handyman, but to be honest, I like the honeysuckle more than the fence. I brought two bouquets in to scent the house.

As my final treat, I read a magazine I want to throw away in the backyard after gardening. The living room isn’t finished yet, but I can see the progress, and it was all I hoped for and imagined for this spring Saturday.

I awoke early, although I didn’t intend to. Listening to the birds chirping through the open window, I started daydreaming about going to Assisi this summer. In April, a member on one of my NGO boards mentioned that she spends a month working in Assisi every summer (how do I get that job?). Knowing its name only from the saint, Francis of Assisi, and that she felt a strong spirituality in the idyllic hills, I made a mental note to visit it one day.

Last week, while having lunch with a friend, he asked what my plans were after Mom’s death. “I don’t know,” I said, “but I know I need rest, and I want to travel.”

“Do you prefer beaches or cities?”

“I love beaches, and think I need some ‘down’ time, but I also love history, and exploring new cultures.”

“When I was burned out, I went to Assisi for 4 days, then took a Mediterranean cruise.”

Assisi again! The thought of a peaceful, spiritual retreat centre draws me. I do believe that a restful, and wrest-ful, time is needed to bathe my spirit before the next phase of my journey. I think I would face some “dark nights of the soul” if I could only find the space. Two years ago, I went on a week-long silent Ignatian retreat. I had warm, embracing moments, and vivid visions of wrestling demons (with God’s help, Christ won).

So with my “found” hours this morning, I’m going to research Assisi. If the stars align, maybe I can go there this summer.