It's five AM on Friday and I am awake. I am thrown off by my upcoming trip to the mountains. Emmie is going with me today. This is immensely comforting although I know she will talk my head off the entire weekend. I am really looking forward to a contemplative weekend retreat. I either choose the comfort of this child, or the quiet of the wind. I can't bear the quiet yet, so a child it is! As I view the social landscape, I see friends are moving on with their lives, joining things—living. All the old arrangements are shifting. What was is passing. Soon Julianne and the kids were be gone from my home and I won't hear the sound of little feet running around, or homework being done in the dining room. (Or dogs barking for that matter!) Those scenes are passing into what used to be.
From a distance you can see how rapidly life moves...when yours stands stiller than theirs. I have lived on Half Moon now for almost two years and everything feels like yesterday was just yesterday. But for all those who I live with me in this city, I see that change is continual and rapid. They have been praying for change, and imperceptibly to them, it has changed...I wonder if they know it? Or just does it seem normal? What about me? Have things been happening to me? In me? I am not so anxious to say yes. I get up everyday, I think everyday, I reflect everyday but I don't know about change.
Yesterday the Lord asked me to describe what is on the horizon of my heart. It was an interesting experience. I didn't realize that those visions, nudges and inklings were of His doing. Of course, what else would they be. I see that God is talking to me all the time, I just don't settle down long enough to perceive it. Yes, the cloud is moving on in my life also...even though I know some critical components, I can't predict how it will happen. I only know that a simple overnight stay in a nearby mountain range has made me anxious—leaving behind all that is supremely comforting. When did I become such a scaredy cat? When "did the normal" feel as if it could be wiped away in a moment? These are the effects of grief. Well its only been six months.
Recently my brother in law (Hans' brother) got remarried. He had been widowed for a little over a year. I was simultaneously thrilled and horrified. I could not understand my reaction to his good news until I finally realized that it came from knowing that he was being taken away from the country of the dead. It was as if we who are widowed have leprosy and can only stretch our arms to those who are on the "inside" wishing ourselves a part of them—to somehow feel normal again. T's marriage was a reminder that I was being left outside with all the other lepers but that somehow he had been allowed to leave. I was thrilled that he could leave... and be loved again. But for me. . . I returned to my solitary confinement with only my rags to wear and greet other residents of this foreign country in which I now live. It was a momentary reaction and I'm over it now.
Do you see how I am out in left field all the time? Does any of this sound normal to you? I don't know myself any longer. In a way it is kind of exciting. My emotional landscape is totally different than anything I have ever known. It's kind of like being a newly arrived Martian on planet earth. The only hindrance is the fear that accompanies every decision, every turn in the road.
Well, I will make coffee now. Slowly I will make my way to start packing. All this work for a night under the stars. God, let there be a star over my house tonight. . . that once again points me to Christ?
I will think of you all tonight, sleeping under the same moon...El Paso, Las Cruces and the world. Wishing you a merry Christmas.
Blessings.
No comments:
Post a Comment