The Long Night

Will my heart ever be happy again? The long night is very long. I can't believe it will. Coming in contact with the harsh realities of life is quite earth shaking. Many souls cannot recover from it. I am still a baby, crying out for security—for someone to hold my hand. It is not the grown up me, it is the child within. It is still February, it is still winter. The winds outside remind me that the winter has not yet passed. My beloved is still on journey, or perhaps it is me that is still on pilgrimage, not him. There is a silence in the sunshine, that wavers in and out of the cold winds. A bit of warmth amidst the cold. March is around the corner then April. Then April 25th will come and how will it be? Who will I be? Where will I be? Through the corridors of darkness, my roots have plunged through caliche and it seems the ground has been broken up —new seeds from God may now be planted in my heart. Though through it all I have not seen His face. So quiet, resting, while the earth turns on its axis to bring the summer rains again.

But it is lunch time and I have only a echo to keep me company. The silence has not yet become my companion. This is a grief no one can take away but God.

Valentines Day finally comes!

 Valentines Day came today, Saturday Feb 18th.  I woke up in a state of pure bliss for some reason. My discovery  of the word “perichoresis” (to dance around) may have had a part in this unexpected gift. Perichoresis I quote "...has been called the 'divine dance,' that profound union of Father, Son and Holy Spirit that has gone on since eternity past, goes on now, and will go on forever, except that the dance of eternity will have a select audience—those whom the Father has foreknown, the Son has redeemed, and the Spirit has enlivened and sanctified. Perichoresis is a fellowship of three co-equal beings perfectly embraced in love and harmony and expressing an intimacy that no one can humanly comprehend. The Father loves the Son by means of the Spirit’s procession and the Son loves the Father by the same means. The Spirit loves both the Father and the Son and eternally proceeds from the Father and Son.” 


I was so excited about this divine dance that my heart was skipping like a lamb, joy nearing ecstasy. As I made breakfast for the kids, I asked myself, "Where have you felt like this before?" Surprisingly I discovered that my life has been filled with memories that contained this level of happiness. The earliest memory was traveling on Highway 28 to Old Mesilla on the back of a motorcycle, thanksgiving in a cabin in Cloudcroft,  traveling to Grand Junction with my new bridegroom, traveling through Tucson and the red rocks, camping in Idaho with my new man, going to Pasadena to go to grad school...leaving YWAM for the great unknown, wondering if  life existed outside of YWAM, moving into Oxford. All of them in some degree had this traveling component to them. My missionary heart already being revealed in the mundane. 


My heart was so entwined in my new gift from God, Hans,  that it could be said we were doing the perichoresis dance ourselves. So love starved were we, that we were nearly inseparable for the five years of our married life. And there was my Valentine's Day gift! The memory of a wondrous gift of companionship, equality, and an apostolic call were all part of God's great plan for me. Hans is in such awe inspiring company now—Paul, Thomas, Philip and John, all among the great cloud of witnesses, the communion of the saints. 


But in the last two years, I had forgotten that my life had been filled with such joys.  Perhaps it was the presence of  dark shadows and longings, like a cloud obscuring the sun.  Stay, Oh Sun, stay. Today I am like the disciples on the road to Emmaus who gingerly reached out to the Redeemer saying,  "The day is late, won't you stay with me a while..." 

Isaac's Revelation

As you know I am still processing Hans' passing from this earth. Yesterday at the mini-retreat I had significant insights, which as a thinker I absolutely needed in order to resolve it in my heart—unresolved mysteries which tumble around in my head make for all kinds unrest I cannot find peace or rest until they are resolved.  So what I am about to tell you is unusual, but honestly true. 


One of the troubling factors in settling Hans' account on earth, is that it felt like an event born out of chronological time. We were heading somewhere, divinely appointed and birthed in God and then—out of nowhere, this sudden and abrupt end occurs. I have not been able to make sense of this tragic interruption.

So that is where the Spirit was taking me too on my mini-retreat. The first song the Spirit choose was a sweet and peaceful instrumental. We were supposed to center down and "remember" the Lord, as the Psalmists says, "To magnify Him." As I looked upon my history with the Lord remembering his every incredible kindness to me, I said this prayer: "Words cannot adequately describe the incredible insights you have given me, the favors you have granted, the incomparable passion and love you have bestowed upon me in the past but which now has become so totally irreconcilable with the crushing and breaking asunder of my heart with which you have wounded me in the loss of my husband. It remains the biggest hurdle of my life and Lord, it stands between us." It was the barest moment of my life with God.


My eyes shifted to this picture which was sitting on my desk, as I looked at Hans securely holding my hand, God spoke these words into my heart,  "I gave you this man to guide you, train you, and love you. He will present you to me at the marriage feast and he will be proud of his work in you and of your efforts. Your arrival into maturity (perfection) was his end." I saw in this picture him leading me up the mountain to the throne of God. 


Of course, I was shocked. This meant so many things. Immediately it meant that in some way, my own spiritual life and discipleship was part of Hans' call and a completion of his mission on earth. I believe it means the same thing for all our children. Our maturity in part became the conclusion of his life. It meant that we had all reached a place that God could make a pivotal change in the course of direction and use for each one of us. 


For a moment, I wished that I had stayed immature and insecure so that he would have remained. But then I also understood, that at my completion he too had been perfected. He had reached the end (in love) for which he had been created. I am not talking about works as an end, but a spiritual place where the soul is in a state of compliance and readiness for eternity. I had seen this disposition in Hans toward the end of his life—a sweetness that was nearly unbearable. 


Then I asked God if it had been ok for Hans to die before our Isaac was born? "Isaac" being the seed of the promise? And God simply said, "You were his Isaac." By this I was struck dumb. It is unbearable to think of this when I remember all the fitful ways I behaved while  married. It was not a tame Isaac that Hans carried up Mt. Moriah,  but a rebellious and unformed Isaac. I could not compare with the earthly Isaac's submission to the will of God and trust in the Father that he displayed. 


It also occurred to me that Hans' "Isaac" was different than mine. This explained why we had so many difficulties in describing the vision of our mission. Now I see we were working on different blueprints with different endings.  My "promised son" was much different than his. I could feel my soul relax as I began to let the words sink in. But I was full of questions:


How can another person be someone's else's promise?
Can another person's dream mean the end of someone else?
Did Obi Wan Kenobi die because he knew he would be more useful to Luke as a ghost?
And weren't those Jesus' words too? It is better that I go away, so that the comforter may come to you? 
What did it mean for the bringing forth of my own dream? 


I asked Jesus to not shrink back, but to keep the windows open for me a bit more. I asked in the Spirit if I could touch his wounds, like Thomas did. He said, "You have. Your fingers are inside my wound as you grieve Han's loss. Your sorrow is because I let you into my wound and now it is your wound too." My sorrow will always be there as it is for Jesus too. Somehow the loss I feel is part of God's revelation of Himself to me. I am not alone in this terrible tragic pain I feel nearly all the time. 


This morning I did not feel the heaviness of being alone, abandoned or lost. I mysteriously felt part of a bigger picture, enabled with the designer's grace to live out knowing that somehow I had been incorporated into Hans and the Lord. 

Aah...where is my roaring fire?

I open the door to the backyard to let out the cat and close it quickly. I am not happy with what I see. The yard feels frozen and empty of life. The grass appears to have a thin layer of snow on it and the trees are splintery and colorless. How can anything good come from this? It is a season. That's all, a season of life. Spring reminds me that all things evolve and that time is God's best cultivating tool. Peering out the window, I see that only doves in the trees stay on, all the wasps and bees have disappeared. The wind is cold and uninviting, the tables are opaque with dust and watery from last summer's splashing. How, I wonder, can anyone enjoy themselves outside right now? The Denver storm has brought cold winds to El Paso and we feel blown about in this sunny city, we feel a frosty bite taken out of us. Our winters are pleasant not bold. But it is the chill to the soul that I feel the most...a hurry to close the door to the tomb...and wait for God's most majestic promises to reappear in the land. I forget that the earth below is waiting to spring forth too, that nature groans under the weight of its own longing..as well as I. We are growing even in the dark and soon it will be evident what we once were. My midnight oil burns bright inside the house, my mind running a thousand miles each evening. My portable university follows me everywhere I go and I store up grain to plant in the spring. Virgins congregate at my table every Thursday night and we enjoy a meal of rich bread and wine as we fill our minds with heavenly visions...but other than that, the winter is here for a while....I cannot yet put away my overcoat and boots. Patience...is wearing on the flesh... Aah..where is my roaring fire? Imagination is a wonderous gift of God. If you can think it...it creates another dream and the future remains fraught with interest and intrigue.

A New Heart for Valentine's Day...

You know that this blog is about grief, right? It is about the process of finding life again...and about the journey to a reality you can live with once again. My other blogs urban abbess and desert abbess are about sustaining life in an urban setting (to repair us for the apocalyse) and the desert abbess (to train us for the life of the cross); then there is tALITHA CUM, which is my life of despair moving toward wholeness, I pray. Today describing "how I am doing" I scrambled to find a meaningful metaphor that would keep me from crying but be truthful in the details. I scanned the horizon of my experience these last few months and the only thing I could see was a barren desert with a long winding road down the middle. No landscape, no flowers, no wildlife,just monotony and an endless series of hills that had to be climbed and put behind oneself. Not very exciting. But not stress free either. Because for all of its monochromatic hues, it was scary too. Just being on a road toward a destiny you know not, is scary. I repeatedly turn back looking for my normal life. Then I discover its gone. There is no normal to go back to. I walked into Hans' office this morning with the clear goal of getting him out of his desk chair and going for breakfast someplace, wanting to hear his voice again. But when I walked in, it was my own office I was looking at. I didn't open the closet door where all his clothes still hang and rest. Nope...its a whole new world and I am on this journey alone. How can any of this bring glory to God? I don't know. I only know that it is a desparate dark and lonely road, and I am traveling it with a silent companion who never speaks to me anymore. Just walks along side of me in a quiet softness. I have walked with Him too long to ever think He has abandoned me, but at the same time, it feels like it. My feelings will not however, undermine or erode my faith in Him. I will walk this road, step by step, but I am not happy about it at all. My spiritual mentor asks of me to look for something lovely today, some place that I stopped (in the spirit) and enjoyed myself and was refreshed. These moments are so hard to find. It is a really a stretch to find...there are no desert blooms that I can pick on this God-forsaken road. It occurred to me at some point today, that I am on the cross. There were a few this week. All of them deeply personal but highly revealing. All clearly point to the loss of love that I have experienced in this year. I promised one of my clients that she would get a new heart for Valentine's Day to replace her broken one. I pray that for myself as well.

The Missing Leg

Its still cold outside but even colder inside. I long for days of uninterrupted silence where I can be alone with God. My juices are not flowing this day, will be locked into an embrace of my inner healing posture with a client for several hours which requires an incredible amount of physical fortitude..on the the part of my brain. Tracking people's thoughts is hard work. Often they do not know where they are going either. But we know that ultimately the Spirit will guide them to the right place. Afterwards I can do nothing but eat and rest. In the old days, my honey would take me out for lunch. Today I meet with a group of widows to eat together and complain about the weather. Perhaps its the weather in our inner gardens that we are ultimately grieving...

I met with a man who lost his wife. He said half of his heart died the day she did. He can't get started living anymore, the fuse has been pulled. He is young and has decades ahead of him. I hope and pray that soon God will set him free from the weight of loss upon him. Perhaps by Valentine's day he will have his heart back or grow another one. The wound in my heart is healing, but there is no growth yet to replace what was ripped away. Left is just a cauterized wound, not bleeding as much as before...but now I feel like the guy with the missing leg. He still tries to walk on it, only to fall down and then remember...Oh, it's gone.

The Long Winter

Well it has been a long cold winter for me, just coming through another loss of sorts. Daughter Julianne and kids rejoined her husband in a nice home near the school. I took the time to spread out my wings (and furniture) throughout the spacious place. I have five desks and am constantly running between them. My work is all over the place where I used to be in two little rooms earlier. But these are all inanimate objects that keep me busy, the real story is just below the surface. How am I doing? Well...I just don't know. I am still as confused as ever about my life and the direction it's taking. I know there is movement, because every morning I put one foot in front of the other. But spring has not arrived, spiritually speaking, and I wonder if I will ever get out of the cocoon of my sheltered life. I feel frozen most of the time, unsure whether to go left or right. It's a debilitating season. My wings have been clipped and I cannot even go from tree to tree anymore. My groom still lies in the upper valley and I only make it up there every two weeks. I change the flowers/decoration every season and soon I will have to have a room just for them. So I don't think this is working out well. Surely there is a better plan. Plus the expense of buying decoration is increasing. I know Hans would rather I buy food. I spent three days in the dark last week, the electricity was turned off. Oddly enough it was an enlightening time for me. I was quite happy inspite of the terrible inconvenience of not having heat or light in the evening. Most of the day was spent traveling around in my car charging my phone. Simplicity is the goal or at least one of the goals. I spent half of my life building my nest and the second half taking it down. Where is the sense in that?

Todays meditation is about living a life in harmony and balance. Many of us can suffer from wanting too much. I think I fall into this camp. Last night at Jume's, the lectio was from Mark 3. The story of Jesus' family coming to rescue him thinking that he had lost his mind. The story begins with the statement, "There were so many people surrounding him that he didn't even have a place or time to eat." Jesus' family is coming to claim "custody" over him and take him home.  But Jesus has this startling thing to say when he is told that they are outside looking for him. He virtually denies knowing them. Instead he looks at the ragtag group surrounding him and says "You are my family." I take it to mean that he is saying, "My loyalties are to you." Clarifying he says, "Whoever does the will of the Father is my brother, mother, etc.," I pondered this and wondered what were these simple folks doing that qualified them as "doing the will of the God?" I long to do the will of God as well. In fact, I am simply feverish about it. So...these people were doing it. Sitting around His feet. That is the simple answer. I know this sounds ridiculously corny, but this is what is revealed. This is God's will. But I want to do...and I suppose there is a time in which we will be "sent out." But first we must sit at his feet.

I keep thinking about the warning that the OT gives against false prophets. It says, that "those evil men who prophesy in my name, did not even bother to darken my counsels, did not stand in My chamber—did not receive My word for My people." I suppose this is what it means to first sit at his feet. And I believe it is possible to want too much, if we can't even sit at his feet and listen to him. All who went —first sat.

The reading for today from the online retreat from Creighton asked the question, "Who do you admire?" "Who is your model for living a life in balance and harmony." A life that is free—free from the desire to be famous, successful, materially rich, sensuously blessed, etc., It took me a long time to find three people who I admire and who I want to emulate. But I finally found them. First there was Martin Luther, Thomas Merton and Henri Nouwen. They all had something in common, or threads of my life showed up in theirs. These are the qualities I admire: long hours of dedicated study, good scholarship, pondering over the hidden meanings of the Bible, the hidden manna or wisdom. 2) long hours of dedicated prayer and communion with God. 3) The ability to write, teach and preach. These are the things to which I want to dedicate the rest of my life. Emulation precedes imitation they say. I also think that these people had the courage to say what they thought. I tend to couch my language in terms that are culturally relevant to people and politically correct. At least in the sense that they won't stumble over them. But this often has the effect of blunting the prophetic edge in them.

I wonder, what else can be lost, if I do this, just give myself over to this endeavor. What is the cost of this life? My mentor says, that we must be willing to give up all things that do not lend themselves to the end for which we were created. And conversely to use all things toward that end if needed. That is a good paradigm for living, although it doesn't sound very balanced does it?

Last night I saw some new faces...emerging leaders and young adults. It shows the cycle of life in process and for that I am grateful.