How He Saves a Life

I believe Him to be kind. I know Him to be more than words could express. These moments held within their framework vestiges of a time and moment in life where pain knew no boundaries. Revisiting those places in safety as to let healing flow is His specialty. His kindness, gentleness, patience and strength amaze me. Utterly amaze me. Upon a day liken unto any other day, He would press in as to bring healing to the depths of my soul.......................

Startled I looked at Him. He had taken me to one of our favorite places. I had begun to take in the landscape; grateful for my feet being placed upon that soil, I took a deep breathe. “I thought that bringing me here was for rest.” I said sheepishly, trying to avoid looking at what I saw before Him. “I would have never thought you would bring that here.”

“You thought wrong,” was His response.

“But....” I started to choke. I couldn't catch my breathe. Tears started to stream down my face. “This feels cruel.”

“Times more often than not have pain. That's not all they will have though.”

“I don't want to do this,” I said.

“I understand.” Was His only response.

I stared at the board that lay in front of Him. I looked at the day. I took in the scenery. “How did you... why would you.. how could that even get here?” Finally the question and its words were forced forth from my mouth.

His look back to me was serious; calling me to know Him, imploring me to trust what I knew of Him and to let this moment be what He wanted it to be...

“Please, stay with me.” Hearing those four words come out of His mouth brought me back into awareness of space, time, Him. “I don't believe I can do this,” was my response. “I know you can.” And as He said those words I looked away.

I tried to ground into the space He had brought to me or me to it; I tried to allow the air to land upon my flesh and saturate my soul. I tried to breathe in that air, calling all of what I am to settle. “It is too much.” Seeing Him, our meadows, along with the rose hued air had always restored my soul quickly. Now seeing that “game,” here, was causing interior conflict I knew not how to handle.

Dear reader,

I will pause in the story, to help you understand how to picture this scene. Picture the most beautiful scene you have ever known in your entire life. Allow remembrances of the most fantastic times of peace and joy to saturate your being. Now interject into that place the most horrific element of your life's experience. How would that change that environment? Going from delight to horror in a nanosecond. These moments would be liken to that.

Mims....

“Come sit with me.” He motioned for me to sit in front of Him, allowing for the board to be between us. All I could feel was air being trapped in my throat. I could hear my heart beating in my ears. I could feel my head clouding over, as my mind grappled to contain the immensity of disparaging elements existing before my eyes. “Breathe. Sit.” Feeling robotic I moved forward. My right hand went down upon the soil, the grass; whose songs I had relished in, been nurtured by, felt strength from, received my body as I sat.

I looked into His eyes. Priest. Savior. King. Ruler. Friend. Confidant. Lover. Everything in His eyes spoke loudly than any words He could have uttered. He did not speak the words, “forgive me,” but I could have sworn He did as He opened up my hand, placing a wooden piece into my palm. I let out the sharpest of screams. The piece fell from my hand and as if in slow motion fell to the earth. “You....” And I stood up dusting myself off and walking, no storming, away. I was not looking back. This was ridiculous.

Screaming into the air, “How could you? That was only cruel. Why would you?”

“Because you need me to.” Startled, I looked towards my right side. “I have nothing to say.” To which He replied that He knew that that wasn't true. I'll never forget that smile upon His face. As the damns of self control broke wide open and a tirade exploded. When I was done, all He said; again with that smile on His face, was “I knew you had something to say.” And He smiled all the more.

“Tell me about failing.”

“I'm not going there with you.”

We walked in silence for what seemed like forever. “Tell me about failing.”

“No.”

Again step by step, quietness surrounded as peace emanated forth from His body.

“Tell me about failing.”

I don't remember crumbling to the grassy floor; knees, elbows, hands, forehead. I felt outside of my body as my hands beat at the ground. Sobs racking my body.

Then tears, not my own, fell upon my hands. Startled I looked up only to see Him, weeping with me; in His hand the piece. “I'm sorry.” The apology wasn't His to give. He wasn't apologizing for these moments; but for that one.

I could feel the cold starting at my toes creeping up my legs into my torso, once again laying hold of my heart, once again freezing my insides. He placed His hand upon my chest, heat blasted through my being, coursing down my torso.

All I could do was lean. Exhaustion saturated every cell. Time doesn't seemingly matter so much upon the grasses of that meadow. Whether it was a day or a thousand years, I laid still. Rising and falling to His chest, His breathe, His heart beat. I must have fallen asleep. I woke to the scent of food cooking upon a fire. “Fish.” I said with a smile, remembering all the stories of Him. “Of course,” He spoke back with a smile.

“Talk to me about this,” He said as He opened the palm of His hand and there was the piece.

I looked at Him. I looked at it. I held out my hand. He looked at me. I looked back at Him. With slow and direct intention keeping His eyes upon me, He placed in it my hand. Closed my hand around it and closed His hand around mine. I knew He knew the story. I knew He knew it better than I did. He wanted me to talk.

“Tell me about failing?”

I just looked at Him. Mouth glued shut.

He turned back to the fire. I watched as He picked up a plate, put a piece of fish upon it, and turned back to me. “Eat with me?” He spoke with quiet affection. I took the plate from His hands. In silence we sat, side by side. I could feel Him.

Those moments I will forever remember. In regards to His kindness, patience, generosity of Spirit. For He knows how we are made, that we are but dust, elevated only through His breathe and will; but granted such dignity that it is incomprehensible.

It became His kindness that would win out in those moments. It was His patience that would be utterly attractive. It was His gentleness that would fill me with courage and strength. I began to speak but as if from off in a daze. “No.” He placed His hand upon my knee. “Here.” He pointed to His chest. He pointed to Him, His eyes. I knew where He wanted me. I looked into His eyes, “ I can't do this.”

“Look.” He pointed to the horizon. I knew them in a moment. Two men walking with a woman in between them. I didn't know what to do; so much in me wanted to run towards them, so much in me wanted to run the other way, so much in me wanted to hide behind Him. They looked so different. So happy. So at ease. So beautiful. I sat glued. Watching. My heart pounding.

Shame began to push its way into my heart. “No.” He spoke with such wonder and authority that it

rattled me. “That is not to be yours.”

“Go greet your friends.” He said.

I placed my hand upon His shoulder and pushed myself up. The woman, who now looked like a girl, began

to run before I could and one of the men wasn't that far behind. I touched their faces, held their hands, laughed and cried. The man was the one who then held me at arm's distance, looking at me. His eyes held more in those moments then words could ever have uttered. And we knew. We both knew.

Drawing my attention to the other who was standing off to the side, I was motioned to go. I didn't make it two steps when I was being lifted into the air and swung around. Laughter and sobs mingled as I touched His face, as I ran my hands down his neck. As I touched him. Looking for all the scars. “He is the only one who remains scarred in flesh.” The man spoke.

The others joined us and the four us went for a walk. The three of them and me. Not many words exchanged. It was being in one another's presence my heart had longed for. But it was coming time. I knew it. Atmosphere changes are my specialty. I think He lets it happen so I get used to the shifts of time and space before they occur, as to not be jarred by them.

There were tender embraces, words, looks, knowings. Then they were gone.

“Tell me about failing.”

“You have lots of tricks up your sleeve, don't you.” I said, looking up at Him as I tilted my head towards the right.

“Lots.” He smiled.

Knowing me all to well, He brought me back to focus. “Tell me about failing.”

I lowered my chin.

“No.” From here, and He lifted up my chin, bringing my eyes into line with His. “Not. From here. Tell me about failing.”

And that's how the talk began. And that's how He saves a life......

Joy unspeakable finds expression...

“Mims.”

“Mims, come with me.”

I looked up and saw Him and smiled. Closed my eyes, hugged my pillow, pulled my blanket back up over me.

“You aren't dreaming. I want you to wake up. I want you to take a walk with me. I want to show you something.” As if a young child on Christmas morning, He was being so insistent. As for me I was in that in between place, though I had heard Him; though I could now see Him, my room, my bed, I was still unconvinced this was really happening. Or that it couldn't wait a few minutes while I woke up.

“Come with me.”

I looked up at Him one more time. One more time rolled over. I could feel His presence growing in the room. I smiled at the ways He moves upon humanity. Other memories of other times with Him, with all that makes up the unseen, made me smile. I lifted my body out of bed. Went to the bathroom. I could feel excitement brewing. I knew not why.

“Look out the window.” He said with the grandest of smiles.

Now it was Christmas morning for me; as my smile must have turned grand. Filling up my backyard were animals of all sorts. I noticed the creature that had once come to my laundry room delivering a message, others both of this world and of other places. And I smiled. Then it wasn't just animals. To my right were different ones who I had touched, interacted with, been protected by; again, it was my smile, my Christmas morning.

“Why?”

“Because Christmas morning does arrive and extravagance is called for upon occasion. I wanted to lift your heart and make it glad.”

“You did.”

“Can I tell you something?” He said in such a weird way.

“You actually ask permission?” Was my reply.

“More often then you think.”

That statement gave me pause. The power behind it pulled my attention to look Him in the face. There was great strength there, along with it was immense sorrow, concern, and a fragility I didn't know if I had ever seen upon Him before. Reminiscent of Him as having emptied Himself of divinity, He understood our frame, He knew our frailty. That knowledge, that experience would never leave His personhood. While now in fullness; there were still the scars, still the remembrance, still the experience upon Him. I reached for His hand. The moment became more. I know not the words to describe. I lack them. In this moment my heart was reaching towards Him, compassion for Him, compassion for the knowledge He bore. It was still. It was quiet. It was between us. Creature caring about Creator. Human caring about Divine.

The essence of the atmosphere pulsated. Again no words. I hadn't been able to keep His gaze, hold my eyes towards His face in such a long time. Now, I couldn't take my glance away. I kept seeing deeper and deeper into His holiness, into His desire. Something was changing deep within me. I was caring more and more about Him, about His ways, about what He wanted. I dared not speak. Our hearts held each other. My heart cared more for Him than I ever imagined possible, while walking into the depths of openness of His, that while I knew possible, I had never touched nor certainly ever walked within.

“Know me.” He whispered. Tears streaming down His face. It wasn't a man pleading. It was my God imploring.

In that phrase, “More often then you think,” He had said more than if He had sat me down to give me one thousand and twenty lessons. In those five words, I was held within a space, a glance, that poured His essence into me and through me and upon me.

There was no moving. There was no more words to say. There was to allow that which had transpired to go deep. Not ready to move forward unto the next moment. This one hadn't come to fullness into my depths yet. It needed time.

Again my gaze found His face. His mercy, His compassion, His knowledge, His understanding, His nature, His nurture, Him; all was found there. We were separate in these moments; each our own unique and different self, except as the moment grew, so did something more. The space between us became less. I was still me. He was still He. Yet not so much. I closed my eyes. I closed my eyes as to partake into depths of this that sight would not allow but sensation would. I needed to close my eyes, not process with my mind, allow my heart its journey.

He began to sing. “You and me......” and I smiled. My heart smiled. Again I paused. In my head I spoke to myself, 'I am not in a rush.' To which He burst out with the grandest of laughs I think I had ever heard. “What?”

“I love you.” He said while still smiling as His body still moved with the fragrance of joy, laughter, delightful pleasure. “What?” Not asking in regards to His statement of love, more in repetition to my earlier question.

“You, you make me glad.” Was His response. He spoke the words, your thought, at the same time that my awareness arrived at the realization that He needed me not to speak to know that which was my thoughts. “Ah,” I said, “That I'm not scurrying away in a pace you've been trying to convince me isn't right for me right now.” There were no words in His response, just a large smile.

Then again it was His turn to become like the child upon the morning of Christmas. The spark flew back into His eyes. If possible His joy increased a million fold. Palpable to every sense and sensation upon my flesh. “Are you careful with that?” I wasn't even aware those words were going to come out of my mouth. “What?” He playfully answered. I knew He knew even more about this conversation about to take place than I, however I played my part and continued, “Your joy.”

I continued again, “It felt like an atomic atom splitting wide open, yet you keep it so that creature and creation can touch it.”

He looked at me. “I wish I knew what you were thinking in moments like these,” I said. “Your look is deep, what you know and understand deeper still. I wish I knew what ran through your thoughts.”

“You are touching them more and more now.” Was His reply as He looked at me, holding my glance His way, being serious in the moment.

“This is part of the call to know you.”

“It is.”

So many thoughts ran through my head, so many of the lessons He had been teaching me, and I began to let them interweave together. Forming out my soul with the seeds of understanding He had been planting for a very long time.

“This time with you feels different.”

“It is.”

“We aren't in a hurry.”

“We?”

I paused. Looked back at Him. I knew what He was saying, “I. I am not in a hurry.”

“Correct.”

“I love you.” Was all I could say.

“I love you too.”

Those words were out of His mouth and the atmosphere went back to such playfulness that laughter broke out. Not from either of us, per se, but from all, from everywhere, from everything, from every molecule and every drop of air. Laughter. Pleasure. Grand delight.

He grabbed my hand and we were gone.

Whisked away.

Landing, I was startled. Feet once again back upon soil. I quickly tried to gather my barrings about me.

Again, away.

Next it was as if I was waking from a dream, but I was awake. The air sparkled. It sang if I listened carefully. I could hear it and not. You know that place in life when you think you hear something so you lean into it to see if you had and what it was? Well, this was like that? There was a song upon the air. Not coming from a distance as if it would only get closer I could hear it better. No. It was if I only settled deeper, quieter, more still. Then I would be able to hear its “all” more. There was no better word to describe it.

I was leaning against a rock. I stretched my legs out in front of me. By my toes was the sweetest of streams. The air sparkled crisp, clean, lovely. Colorful. That was what was different. It was all taking me a while. The hues. The colors. They were different. They were more. They were alive. They were with the air filling everything with that song, that music. Everything was alive beyond alive. Everything was color beyond color. Everything danced. Everything was joy. Everything was life. And still I leaned against the rock. I leaned my head back upon it as I kept my eyes open. I felt it smile. The rock.

I got up. Began to walk. Looked into the stream. Smiled. Trying to take in all that I was seeing within stream, air; all about me was fragrance. All about me was lovely. I walked down a ways. A gate without a fence was in the middle of a meadow. I went up and touched it. Smiled. I kept journeying forward. In the meadow was a tree. I could have stared at that tree for ages. It was enough. There were those around it. We smiled at one another. No words passed through our lips. They didn't need to come. Utterance felt as if it would be less than. We simply knew one another deeply.

Playfulness erupted. Ribbons, hands, dance. That song got richer and richer, higher and higher, more and more. Around and around the tree we played, danced,

Then all was laughter. Then all was quiet. In what seemed was simply the flash of a second. I was alone with the tree. It was ok. I leaned up against it. Placing my hand upon its trunk. There was no breath to be caught. Just joy to be had.

A tall being of light appeared in front of me. I had known Him before. He did not feel new. We were to walk together. What felt like only a few steps but could have been one hundred miles became our journey. No words ever exchanged. Just the walk.

I was back to the rock. Back to the stream.

I took a nap. I took a nap as the stream gurgled, as the air sang, as beauty lived.

All I can say was I woke up as something licked me. I woke up to something licking me. And all that that entailed. I knew I had been dreaming. But then I was awake. Rock, stream, and beauty all still there. But what had licked me was gone. Had I been in the dream? It felt real.

I leaned back up against the rock; to say I loved it, to say that it felt familiar, to say all I could say about it would be to try and say too much. But I did. I loved it. It felt warm as if it had absorbed a million rays of sunshine.

I closed my eyes. I opened them. I closed them one more time. I knew something was different. Something was changing. Stream, rock and sound was moving. Or was it me? I closed my eyes one more time. Living room, toys, sounds of a different nature. I smiled.

“It isn't over.”

“Hhhhmmm? I said as if I was drowsy. ” More beyond relaxed then tired. Everything in me felt at ease.

I stared at Him. I smiled. I curled up upon sofa, with blanket tilting my head towards the pillow, He interrupted, “It isn't over yet. There is something else I want you to experience. Come with me.”

“You're so playful this morning.” I said.

“My joy is complete.” He raised His hand for me to take. As I took it, I felt it and then raised my glance to His, “Thank you,” I whispered. So much more left unsaid. “You're welcome.” Such a simple response to such profound realities.

“I love you.” It came from the depths of me. It was the truest, it was the only thing I could say. “I know.” He smiled.

Then it wasn't sofa I was curled up upon, leaning against. Still Him. Different form. I laughed. “Show off.” But I leaned further in, pushed up against, felt the firmness of His side; lifted and fell as He breathed in and out. I pushed up against again as I shifted my position. I wanted to both lean against and see. It was going to take some adjustment.

He just began to talk. He talked and talked and talked for hours. He talked about all sorts of things. I just leaned against Him; looking, listening.. taking it all in. When what felt like days had passed, he paused. “Want to take a walk?” He asked. “With you?” I answered. “Always.” He turned His great head my way, “ not always.” The moment hung. He had made His point. He had made it well. It had hung and landed with the weight He had wanted it to; having made that point, however He bumped His large frame against me and ran forward, beginning a game of catch me if you can. We ran and played for again what seemed like hours.

As time appeared to shift, I felt the ending of our time coming. I shifted. “Don't do that.” He stopped. Turned His head to look at me. “It is amazing to see you talk to me like this.”

“You see me,” he went on. I was touched. He spoke about how I saw Him in all forms, in all places, in all times. How when I see Him upon the dew in the morning, it blessed Him. How I see Him in laughter, enthralled Him. How I see Him in light, color, sound, sunset, sunrise, clouds, blankets, children, people, buildings, nature, earth; it gives Him peace, rest, life. He spoke of how in every moment I don't take for granted His presence, how He taught me to hold it as a gift and let it come and go. He spoke things I knew not about myself. He spoke things I just did and do that I never think matter. And He kept speaking.

He took such a deep breathe that He rose me up, not to my feet, but with significance. I could feel He knew the times were shifting too. I could feel His ache. “That matters to me,” I said.

The Lion lowered His head, “I love these times too. They aren't just for you.”

“One day,” I said.

“One day.” He replied back with a gaze that undid me. His hunger, His desire, His yearning so very much greater than my own.

We took our time with each other, each exchanging our affections, each talking non-consequential things.

I had been awake in a dream...

“I'm afraid,” I whispered.

“You need not be.” Came the reply.

“I know not where you are going.”

“But I go and come back.”

“Yes, but you go.” The words tumbled out of my mouth as my chin pressed down against my chest, and once again I choked out within whispered words, “You go and I know not where. You go and I know not when you return.” I could feel His gaze upon me. The truth and untruth of words filling my heart with conflict He knew didn't need to be so full. Tears made pathways down my flesh falling to the ground as a river.

“Let me take you somewhere.”

Curiosity pulled me from sorrow. My head lifted. I can't say that I lifted my own head in that moment. For while the movement started within me reaching its objective of raised countenance, it was not I who did the lifting. While no finger moved chin upwards, presence was certainly stronger filling my weakened heart with affections so grand I could not resist. So head lifted, heart intrigued, entire being moved forward.

The landscape was all of a sudden without air. I felt I was choking. Grayish brown hues touched everything. My eyes stung from the death that was palpable to every sensation. Struck utterly dumb. My mind raced all over the place I knew Him. Why here? Just enough light to see mist, fog, ruins. Not enough light to know if it was dawn or dusk. Feeling as if it was neither. I stood upon ground so utterly dusty that the silt of it filled my mouth with a horrid dryness.

Was this a dream? I had been awake in a dream before, this didn't feel like that. Role of observer was to become mine however.

Was that a hum? What was that sound? So far away. Even as I pressed leaning forward, squinting eyes could not make out some potential movement still so off in the distance. Was it a mirage? Was the dusty dank atmosphere sinking into me, adjusting all that is that essence of me into a darkened confusion full of death.

A deeper fog began to roll in, I found curiosity once again. Fear wasn't taking its normal place. I was intrigued. The distant sound was getting louder. And I heard within my core, “Where is the one that my heart loves?” I smiled. I would find trust. I would remember if only so slightly that I had been asked to come here, regardless of what ever would occur, I had come upon His invitation. That was trustworthy enough for me. In touching that moment, that realization; I touched a peace that my understanding could not comprehend.

Distant hum, fog, silt; all still begot the atmosphere. I found a change. Something altered in my depth ever so slightly, once again there was movement. However the air stung, however eyes burnt, however pressed into blindness my entire being was, I had been brought here on the wings of  love's invitation. There would be purpose. Could I withstand the elements long enough to touch the hem of understanding?

Hum joined breeze shooing fog slightly away from where I stood. I was startled. Before I could hold it back a sharp horrified cry escaped from my lungs, entering my mouth, sounding off to my ears. Horrors upon horrors filled the landscape before me. Fog continued to lift. Now in the distance I beheld Him walking. I could picture myself pounding against His chest while letting off every expletive I knew. Fury and pain welled up into and through me, “This! This is where you wanted to bring me!” I screamed. “What the...” and I let the silence fall. “I trusted you. I followed you.” Crumbling under the weights baring down upon my mind, the sights that filled my eyes, the stench that filled my nostrils; I felt broken. And Him. Walking. Did the horizon ever get closer? Were there weird special effects in play that kept Him miles away yet seemingly within arms length?

Without moving I was moved. There was a mound to the right. I wasn't upon it however before I could register that reality I was standing upon its dirt. I was standing. He was kneeling. There was something in between us. The humming began again. It wasn't Him. It was Him. Not coming forth from His mouth. The sound was reverberating from His essence. As if He was a wind chime of sorts allowing fresh and new winds to create a song of vibrations in the air. A song of resurrection. A melody of life.

He bent further down. Picking up something He brought it to His mouth. Breathed. Held, what I could not see, within His hands. Brought it back up to His mouth. Planting His lips upon its white form, a kiss was imparted. Moment after moment slipped by as I watched the repetition of expressed action. Something would be picked up, brought to His mouth twice; once for breathe and once for a kiss. Then whatever He had within His grip would be laid back down upon the soil near His knees.

I knew He knew I was there but not a word was being spoken nor was my presence acknowledged. Wrapped up in the activity before Him, His focus was intense. I just watched. It was with such immense intention that each action was being done, that I was pulled into a place of observation which commanded silence, stillness. I was just to watch. Observe.

Neither fear nor confusion were present. Anger had dissipated. Again, curiosity and intrigue filled my soul.

Then He bowed before all that He had placed upon the earth and began to weep. Words and tears fell upon dirt. Another came to join us.....

Not looking at me, not speaking to me; He turned and spoke to that other. I heard ancient words. The earth began to rumble. The fog lifted. Skeletons began to arise. Muscle placed upon them. Life added back to them. Fog lifted. Silt felt to earth. Air cleansed. Wind, no.. it was breath had come and washed death away.

Now I saw. Now I knew. Now I was the one kneeling.

“Not all valleys are cemeteries. Not all battlefields remain full of blood.” He kissed the foot of one who had been a skeleton. He washed the silt off of her toes by His tears. I had been the observer. Or so I thought. I had also been the pieces that He had taken and bit by bit had washed them, kissed them, breathed life back into them. I had been observer of my own other participation. I had been both.

“You see,” He paused. Such a serious stance He took that it shook me at first. “I do make all things new. I might go. When I go you can trust it is always for your benefit. While I might seem to be standing at a horizon that never draws near, know this... I am never further away then this,” at that He leaned in, placing a kiss upon my person.

“The truths about yourself which you won't let yourself acknowledge, that lack of understanding is why you perish.” His gaze softer now as was His stance. I found myself lost, gazing deeply towards Him. “You look through me to a different age.”

“I'm sorry.” His observation  was truth, my gaze had lost its set focus upon Him and gotten lost into that neverworld that just won't leave me alone at times. "The residue of the silt," I guessed.

"Yes."

Now I did feel His finger beneath my chin, lifting.

Perfect silence fell between us both. He wasn't going anywhere. It would be step by step. It would be a journey. There was time. There was not pressure. There was presence. There was grand affection.

The deliberate actions I witnessed were what was unfolding. I had observed past, present and future all in one moment. I had been awake in a dream.

Time to live....

"Hi."
"Hi."
"There is much on your heart. So early in the morning. Is this really how you want to start the day?"
I just smiled. Sat there. Looked. Tears started streaming down my face.
"I have nothing to say."
I knew He could say that He disagreed. He had before. I knew He wouldn't this morning.
"You are worried over many things. Your heart is troubled. Take a walk with me. Yes?"
"You're my therapist now?"
"Well, I am called The Counselor."
We both smiled.
Sometimes just looking at Him, sometimes just being still in His presence is enough. No words need pass between us. Presence becomes more than enough.  I closed my eyes. Took in a deep breathe. I opened my eyes, tilting my head towards the right I just stared.  Again tears fell. Without speaking a word, I knew He knew all.  Everything. So I just kept looking. Keeping eyes open, closing them ever so briefly, keeping them closed. Letting myself be. Letting myself ache. Letting myself cry.

No longer was I watching Him across the room. No longer He in the chair, I on the sofa.  Now my head was upon His shoulder, my body held... held up, for my feet were giving way.
"Will it always hurt this bad?"
"Yes, no, sometimes."
Startled, I moved my body away, (Only slightly, just enough to look up at His face.) "You want to pick one?" But I had been so startled that He had caused me to laugh a little too.  Tear stained checks pulled up in a grin. Only He can do this to me.
"Sometimes it will be worse."
"You make a crappy counselor, you know."
It was His turn to smile.
"Rest." And He put His very large hand on the back of my head, holding me into His chest. "Breathe." "Just Be."
All seemed to fade away.  In that moment, all seemed to be quiet. I'm not talking my home. I'm not saying the early morning hours in my room. I'm saying all seemed to fall into a quieted place.
I whispered, "I love you."
I felt movement in His body, "I know." He looked down towards me. I could feel His chin move across the top of my head. I could feel Him making a decision though I knew not what. Taking my hand, He spoke; "Come with me."

Then we were walking upon a different shore line, my feet sinking into the ground that is neither sand nor water.  Upon the waters edges we were walking.  Solid ground under my feet, as the waters rolled in from the tides creating a glistening walkway mirroring back our shadows upon the wet, hard sand.

Again words were so few.  Spirit was solid.  Feelings were being transmitted as if through the air. Words felt as if they didn't have to pass between us. The movement of feeling, spirit, atmosphere... Him, collided and I stopped walking.
He was gone.  I blinked. He was gone. Stunned I scanned the horizon. No, He was gone. I didn't quite know what to do.  I stood there, lost.  Frozen. Stunned. Weren't we just side by side. Where did He go?  What was I now to do?  In the absence I gently closed my eyes. In the moment I placed my feet underneath me grounding myself further into the sand beneath my feet.  In the moment I stilled myself.

"Look what you can do."
"You suck as a counselor you know."
Right side of His face turned up in a smile as eyes gleamed my way.
"What happened to never leaving."
"I didn't leave you."
"Uhm, says you."
His voice grounded in depths of kindness I had never heard prior to this moment and I had heard Him a lot.  "I never leave you."

He caused my mind to race back to the days when attending a school in Wenham, MA,  having just met Him only months before, He had pulled such a "trick."  He caused me to remember what I did in those moments. He caused me to compare those moments to this one.
"Is this that growing up thing you've been talking about."
"Yes.... and no."
"Again with the yes, no, possibly. An answer would be helpful."
"Not always."

What I had done in those days, so many years ago, was upon His presence lifting even the slightest bit I had run back to my dorm room, sobbing had thrown myself upon the floor imploring Him to come back. Afraid I had done something wrong as for His presence to lift.  It had been the first time Presence had ever done that to me.  I had known Him for Months and never, not for one moment, I hadn't held His hand, walked by His side, seen His face... And then I had been walking on this path towards the cafeteria, and He was gone.  Shock saturated my body. I turn. Ran.  Swung the door to my dorm wide open, slammed it closed and face met floor as sobs racked my body. What had I done?  The movement hadn't even been fully made.  The tears hadn't touched the carpet, Presence saturated my very being.  No words had been spoken at that time. In my infantile state, all I knew was that He was back.

"I'm no longer an infant."
"You are no longer an infant."
"I was still startled."
"You were."
"My song is always with you. My essence upon you. My breathe yours."
I closed my eyes. Trying within His presence to settle my own soul.
"Growth is hard," I said as I kept my eyes closed.  I realized too much sensory overload. I realized my eyes needed to be shut. I realized, once again, no words really needed to be spoken."
"I miss you, that's all... I just miss you, when you do that."
I knew there was so much He could say. Again, I could feel the movements within His being. I could feel Him thinking. I knew to open my eyes. I knew to look at Him.  As I made contact, as I saw His face... tears again started streaming down my face. "I miss you."
"I ache for you."
"I want this to be over."
He just listened.  "Ah," I thought.  "There's the therapist in you."
Without words having been spoken, He burst out in a laughter that shock the air and made it smile. I closed my eyes to take in its sound. Luxurious. Unmatched. Immense. Beautiful. Strengthening. Firm.
Again I closed my eyes. Drank in the air. Took in as deep a breathe as I could. And smiled.

"You are worried about many things. Your heart grieves. Let it grieve."
"Easier said then done." And I lowered my chin, I lowered my gaze, my right big toe played with the sand. I was fighting it. I was fighting the sobs.  My body racked with pain. My heart bent over in sorrow. Standing underneath His presence. Still I wouldn't let go.
"What?"
"You need to tell me."
"I actually don't." Was my reply.
"True."
"You know all things anyway, what does it matter." My voice was giving me up. My body was giving in. It was His compassion that was winning the moment. His kindness. His tenderness.
"It matters." He spoke ever so softly yet with something akin to a voice that caused an interior movement within me as if He had roared. Gentle mind you. Significant. Firm. Beyond gentle. The ripple affects were coursing through my being, having their way, making adjustments within my soul.
I took a deep breath.
"You love me." I said.
"I do."
"Then, please sit with me."

Those words were out of my mouth. No longer were we standing on the ocean's edge.  I can not tell you where we then went.  It isn't that I wouldn't. I would. I just don't know.  It was grand though. And we sat side by side.
"Tell me."
Looking down at the ground I began to speak. It felt like a thousand years passed. I was still speaking.  About this. About that. Telling Him about every step that I could in the journey. Everything I remembered from the past.  Telling Him every hope I had for the future. Every confusion I had within the present.  I talked and talked and talked and talked and talked and talked and talked and talked and talked and didn't stop talking... He never moved. He never said a word. He listened.
I never moved.  Gaze down at the ground. Body posture slightly bent over. Hands upon face.  (We were sitting in these crazy amazing chairs. On some porch. The air I could try to describe to you but I don't think I have the words.)
I wasn't done. But I took a breathe.  I could feel within Him that He knew there was more. Permission filled the air. And now so did more sobs. As I took back up the conversation.  Now sobbing through the words; on one hand, not even knowing if He could understand my lack of clear articulation and on the other knowing, A) It didn't matter and B) He knew all things.  Sobbing. Talking. Staring down at my feet. Words spilled over them as did tears.  Time both stood still and sped forward.  And still we sat.

Then, in a moment when I had once again paused; He spoke, "Do you still think I suck as a Counselor?"
Birds sang. The air danced. I looked up for the first time. Made eye contact. Smiled. And awoke.....

In that in between place, of neither here nor there... I spoke the last few words. "I love you, my Lord, always and forever. No matter how firm or fragile. I love you."  His reply came through as my eyes opened to a different space; my space, my room, my sofa.. my birds singing outside the window. My dawn breaking through the evening's share of time.  "I know. To you, my love and affection always."

Then as if on cue, I heard the rumblings of my day begin.  Two little voices filled the air, two little feet were heading to the bathroom, as one called after the other.  It would be time for getting them ready for school. It would be time to start the day. It would be time to live.

An evening with a guest I had invited and upon arrival realized that.... I then didn't want said guest to actually, really show up......

I haven't shared moments like these as I once did.  But upon this evening I have learned grace, kindness, gentleness and patience in ways I knew not before this evening....  This conversation bares down upon my being. I know it will bare much in the times to come....  Sit with Him yourself and listen to that which He will say. Be careful when and where you invite Him, for when He shows up...

 "Speak, oh Lover. We are listening!"

"I've never felt so quieted before." I said
"And that's a bad thing?" Came the question back.
"No. Just not used to it so much." I replied.


"I used to feel more confident in what I had to say."
Silence.
There was no response.
Not knowing if I should share more or if the silence was necessary; I, too, paused.
I have begun to slightly trust this more.  So while anxiety did push upon my heart and thoughts raced within my mind; I leaned into intentionally quieting my soul.
"And now." Spoken with a slight smile, a noticeable twinkle in the eye.
"And now.... " I paused, for I knew not really how to finish that answer.
"Now I feel quiet. Now I wish you would speak more. Now I touch the hem of silence and quiet and feel their force. Now I look to trust more than to speak. Now I weep at the pausing and it's power.  Now I tremble at the stillness and the knowledge that comes from it's depths.  Now I look to you. Now I know not what to say."


"I would disagree." Was the response.
To which it was my turn to pause. Allowing silence to fill the space between us, cascading over the both us of, drawing us deeper into each other.


"My heart misses what I feel it once knew." Not referring to education or instruction but to the most interior and intrinsic ideas that our hearts knew before we programmed them not to hear, see or know.
"So go back a few steps."
"It feels like more than just a few steps."


Pauses. Stillness. Quiet.

"You're waiting for me to say more this time," I said breaking the silence.
"I am."

"But I don't know what to say."
To which the silence took on a slightly different feel as distance was added.
"Wait." Everything in me shouted. Terrified that the distance would only increase.

"I'm afraid."
Immediately the atmosphere filled back.
"That which I know causes me sorrow. The places I lack understanding bare down upon my heart."
"They only bare down upon your heart because in truth, you lack not the understanding you think, you just refuse to embrace that which you most truly know. You play dumb. You play safe. You see and while you ask to see, you negate that which you see. You hear and then deafen both ear and heart. You play safe."


I began to say, "but I don't understand, or the excuse of 'I don't mean to'" except I  could only feel so deep within the untruth of that statement.
The night was young. The discussion poised to be long.


Silence again filled the time and space.
Truth be told I was weighing out my options.  Truth be told He is far more patient than I ever imagined. Far more patient that I maybe ever will be; certainly far more patient than I am now. Nurturing stillness encompassed by it's power filled the air. Surrounded by tenderness as if it was the most marvelously soft blanket filled with warmth, containing security laid deeply, heavily upon my soul. I was transfixed.


"What have I told you?"  He broke the silence. Gently soothing my very being.
Before I could respond, the answer was granted into my depths.
"You both ask the question and supply it's answer." I said back with a smile.
"I want you to know the pathways we walk." Was what was spoken back without hesitation.
"Now you are in my head." As I could feel the images that were being touched. The ideas that were being rescued.
"I am in far more than your head."
"So you know."
"Yes."
"But..."
"But, this is us.... I want you to speak."
"I'm afraid..." And I hesitated. I faltered.
I came to understand in that second that those words would only ever cause Him to move closer, the very nature within the essence of the being of Spirit; never forsakes, never leaves alone. I bristled. "What?" I said. "I can tell you I'm afraid, I can tell you I don't understand, but I can't tell you I don't know."  I could felt agitation flowing through me, coursing through my being, causing tears to sting my eyes.

"You may not."
Now we were in full eye to eye focus lock down.
Girding my heart, I could feel the shift.  While the presence didn't budge. Not one bit.  "I'll lose this 'show down.'"
"No, I will guarantee you don't."
"My language and your language in this are saying two very different things."
To which His laughter filled the essence of all that I am. "That, your response, is why... you may not say 'you don't know.' You may not want to say. But you do know. It is to that end I push."

"You want more of me than I am willing to give."
"That is not true.  You are far more willing to give to me more than you, yourself understand. You actually hold back very little. I am not afraid of your fear. I am not the one whose pace is not being met. I am Author. I am who begins and brings to completion.  You need not be afraid. Breathe."


I could feel myself shrinking back as if into a corner, while not at all cornered; I knew not how to respond.  The 'showdown,' of sorts was getting personal.  My mind wandered to Jacob. Would a physical wrestling be better than this.


"No." Before I could speak the answer was out there.
Again my  mind raced in a million directions. Searching for a response that would feel true, trying to grasp for an expression that didn't feel like it would come easily at all.
Then before I could blink an eye or think another thought; warmth was mine.  A cascading warm solid tangible honey like substance was flowing, filling me.. saturating the room.  The essence, the sensation.. it all was accompanied by an image.  Again I bristled. But as if I was a colicky child, all that happened was I was brought closer into an embrace, not pushed away. My back stiffened. His intention remained firm. He began to hum. I relaxed. I breathed.


Thoughts, pictures of days and years gone by flooded. Warmth, vibration, gentleness, kindness; it all swirled into the air with color and temperature and atmosphere changing components leaving me changed; softened.


Still quiet. Words still wouldn't come. Glancing; no, more like still glaring over the top of missing rims to glasses I don't wear, I looked towards the direction in which He sat. A caution upon my heart. I wanted this moment to be what it was even while I wanted to also diminish it, put distance between myself and it, play nonchalant, aloof.

There, was sitting, the One who loves my soul so completely, so well. Did I want to engage in a show down I couldn't win, or really actually didn't want to win? Or did I want Him to make the first move?  It wasn't going to happen this time.  While I know He runs, He leaves, He rescues... something was different. My mind raced to all the places in my life where this very occurrence was true.  I had just earlier railed at the heavens, imploring them to move, daring them to cause something to act that would change where I was, what was happening, how I felt.


It began to dawn on me that this was the response to those prayers.

That this evening and what was transpiring was in direct correlation to those prayers.

 I had invited this guest.

 I had asked for this evening.

Yet upon arrival I did not want it to carry the message it did.  I wanted to be rescued. It was the determination of all that was transpiring that I would conclude that rescuing was not what I needed.

Stand off sadly continued.  I would like to say that I melted again completely at that part. But I didn't.  As I refused, I felt more of His joy which began to irritate me more than fill me with similar emotion. 

"Isn't this stubbornness." I asked.
"No."
"Uncertainty?"
"Definitely not."
"Well?"
"Well."
I heard His heart.
"I'm not an infant."
"You're not an infant."
"You want me to grow up."
"I want you to grow up."
"It isn't that you wouldn't rescue me, run to me, comfort me, stand with me.  It isn't that you ever leave me alone."
"True. So what is it?"
"You want me to stand."
"I want you to stand. I want you to feel what that feels like. I want you to stand. I want you not to succumb. That is not you won't be weak. You will be weak. In that weakness you will feel my strength. You will falter but you will not fall. You will err but you are not to fear."

And my heart and mind raced in a very different fashion.  I thought upon words of wisdom that I know to be written in Christian scriptures. "Having done all... stand."

"Yes. No longer being an infant means you may not look for others to do for you that which you can do for yourself. Take the step. Breathe Stand."
"But..." I wanted to say a million things. But what if I can't? What if I falter? What if I fail? What if I'm not strong enough? What if I'm not smart enough? What if??????  A million "what ifs" filled my head.

Quiet. But the silence filled with attentive glances my way.  Watching me. Looking at me. Looking into me and offering a glance into what was being seen.

I swallowed hard.
"You're not going to tell me."
"No."
"You could."
"Yes."
"But you won't."
"Correct."

I didn't have to ask why.
Sitting there, looking at Him looking at me, receiving His glance and presence... I could feel myself all of a sudden walking in the palm of a very large and vast palm.
"This is where I am."
"This is where you are."
"Always?"
"Always."
"Promise?"
"Promise."

I closed my eyes for a minute. And when I opened them my guest had seen Himself away.  I sat there, now looking at the empty chair. The chair that had only seconds earlier been full with presence, light, sound, eternal beauty. Now back to being just a chair. And as that thought landed in my heart; a bright twinkling of sorts overrode it. Never and always back to being just a chair. I am that which I am; at times so much less... living less than that which I am and at times being that which I am and touching more.

"Remove the 'just.' Let it be. Be yourself as well."  Then the evening fell fully silent.  Then my heart realized I could go to sleep. Then my heart smiled, my body breathed and quiet once again reigned firm.

I haven't Judged you ... Stop Judging yourself

The people who are walking in darkness Have seen a great light, Dwellers in a land of death-shade, Light hath shone upon them. Isaiah 9:2

I'll just be honest.  In this season there has been much that has changed about my devotional habits.  One is that I haven't listened to the same music I used to in what seems like forever.  Upon the landscape of my life other notes, new chords, different lyrics were needed.  Hosier's Take Me to Church became the song that most filled my heart with comfort, with His presence, with words and notes that resonated.  I met God there time after time.  As I found this beautiful Lakota Healing Prayer from YouTube my being would find rest.

Then came this day....

I hadn't listened to what those within certain spheres would call "worship music" in months.

I have lived in Blacksburg, VA for almost two years.  I had never walked a foot on the Huckleberry Trail.  This one morning I had gotten up very early.  Having time before appointments, I decided it was time to do some exploring.

As I stepped upon the path, I felt an all too familiar nudge. Upon my heart a request was being laid.  Would I listen to a certain listing that was on my Iphone? Would I listen to the style of worship music that once filled my life?

I knew the invitation was just that.  But I know all to well that those invitations aren't made haphazardly. I trust that.  I trusted that there was something that made this important.  So I did.  On the walk/run away from town I listened to words and melodies I had not played for many months.

Then acknowledging that the time had come to make the return trek back to town, I turned around. As it would happen another request was made.  Now it was the Lakota Healing Prayer song.  Then in the consistent nature and character in which I know God to have, there was choice.  My freedom to choose whichever music I wanted.  I knew exactly which listing I wanted to play.

As I emerged off the path, walking down towards benches near these six magnificent trees, I would be stopped in my tracks.

"You have judged yourself broken.  You have been waiting for the time that you could listen to that music again and your heart to respond again.  You have judged yourself wrong. You have judged yourself.  I have not.  I have met you in places you never expected.  I've touched you with lyric and melody you would have never gravitated towards. 

What makes you think I respond more quickly to one worship style over another. What makes you think my presence flows more readily in one form over another.  Hymnal, band, silence, chant, slow or fast; none of that matter to me.  One can be just as dogmatic singing songs (notice, my child I did not say worship) with a full band and lyrics flashed upon screen as they can holding a hymnal.  It isn't methodology. It is heart.

You have judged yourself broken. I have not. 

Be at peace. "

I moved to those benches. I sat among those trees.  I leaned back. I closed my eyes. I received.

I had really only ever known one style. I really had had the belief that it mattered.  Personal preference doesn't matter. It simply is just that. Personal preference. Our likes are not automatically God's new and only movement. Whether one generation wants to hold a hymnal while an organ plays, or another wants to feel the beat of drums louding filling the airwaves, or one wants to sit in a circle of quiet, or one wants to play the flute, or one wants to chant, or one wants to... Do we get the picture?

It isn't about form or style or preference. It is about heart.

I had judged myself broken... He had not.

He really had met me time after time as Take Me to Church played into my ears. He really had touched my heart. He really had heard my ache, my cry, my need.  He really had not judged me. He really wanted me to be able to worship Him, be made whole and celebrate our love affair with each other. He really didn't care to which music I did so...

I had judged myself BUT I had also been so arrogant.  I had my preferences be God's. In those moments my heart not unlike the Grinch's grew.  My heart continues to grow as I touch permission; freedom.  Where the Spirit of the Lord is there is freedom.  I'm learning that truth in whole new ways.

I'll say this as I end. I could feel it. I could feel as I listened to Hozier's music that I was being met. That within those words were the lyrics my heart needed to find space to breathe again. I had been so critical of myself in those moments.  I had in term of Grey's Anatomy thought myself dark and twisty.  I had called good evil.  Last statement... It was so important to God that I not think that and that I not judge myself that He took my on a walk, requested something of me and my heart, and turned into a journey of a lifetime. So like Him.

 

The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it. John 1:5  (Let's be a people who when the Light shines we don't call it darkness.)

Recipe for Healing and Hope

It isn't that I am unaware that Easter has come and gone.
We've held the palm branches
We've sung Hosanna

But I want more.....

This year, as Holy Week approached, I found myself within the moments of a retreat.  The meditation was to follow Jesus to the courtyard of the House of Caiaphas and then onto the House of Pilate.

The stories and  scriptures that fill out this time are known.
Peter's rejection and denial.
Beatings.
Torture.
Verbal assault.

My inner most being was troubled as I attempted to touch what those courtyards would have looked like, sounded like, smelt like, tasted like, felt like. I cringed.  My own emotions so very raw.  These weren't the moments of a last meal, a foot washing, last minute lessons and prayers, agony in a garden, betrayal by kisses.

These were the moments of the crowds who were the ones who were counted among the 5000 who ate of bread and fishes that did not exist before they did. These were the moments of a man standing stripped down, beaten, bleeding; hearing the roars of a crowd choose another, a murderer over himself.  These moments were too much to bare for my soul.

The beauty of it was that He knew that.

The beauty, of what was to emerge as I touched paper and read the reflection questions and began to think about journaling, would impact my life with deep rivers of hope and healing.  Allowing myself to sense the flow of Holy Spirit bringing me to the Lover of my soul, I would begin to hear words that would take me away from those courtyards.  Words that would take me away from the screaming and torture.  Words that would bring me to the garden, words that would bring me to the cool evening breezes of the first days of creation, words that would bring me into the very heart of Him.

These are the words.. This was the experience... Room, other retreatants, paper, pen would all fade away.  Sky, fresh air, beauty and wonder would take their place.... He would take my hand, He would gaze into my eyes, He would speak forth from His heart and He would make all things new..........  Not just for the world. For me................

I am daybreak...
I am joy...

I remember.
Into my mind flashes when the air was brand new and Adam had arisen from the soil.

Take my hand and travel with me

I hear the jeering of the crowds.
But watch me...
Watch my face, seem my demeanor, see my peace --

Touch my joy.

Insults, anger, hatred ---
Blood upon soil.

Cain killing his brother
Humanity killing me

Abel's blood cried aloud for justice, mine will do deeper; mine will saturate the soil of the Earth diving deeply into it's core.

I am brought back to the screams of the courtyard, yet my ears and heart and eyes see the vestiges of the tempter.  I see beyond the flesh of my created pots, of my created ones; I look beyond their flesh into their inner most beings.  Seeing their deepest needs.

Inwardly I smile as my flesh cringes from the forces that surround.

I remember.

Within my thoughts, within my mind's eye I flash back to the coolness of grass beneath my feet, the dew that hung heavy.  The laughter, innocence and beauty of Adam. The destiny of those that will flow forth from Eve.

The woman's body who will one day hold mine.

I look at Adam's hands. I shudder.  Knowing one day such hands will pierce my own.  The day that is beyond these memories.  The day that is before me now.

I behold  Creation;  garden --stars, beauty.

Eternity past before the, "Let it be's," were ever spoken.  Eternity future when the church will be my Bride sitting with me at the feast of the all ages. Consummation of my Father's dream.  The depths of His heart fashioned, forged -- brought forth.

My inner quiet is broken by a child's voice.  "Crucify Him," she says.  A beautiful young girl, with deep brown hair whose curls form out her face, has opened her mouth and begun to echo the words she has heard her own father speak.  Echoing his cries the child screams for my death.

Sorrow shakes into my depths. My eyes close. My soul troubled stills.

My own voice will very soon echo the heart expression of another, of my Father.  I too will echo the heart beat of a Father. The words, "Forgive them my Lord; forgive them my Father.. For they know not what they do," will respond through all time.

Do not be afraid, dear heart... Death, pain, sorrow knows no completed victory.



I am liken unto that little girl in those courtyards.  I have listened to voices contrary to the ways of life. I listen to voices contrary to the ways of life.  Grateful there is a voice which resounds stronger; with a resolute nature more firm then anything I could ever imagine. Those sounds .. that melody is becoming  louder and I am hearing the symphony, the recipe for healing and hope upon the waves of the air.  They surround me and remake me.....

As we head towards the days of Ascension. As we head to the days of empowerment.  Let us be ever more aware that there are ways that are so much higher than our own, that will lift us up and grant us strength.  Be lifted up.


Look up, you gates! Rise up, you eternal doors! Then the majestic king will enter!
Psalm 24:7

"But when these things begin to take place, straighten up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near." - See more at: http://bible.knowing-jesus.com/topics/Lifting-Heads#sthash.mAQ1BEtC.dpuf

"But when these things begin to take place, straighten up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near." - See more at: http://bible.knowing-jesus.com/topics/Lifting-Heads#sthash.mAQ1BEtC.dpuf

Forget what you've been told........And laughter erupted

And laughter erupted...                                   

 The precious nature of the moment has continue to linger way beyond the moments of it's happening.

You know that place between sleep and awake.  No, this isn't the tale of Peter Pan.  That place; that place where before you are fully aware of the world that surrounds us, you are still hovering in the beauty of otherness.

Moments that are neither here nor there, they just are and if let be they will linger and be absorbed deeper and deeper into your personhood.  Transactions where breathe and spirit and joy and peace and kindness dwell and sing and reverberate with beauty and presence and strength.

Those moments aren't just relegated to those brief seconds as we wake from sleep or nap.  And this is a tale of such a happening...  Even upon the remembrances of it my senses heighten and my joy is made full.

In one place I was driving and fully aware of road and all that goes on with the responsibilities of operating a car.  On the other hand, that which I was was lifted from those moments as Presence saturated the car.  What does that mean?  What is that exactly?

It is a very normal moment touching a more normal reality.  Ah, which is which you ask?  Well, I know what it is for me. Not being coy here.  It is just for each of us to journey.  For me the normal  moment is driving a car, being aware of traffic laws and pedestrians.  For me the more normal reality is seeing light, color, beauty in everything and everywhere. Love St. Ignatius, and his understanding and expression of finding God in all things.

There are more things that we can be aware of each and every moment of each and every day and it doesn't bring one into some alternative ethereal reality.  It deepens the earthy reality of life in palpable and tangible ways.

And that's what got me.. hook, line and sinker.

Learning deep love.  Deep joy. Deep acceptance.  How?  By letting go.....  It was such a terrifying journey to get to these moments.  What would happen if I was.. if I let go of false responsibility, if I let go of pride and arrogance in regards to thinking about what I could do?  What would happen to me if I took 2 steps back, 5 steps back, 20 steps back?  What perspective would I glean?  Would there be a different perspective?  I wasn't given those answers. I was given an invitation.  I could feel upon my person, in the way I know I feel things in the Spirit and discernment, that what I was being given was an invitation, not an explanation.  It was the invitation to leave.  It was the invitation to let go.

Now.. it wasn't all inclusive.  Actually the invitation to let go was also the invitation to  make right.  Life and family, joy and song, music and laughter.

Laughter seems to be playing such a huge role in life right now.  But it's most potent lesson is this... DON'T take yourself so seriously.  You aren't as important as your ego wants you to think.  And again laughter erupts.

But I digress. Back to the driving of a car.  One of my favorite songs began to play.  "Chasing Cars,"  And I began to cry.

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life
Let's waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads
I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Forget what we’re told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life
All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see

I understand that lately I use the word, beautiful, or beauty so often in my writing.  I can't but do 
that.  Again today I was reminded to waste time, to find my own, to just lay there, to embrace a garden that is bursting forth into life... to know that in the perfect eyes of the One I love I am seen and I see. And it is good. And it is very good.

What I learned  today though was that I had more permission than I ever understood.  It emerged with laughter and humor and yup, beauty!

Breathe. Daily and moment by moment reminders to pause, to linger, and to breathe fill my being.

(That seems to be the theme of life right now.)

But as I was driving and listening to a song about cars, I began to see the images of what it must have been like to be at the wedding at Cana.  The emergence of the first miracle.  Water into wine.. laughter and celebration and joy.  Upon those images came the sweetest and strongest of impressions and I was made new.  "You... before you get too old, forget what you've been told."  Then remembrances of lines from Song Of Solomon's book passed through my head....

[Please] do not look at me, [she said, for] I am swarthy. [I have worked out] in the sun and it has left its mark upon me. My stepbrothers were angry with me, and they made me keeper of the vineyards; but my own vineyard [my complexion] I have not kept.   Song of Solomon 1:6Amplified Bible (AMP)

There are those that interpret brothers as churches and ministries and the supposed "works," of and for God.  This has been my journey.  Emerging from not keeping my own complexion, my own "vineyard," as it were.. my own life.  Being told that that was the way, that was the path.. expend time and energy and pour out one's life over and over again regardless of life and family and reality. 

I will tell you a story here...  A child of mine struggled at one point watching me as I would go and minister to this person and that person; this child was losing hope and wondered why were these others more important.  This child was right.  I was wrong.

"Forget what you've been told, before you are too old. Show me a garden that is bursting into life."

That same child of mine and I had a most magnificent conversation out in our driveway the other day as we took turns shoveling snow from the pavement.  I held this child and spoke things into their being, returned to this child and apologized for every time that there were tangible reasons for said child not to know in their gut that they were the most important thing that I would ever do..

We don't give our pastors that message enough.  We don't tell our ministers go love on your spouse and your kids and teach us to do the same and we will all be more healthy.  We lay upon heavy yokes full of expectations and don't take accountability for our own spiritual growth.  We want to nurse at the breast of these and not grow up, families and individuals pay the price.  

So back to the car, back to the song, back to the wedding, back to the heart beat that was filling all things around me.... Forget what you have been told. Forget what you have been told before you are too old.  A reality being shown to me that I am seeing a garden bursting forth into life as I let go....  And immense laughter ensued.  Yes, we will linger here. Yes we will waste time and in wasting time we are not wasting time; we are being.  We are being in love. In the most perfect eyes of heaven we can get lost and it can become all we see.  Then not living an ethereal life with no practical, hands on application.. our lives become the wine that was once only water.  We love in ways that are meaningful, we erupt in ways that laughter fills the air and the depths of our souls and... AND, we live.... WE LIVE... 

In letting go and stepping away from plain water, I have touched wine and joy and laughter and life... and it is better than the first...  

Every man serves the good wine first, and when the people have drunk freely, then he serves the poorer wine; but you have kept the good wine until now.” John 2

This.. this that I am living now.. this invitation in the Spirit to linger, to rest, to forget things we've been told and realize that there is so much that just isn't true within the striving after ministry... to embrace a stillness and a ceasing of striving and in so doing the reality of knowing God more fully will come to life and our gardens will be absolutely spectacular.  (Not just beautiful.)

The strength of the feminine

I laid there as the early morning hours ticked away.

What was this feeling?
What were these movements that were making their way through me, wave after wave?

They had a tinge of vulnerability towards them but not fragility.
They had a whisper of a blush but the strength of iron.
They carried upon them a capturing of my breathe but the exhale of intoxication.

What was happening to me?

I just laid there.

And then within my mind's eye a flashing of beautiful images started to make their way across my interior, and the movements of sensation, beauty, imagery filled out my being and laid me wasted.  What was happening to me?

I began to pray.  Tears filled the corners of my eyes, but not as they had ever before.  Again, Inside of me I felt strong.  I have liked the word resolute so much in these past few days. It has felt like the perfect definition of what lingers in the air, of what fills out the atmosphere.  Without even having a tad of comprehension let alone complete understanding; I find myself wanting to use words like beauty, linger, kindness, generosity of spirit, warmth, pause, contemplate, resolute, strong, firm, decisive, rest, compassion, more and more and more.  They are the notes, the melodies, the steps that seem to be dancing all about me these days.

What is happening to me?

And as has been my regular custom in this season, I pause to catch my breathe.

What is happening to me?

The images I spoke of earlier.. they are of color, they are of light, they are of beauty, they are of sweetness, they are of strength, they are full of music and wonder and awe and they lay me to waste in the best of ways.

As I lay there, hoping earnestly to just fall off back to sleep, something lay a hold of my heart.  Not something, at all... Someone.  All that I have recognized of the Lord was present.  I breathed.  Spirit. Life. Joy. Laughter. Fun.  Oh my... There was a fun, nurturing and kind presence and it was becoming my undoing once again. 

"Write,"

....................... but I knew that which He was pressing in and what flowed forth from my soul, as a blush crossed my face,  I wasn't even sure I would be able to find the words to talk to my therapist about all this and yet I could feel upon Him, the hunger for me to write these experiences. Intake of air, stuck in throat... exhale.  Reminder to self, breathe, Mims... breathe.

I could!  I could feel myself blushing and I hadn't even started to write. I could feel myself smiling that shy, fun, girlish smile that one shares with girlfriends when talking about the intimate places of the heart.  And I could feel Him, lingering as was His desire for me to write.

I continued to lay there hoping sleep would come to me.  Not wanting to get up and reach for laptop and begin basically writing the depths of my soul out in places that are so new for me, too new for me; so strong and  firm and yet so gentle and vulnerable. These aren't concepts nor are they ideals. This is happening. Something has been wonderfully, beautifully, fearfully unleashed within and  I began this morning to awaken to more of  the reality that in some part, what was happening to me, was that I was awakening to all that is feminine in me.

You would think as a woman of 43 years, a wife of 22 years and a mom of 20 years, that this realization wouldn't be earth shattering.  But as I wrote to my therapist just a day or so ago, "It isn't all negative, it hasn't all been bad and matter of fact so little of it feels as a result of the push or pressure of things... its the good. It's the feeling. It's the grief, but not just grief ... its emotion.  Could it really be that 43 years of stifled feeling is taking advantage of the movements and occurrences of the day and laying hold of this as an opportunity?  So much shift happens at times in the course of these days ...... that while I can pause and at moments be blown away (Not pompously. I so hope not pompously) by who is emerging as me, as if I was or had been covered by mud and something has taken a hose and washed me down and that which was meant to be the me I was meant to be is standing there, seeing as if for the first time.. hearing things that I have never heard but definitely feeling sensations I have never touched.  Shutting it all down feels cruel but living it out and letting it breathe, feels like almost too vulnerable maybe even for words in a journal"  (and now they are in a blog.  Laugh with me please... oh my.. these days, this journey... so unexpected, so intoxicating.. so amazing.. thoroughly amazing to me.)

It  has been an undoing AND a knitting together and each day feels like the journey of 24 hours brings something forward that should take years to find.  But is that the reality of the years that have already been walked out finally emerging?  Have the terrains already been crossed?  Is this the birthing of the seasons past into the present, into the future?  Is this the suddenly after all the waiting?

It's unnerving.
It's raw.
It's undoing.

It's incredible.
It will be my undoing but it is also my liberation.

And then as I laid still in bed, trying to ignore the reality in the Spirit that was pressing upon me; I could feel even deeper into His heart beat.  Creator was wanting His daughters AND sons to understand more of the feminine nature and character of the heart beat that is exploding. 

The words of Misty Edwards' new song, Killing me with mercy, started to play upon my heart.

What are You doing Lord, kneeling in front of me?
I feel indignant Lord, that You’d ever wash my feet
I’ll never let You see the dark and dirty
It’s just too much for me
I know who You are, and I know where I have been
It offends me Lord, that Your knees are bent
I’d rather You be strong and make me pay
But this is too much for me

You’re killing me with mercy, I can’t breath
You’re wrecking me with Your kindness, I can’t receive
What am I supposed to do with a God so humble?
It’s breaking me
It’s crushing me

I've known Him for more years of my life then I haven't and yet in these days and hours, I feel like I am becoming acquainted with Him in ways that I would have never imagined possible.  They are quieter and fuller, they are delicate and compassionate and beautiful and resolute and powerful in their gentle nature.  I feel Him fuller; He is wider and larger and bigger and more complete.  And I am laid wasted before the magnificence that is being brought forward.  Laid wasted. Undone and yet put back together in ways that cause me to come undone even more in awe and wonder over the immensity of beauty that is all that is the I AM.

There was something reverberating in the air, the pulse of which filled out His heart beat.  I knew what to write but didn't want to.  Again, seriously, friends.. I was laying in the dark in my own bedroom, BLUSHING,  I don't blush. And earnestly couldn't fathom finding the words to express these things in a counseling office and yet knew I would be writing them upon my blog.  I wanted to look up and say, REALLY?!?!?!

Then again, I caught the song of His heart beat, His breathe, His lingering.. His courage and I knew what the words were.. How could I not speak them?  I love Him more and more with each passing hour... Him, not as I have made Him or others, not as church or ministry or men or women have made Him.. But that which comes forth as an essence of the magnificence of who He is.. and I have to admit I'm struggling over pronouns these days.  Seriously... And I know how that will make some of you feel.  But I'm sorry. And yet not. So I write He because Father and Son are masculine and while I won't get into any deep theological discussion; how can "she," not be part of the triune nature of God, when we are all made in that image.  Again.. this, this posting not the place.. not the time... 

There's an aspect to the feminine nature of God that is calling forward to be recognized.  This is not new. While personally I am discovering newness to the beauty and phenomenal nature of the fathomless depths  that encompasses this reality, it is not one that is new nor is it one that has been unexplored historically.  But in my western, charismatic, non-denominational.. highly hierarchical and patriarchal systematic  upbringing within church culture these areas have been left much unexplored; I am finding, to my detriment.

That is what brought me to my laptop tonight.  That is what pulled me from the warmth of my bed.  This is what stirs me these days and leaves me asking more than naught, What is happening to me?  It is an awakening.  It is an awakening to the beauty and power and majestic nature of the feminine.  Not the" I am woman hear me roar," motif but the I am woman and I am beauty and I am made in the image of the Lord and there is a power and nurturing force towards all that is feminine that resides within both masculine and feminine that must continue to be revealed and must continue to be searched out.

It will be to our detriment if it isn't.

There is a nurturing and lingering and soft and resolute aspect to Holy Spirit that is hovering over the chaos of our lives and our world and our planet and Creation that will bring a most fantastic and beautiful order but in a way that meekness inherits and peacemakers are children and   the pure in heart see....  The ceasing of striving and the holding towards stillness will open up pathways to knowing aspects of Him that are fuller and richer than anything I have ever thought.

The components of that which is  feminine is stronger and kinder, more patient, more full of self-control; the quality of   love, joy, and  peace fills out a powerful and nurturing reality.  The  goodness, faithfulness, and gentleness of this can not be overcome.

This is so very new for me...  This journey and these steps... My goodness, I feel so utterly exposed and yet stronger than ever.  The strength is nothing I have touched before.. it is warm and firm and beautiful and complete and more than I could have ever ever even anticipated touching let alone finding it coursing within...

So grateful for this new journey. So grateful for all that is happening.  So grateful and yet so undone and yet so put back together and standing, and smiling and full.

There is an intimacy and a fondness that is beckoning for us to touch in the Spirit and bring it forward.. a name we use so often is the Lover of our souls and yet language can be at times so hard to come by and the reality of it all so hard to touch.  But not really.  Earnestly it is undoing.  I am undone at times more than naught but I would only choose this path over and over and over again. I have never felt more alive.  I have never felt more open to who it is that I am... There is a nurturing and powerful place to enter and the color and the sound and the magnificence of it is full of wonder.  There are many faces and aspects to all that is feminine and they are not all female.  I want to nurture my sons into this reality as much as I do my daughters.  It will look different but the essence is the same.  

I wasn't sure I was going to find words and now my heart is alight and my face full of smile.  This... this is joy.. this is strength and dignity and beauty .. this is resolute and powerful and majestic... This.. this is the strength of the feminine. So vast and so much and so many faces.... so many images and so much to explore.. Just touching the edge and I am becoming fuller and fuller...