Me-Day.

So today is all about me. 

there are not many days in the year, that are all about me.

there are only 5 in fact.   Mum’s birthday, Dad’s birthday, my birthday, the day Dad died and today, the day mum died.

so I thought it was going to be all about her.   It’s her day really - I have just always declared it a "me-day" so as to ward off all other distractions (a excuse to have nothing on the calendar and to not pick up the phone -except ofr Grandma).   But this morning I realized that nope, it’s not about mum, it’s about me… mum’s doing just fine.  she’s better than she ever was.   I on the other hand I am still a work in progress.  So today is about me.  Problem is I don’t have these me-days very often (ever????)

So what I was going to do I’m not so sure I will do anymore.

And what will I do,is still up for grabs.  I hate to admit it but it’s hard to be about me.       

singing us through

So one of my most favorite images I have gleemed from the creativity of CS Lewis is the creation of Narnia in the Magician’s Nephew (I actually we could say it’s one of  my favorite images ever).    Aslan sings Narnia into being.   I love it!   

The more I live, the more I’m convinced that song must have been part of the beginning.    Surely it’s why the angels were created to continue the song.    Surely it’s why Revelation speaks of the song again at the end (or the new beginning as I like to think of it).   The song that we’ll all be singing when that day finally comes and there will be no more tears, no more pain, no more death, no more grieving.   Song at our beginning.   Song at the finish line.   

But tonight I was reminded of the comfort, the assurance, the power of song in the inbetween.  Tonight it was Ben Harper and Patty Griffin who sang the song  that calmed and lead my soul to whisper once more: all shall be well.  Despite the now, all shall be well. Whether they knew what they were singing or not, I find totally irrelevant.  Because I’m not so sure it was really the music and lyric they offered specifically (though it clearly helped) but more the song my heart recognized playing within them.   

If God sang us into being.  And if God has already composed the end titles.  Then surely God will sing us home.   Surely that’s why my friends camped out in fields in the middle of nowhere in Tennessee for a music festival; it’s why my pilgrims walked around with one ear bud in, the other out; it’s why the Boy’s Choir of York Minster and the Sisters of Whitby carry us into that perfect peace with their angelic voices; it’s why I make playlists for every occasion and season of life.   

And somehow we feel better.  Somehow music - the song - helps. Our souls begin to remember again, there’s more going on here than just this moment … and just past this moment, all shall be well.

    Somehow through it all - in the inbetweens, we hear God singing us home.  God singing us through. God singing us new. 

For behold I am making all things new (Rev. 21:5).

Home

I’m back.

I’m home.

I’ve actually been home since the wee hours of Tuesday morning.   And all of my pilgrims were home by midafternoon later that day (that should tell you something about the adventure home).

So I’ve been trying to settle back into home again.  I call it "nesting"

Once again I find myself amazed as to how just 12 days away (a 6 hour time change as well) is long enough to mean that upon my return, nothing is the same but yet everything is the same; as TS Eliot says, I return home to know it as if for the first time.   And somehow in my time away, I’ve forgotten how I was doing things before I left- forgotten my old rhythm to life - everything I did here stopped as soon as I boarded the plane.  I didn’t necessarily stop in any way, shape or fashion but what I was doing and how I was living did.   So this week, I have been discovering the new rhythm for my days - settling back into home and nesting into an old but new life.   

It’s probably worth noting, that given how my days were before I left, this is probably a very good thing.     

So I pray  as I continue to nest back into home, the rhythm of life that I uncover is a little more in sync with the heartbeat of God, a little closer to the life that He offers me, a little nearer to the life He calls me into.  Life lived in His way.

as for home …  I wonder a lot these days, where home really is … but maybe that’s just it, maybe home is just simply where you nest and where you fall into line with underlying ryhthm of this world and live within the beats of her Creator, Redeemer and Restorer.

Life is pain…

Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.  - Westley in the Princess Bride.

I never liked that moment in the Princess Bride.  I liked the following moment when she realizes she just pushed her true love down the hill and then proceeds to roll down after him.   But I never liked the fact that Westley says, life is pain.   I just don’t think I wanted it to be true. 

This morning I was walking Bugs and within minutes of our venture, he came running back to me with a baby bird in his mouth that was still alive.   And at this point there was no winning with my four legged friend.  So I had to walk beside Bugs, listening to the baby bird chirp it’s last notes, knowing I could do nothing.   

It seemed all a little too much like life.   And maybe the Princess Bride is right to a certain extent, perhaps life is pain because this life is not as it was intended to be.   And this life has not yet fully been restored to how it shall be.   

Yesterday I sat on a hospital bed with a friend of mine who had been badly burned.   We talked.   We laughed a little.  We prayed. We even had teary eyes.   But all the while I could see her discomfort and her pain and could do nothing.   At one point though, I looked up and said, "I’ve never been so thankful for pain.  and thankful that you’re in pain.   Because it means you still have nerves.  You are still alive."   

And that’s it.   Pain means we are still alive - whether you want to be or not.  Pain means we are still living, still breathing. Still have nerves to feel and know beauty and pain.  Pain reminds us that something is wrong, something is just not as it was intended to be.

So like I did this morning with Bugs, I walk with my own pain; I walk beside those in pain, sometimes with laughter, often with tears.  Helpless to do little but pray and walk beside them. 

It’s like Sam said to Frodo towards the end of The Return of the King:  Come on, Mr. Frodo. I can’t carry it for you… but I can carry you! [Picks Frodo up and starts to carry him up the mountain].

So we carry each other through the pain.  It’s like the four friends that busted through the roof to carry their friend to Jesus.  They couldn’t heal him but they knew who could.  So they carried him.

Life maybe pain but I still won’t give up that even still it’s beautiful. 

One life
With each other
Sisters
Brothers

One life
But were not the same
We get to carry each other
Carry each other
-U2