The Pound Speaks

ww so David said something pretty profound this evening.    I was saying what a mess I am - what’s new, right? 

and he said something along the lines of:

"yeah, well it’s good that you’re a mess.   Cause it takes being a mess to stay out of ’shallow-ville’ and live in the midst of ‘real-ville’."

I think he’s right.

Maybe being a mess is a constant, necessary state of being - being aware of who we are, and who we aren’t; of what we control and what we don’t, of where we are and where we aren’t; of what is real and what is not.   

So here’s to being a mess.  a beautiful mess, of course.

Anyone want to join me?

the assurance of knowing

yesterday was nuts.   

really nuts.

so nuts that it became comical.

but you know, I was ok.

I was calm.

I was patient.

I was compassionate.

I was flexible.

I was enduring.

I was positive. 

And I loved  well because I was already loved.

And I assured well becauseI was already assured.

By evening, when I stopped for a moment, I realized I was ok.   I was good.   I was still together.   

And then I knew something.   

I knew something by the fruit within me. 

I knew the hand of God.

I knew the hand that had held me steady through the almost comical craziness of the day.   

I knew the hand that still rested on me.

I knew.   I just knew.

and I was so glad to know.   

beside me.

i love walking Bugs.

i love letting him run.

i love letting him sniff about on the retractable leash.

i love it when his tail points out and his paw lifts up when he’s seen a squirrel or chipmunk

but tonight I remembered what I love most of all.

i love it when he walks right beside me.

the comfort.

the assurance.

the rhythm.

it’s the way life was intended to be, i think.

busyness

I can’t say that I hate a lot of things in life.

but busyness is indeed one of them.

I can’t stand busyness - I can’t stand me being busy.

No wonder I’ve been grouchier, touchier and generally more easily agitated recently.

I’ve been too busy.   

And being busy makes me mad.

Cause I just don’t believe that’s how I was made to live (all of us actually).

I miss life.

I miss love.

I miss joy.

I miss peace.

When I’m busy.

I struggle to stay grounded when I’m going, going, going.

And the worst bit to me - somehow it seems like the beauty of our souls gets blurred when we’re living in fast-motion.

I can’t stand being busy.

Soooo why then oh why … can I not seem to get unbusy?

connected.

This morning I feel disconnected.   not to God.   not to church.   but to friends.   to my community.    I was "connected" way too late into the evening with the tasks of my job that I missed my weekly connection to my community.   

Sure I could have gone straight there and they would have welcomed me even terribly late.   

But I needed something else first.

I needed space.   I needed to breathe.   I needed to walk Bugs and have a cup of tea.   I needed solitude.    Before I could engage in community.   I needed to connect to God.

So that’s what I did.   

And though I feel disconnected from my community, I am the better for it this morning.

I was reminded this morning that we do indeed have to fight for community.   It really seems the world fighst against it.    Fight to be there every week.    Fight for the space.

But I was also reminded that community becomes unhealthy when we no longer allow God to answer our questions and meet  our deepest longest and pains.   Which is why as one of my heroes says, community cannot live without solitude. 

Christian community, blessed community, is born (and lives and grows) when hearts already grounded in the certainty of our Maker and Redeemer discover one another.    God isn’t the after thought of blessed community - it’s the forethought.    

So last night, best would have been, not being at the office at 7pm.  But good was finding space.  Space to rest and connect to God.   

so alas I missed my friends last night, sadness.   but instead found the common ground and source for our life together, goodness.   

surely there should be enough space for both in life?   

here

here I am.

here is where I am.

here is where you call to me

here is where I will stay.

for here is where you assure me.   

here I am.

here with you.   

dogwatch

so sometimes I think my dogs knows by heart the important stuff better than I.   

this morning I was in the chair as normal.

he brought me his squeaker (I believe trying to ask for breakfast a little earlier than usual).

I said no.   mornings aren’t for squeaker toys.   

so he obliged, dropped the toy and hopped up on the ottoman and resumed his morning watch perched at the window.

the Psalms say it.

Bugs does it.

I should learn it by heart, too.

Mornings are for watching.   

and finally it starts to click

so I’ve been wondering at myself the past year or so at something new that seems to be moving in me.   

   the need for space - physical space, emotional space, spiritual space, all kinds of space.  all of which has translated into this need for simplicty.

Me, who loves to keep everything for sentimental reasons, who likes to have everything out (in it’s place but none-the-less out), who loves nick nacks, has this enormous urging to throw out; to clean out; to put away; to make space.   Space on shelves; space on the floor; space on the walls, space on the calendar.   Yes my general need for cleanliness, tidyness and order is still there.  But there is something deeper to this movement.   

It’s not even just in my home; it’s in my office and the youth room.   It’s in my finances and bills; it’s in my closet and clothing; it’s in my traveling and packing; it’s in my praying and my living. 

space.  needing and wanting to make life and space within which I live that life, simple. 

I just don’t want all my junk out - precious junk - but junk that still clutters.  I don’t want extra things, just what is necessary.   Down to food in the fridge and the phone on the wall.   

When I think about it, it’s amazing to me how deep this movement and yearning  for space and simplicity runs.    And it’s been going on for a while now.   But it wasn’t until this morning that I began to put it into context.

I was reading. and it started to click.   

"It is the simplicity which lies beyond complexity.  It is the naivete which is the yonder side of sophistication.   It is the beginning of spiritual maturity, which comes after the awkward age of religious busyness for the Kingdom of God.. this adolescent development of the souls’g growth…  I have in mind an internal simplification of the whole of one’s personality, stilled, tranquil, in childlike trust listening ever to Eternity’s whisper."   Testament of Devotion, Thomas R. Kelly.      

simple

spacious

me

life

please.

so be it.

practicing

so I’ve been thinking about something this week.

thinking

and practicing.

All too often I  love the gift more than the giver.  I get wrapped up in the gift that I end up loving it more (in practice) than the giver.    It’s kinda hard to admit, actually.    Because I’m not really talking about the little things that come wrapped up in packages and bows.   I’m talking about the bigger, more important things.   

I mean 9 times out of 10, if someone gives me a gift, it’s special to me and I love it because of who gave it to me (because I love that friend).    I’m all about the thought, the gift is somewhat irrelevant to me (of course that being said, when a friend who knows me wraps up that perfect thing, loving the gift makes me love the friend even more).   

The hard bit I’ve worked out is that we can say "I love you" easily.   I can say in my head I love the Giver more than the Gift but what does that look like, if I live that as a reality.   

and for some reason, it seems of all the givers in this world, it’s THE Giver that gets the shaft when it comes to love.    We say it.   But I’m not so sure we live it.   

Is it the sunset I love more or the Giver of the sunset?

Is it the friend that I love more or the Giver of that friend?

The list could go on forever.   I’ve been seeing it everywhere.   Do we love our church more or the Giver of that church?   Do we love our life more of the Giver of that life.   

It’s easy to say in my head, of course I love the Giver more than the gift.

But I think it’s much harder to make that thought and those words flesh and blood.

To live like I love the Giver more than the gift.   

So I’ve been practicing this week (mostly when I walk).   

Practicing loving the Giver more than the gift. 

summer has broken.

one morning this week I actually got to put a hoodie on ( a lightweight one but a hoodie none-the-less).

my windows are open and the a/c off.   

sundays are up and running again.   

summer has broken.

I love the summer.  I dread having to put my sandals away each year.

But somehow this summer just didn’t seem to end, just like the heat.

there’s something about being trapped in air conditioning, unable to be outside - it does something to the soul.   

so finally summer has broken.

I’m ammused that today is the last day of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year…   

summer is over.   summer has broken. 

a new year begun.

I pray in more ways than one.