Out of the Darkness

Darkness
comes suddenly

and envelopes me.

Startled, I stand frozen

 as the hooded shroud encloses.

Heart beating.

Pulse pounding,

Breath panting.
I am plunged

into the unknown

abyss.


Gasping. Flailing. Thrashing.

Trying to hold on.

To what?

To whom?

I cannot see. 

I cannot hear.

Still  I sense
 a presence.

Who is there?

Twitching,
yanking
 wrestling,
I struggle
 to regain vision.


I grow weary

and collapse.

Anger percolating now.
The blaming begins.

How could You?  I demand.

Where are You?   I call out.

Silence.


I sense you are smiling.
you leave now.
Satisfied.

Hear me! I shout to You.
Answer me!  I scream.

Nothing.

Coldness sets in.

I curl up in the emptiness and shiver.

Wrapping myself in anger and sadness. 

Wet from tears.

Alone, in the quiet stillness.

I surrender.

Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.

Then, a stirring. 

What was that?
A flutter. 

Dim memories return.
A hardening chrysalis.
A dark, watery womb.

A promise forgotten.

I hope.

Are You there? I ask.

Is that You? I try again.
Shhhhhh, a warm breeze
greets me.


Why did You bring me here? I ask.
Silence.
The breeze stops.
Who brought me here? I demand.
Stillness.
You will not play
this game.


It wasn't You, I say,
knowing now.
 No matter, I feel You say
as the first bits of light
penetrate
the darkness.


I AM here.

Ding dong! Two months later...

One of my favorite shows on HGTV is called "House Hunters."  It is a reality show about people shopping for a new house. The show takes us (the viewers) along on tours of three houses the people are considering purchasing for their next home. Then, afterwards, they tell us which of those three houses they chose.

At the end of the show, we (the viewers) get to "drop by" for a "visit."  This return visit is always introduced on screen by the sound of a ringing doorbell ding dong! and an on-screen banner announcing how many weeks or months it's been since the homeowners first moved in.  This is always my favorite part because I enjoy seeing how each person took things they didn't like about the house and changed it to their own tastes.  Sometimes I'm disappointed by the new look and sometimes I'm completely amazed by the vision the new owner had for a space, wall, or niche that the previous owner (and I as a viewer) did not have.  I've seen new homeowners completely transform what was previously "wasted space" into whole craft rooms, or clever little libraries.

This is particularly of interest to me now, as I'm currently two months into a new home.  I've spent some time daydreaming about that ding dong! and how different my house might look at the three-month, six-month and one-year mark.  At times I even notice myself stressing out because I realize I'm fearful of not meeting my (entirely make believe) interior decorating expectations, and I'm silently racing to reach those milestone deadlines to see if I will be able to transform new spaces out of something not seen before.  Since budget is always a factor, I'm sure much of my daydreaming will still be merely a dream at those pesky calendar markers.  Still, at times I can't help but hope money will fall from the sky and my house will be "picture perfect" after only six months!  Sometimes the stress of that can start to weigh on me. 

In a quiet moment the other day, though, I became aware of a new sense of peace I've gotten while being in this house.  I looked around trying to figure out why.  From a decorating standpoint, there is still much to do.  And, in fact, I find myself losing interest in getting it decorated (again mostly due to budget restrictions, I imagine), so the possibility of meeting those make-believe deadlines is probably less likely than ever. 

So, why the peace?  Well, certainly with every day that passes  I feel more familiar with this house, and I know from experience that familiarity and routine are two of the most critical factors in "home-making."   But this was something else.  Something deeper that went beyond the surface of decor, furniture arrangements, and even routine.  I couldn't quite place it, but nonetheless was grateful for the sense of peace.

Then, yesterday I was able to spend some time in quiet reflection trying to put my finger on just exactly what had changed for me in the past few weeks.  I began going down my mental checklist of what I'd hoped and prayed for when we first agreed to make this latest cross-country move.  I silently went back over the list of things that were most important to me, beyond the qualities of the house, and this is what I remembered praying for:

• that my kids would be welcomed by their new school and teachers, and make new friends easily at school, and if possible in our neighborhood
• that I would find ways to use my time and talents volunteering both with my kids at school and for my own fulfillment in other areas  (most likely church)
• that I would find friends of my own rather quickly as I am social by nature and the sooner I have someone to chat with or even hear an occasional "Hi, Lisa!" from, the sooner I feel at home
• that I would be able to get some of the most critical things on my TO DO list for the house (window treatments, towel bars, etc.) done so that I would not feel weighed down with the stress of the seemingly most basic things

Aha! With that list assembled, I realized I was getting somewhere...

• Realization #1: Only days after moving into our new house, my school-aged boys both met several boys and girls around their own ages to play with in our neighborhood.  They ride the bus to school together, and they play together after school.  Nearly every night my kids will either see the other kids out our windows and will run out to play with them, or our doorbell will ring with the age old question being asked, "Can you come out and play?"  What's more is that all of my kids are liking their teachers and making new friends in school, too.
• Realization #2:  The beginning of a new school year is always a great time for schools to cull the class lists looking for new families and therefore "new blood" to volunteer.  My kids' schools have made excellent use of this skill and as a result, my calendar has quickly filled up with weekly classroom volunteering and meetings to help plan future school activities.  In addition, our church just held a "ministry fair" with different booths set up to advertise the various ways within the parish we could volunteer our time and talents.  My husband and I managed to stop in at a quiet time of the fair and got the full-court press from many of the groups.  Already that evening my email inbox was holding my new prayer requests for the prayer chain I signed up for, as well as a meeting date from our parish librarian letting me know when I could come get training on shelving and marking books.
• Realization #3: An evening stroll turned into a vital neighborhood meet-and-greet!  A few weeks ago, we embraced the cool weather and decided to take a walk around our new neighborhood.  As we turned the corner, we realized several neighbors were taking advantage of the same nice weather.  After only a brief exchange we were armed with a half-dozen phone numbers and email addresses for our new-found friends, who are all too happy to smile and shout, "Hi, Lisa!" when they see me in the neighborhood.
• Realization #4:  Most recently Howard stopped by.  You don't know Howard?  Oh, boy, you should!  Howard is the guy who subcontracts to measure and hang window treatments at our local Lowe's.  For a mere $120 he will come and measure all the windows in your house, then return once the window treatments arrive and...drum roll, please... HANG THEM ALL HIMSELF!  I shudder (ha ha at the pun) to think of how long it actually would have taken my husband and I to get window treatments on every window.  (And sadly, how many imperfections we'd see in them).  Howard had our whole house done (perfectly) in one morning. 

With my new checklist in mind, the reason for the new-found sense of peace was no longer a mystery.  Every hope and prayer--large and small--had been answered!  There is always a peace that comes with that, IF we take the time to look for it. 

I have to confess that in previous years it would have been much easier for me to take for granted all the gifts I'd received here.  I would have simply thought I'd deserved them--or even worse that it was my own doing that had made them happen--and would have turned my focus onto all the "things" I still wanted for the house. Real things. Store bought things. 

And I would have completely missed the other "things" I had received.  The intangible, invisible things.  The things that aren't found on store shelves or in mail-order catalogs. You know, the important things. 

But so often, since we don't have to buy them, we think we are owed (or at the very least that we have earned) these important, intangible things.  And if we think that, then we fail to recognize them for what they are:  gifts freely given.

So that explained my sense of peace (also a gift, by the way). It was a quiet, soul-soothing peace that comes from a deep-seated knowledge of the most basic realizations:  1) I don't deserve any of it.  And 2), my prayers were answered anyway.

True, I still daydream about the ding dong! deadline in my head.  But I no longer think of these milestone deadlines in the same way.  I see now that it's not about being able to "show off" my decorating flair (if I have any) nor about showcasing my ability to buy "nice things."  Rather, it's about being able to see how, over time, my outlook has been transformed from a life of entitlement to a life of gratitude.  

True. Humble. Knee-bending. Gratitude.

Gratitude for all the deadlines that have been met.  In record time.  When I wasn't even looking.  So quiet and unassuming I almost missed them...

Ding dong! A prayer answered through a school volunteer list. 

Ding dong! A prayer answered at the church ministry fair.  

Ding dong!  A prayer answered through an evening neighborhood stroll.

Ding dong! A prayer answered at the local DIY chainstore through a contracting angel named Howard.  

In retrospect, I can see that there was one prayer answered in such an obvious way I feel silly for having nearly missed it.  It came in the form of some curious neighborhood kids as they timidly reached up to touch our doorbell...

Ding dong! "Can you come out and play?"

Patience

A while back, my nine-year-old son spent some time studying up on his astrological sign.  He came away from his research telling me that he knew he was a Taurus (he is) because they are known for being very patient (he is not).   Since that time, I've chided him a bit about how he needs to use that patience he was given as a Taurus, like when he's grumbling about waiting in a line (any line),  or when he's reluctantly attending an activity of his sibling's, or well, let's face it, when we're getting ready for church.  The list goes on and on of things that he doesn't have patience for, but since he read that he has patience, he thinks he does.  Or does he?  The other evening we were eating out for dinner and waiting for our food to arrive (grumble, grumble from said nine-year-old), and once again, I asked him to order up some of that patience that Tauruses like him are so well known for.  He knew I was teasing him, so he argued back, with a disgusted sigh, "Huhhhhhh, I KNOW, Mom, but I never said I had good TOTAL patience.  I just have good TEMPORARY patience."


I had to laugh at the irony of his statement, but then I got to thinking,  how do we measure patience?  I guess I don't always know when some one's patience has been tried and tested and when it hasn't.  Maybe for some of us it's a lot more of a struggle than for others.  Certainly between my husband and I, I would have to say he has more patience...most of the time.  But it depends on the situation, too.   I am far more patient with listening to the kids' musical (off-key) practices, and  their sibling banter, but I am far less patient when it comes to helping them with their math or science homework.  In fact, I 've been known to sound more juvenile than them in my whining, "What do they mean multiply the sum of the two integers?  Which two integers???"


Regardless of the situation, though, it seems that only God and us can know just when our patience has been tried and tested.  And, (unfortunately for us), only God knows when it's been tested enough.  It seems to me, though that the best way for us to keep a pulse on this is through prayer, don't you think? In a world where we are so used to getting-what-we-want-when-we-want-it:  instant movies on TV, instant food at a drive-up window, instant money at a drive-through bank machine, instant temperature control touch of a button, all makes us  think that if we aren't getting-what-we-want-when-we-want-it that something must be broken. 
A broken part may be the case if you're not getting-what-you-want-when-you-want-it in many of the previous examples,  but not when it comes to prayer!  Prayer is never broken!  Our thoughts and words in prayer never go to waste.  They will be answered.  As I've seen it written on inspirational wall art before:  sometimes the answer is "yes," sometimes the answer is "no," and sometimes the answer is "not now."  Answers to our prayers can take time.  Still, I often need to be reminded of this little fact from time to time.  Especially when it seems like I've been praying on the same thing forever.    And I've run out of patience  (even TOTAL patience).  So, what to do?


For starters, I find it helpful when I feel myself growing impatient during prayer to remember some activities that are still very rewarding even though they take time to reap the rewards:  going fishing, gardening, raising kids, growing a baby, saving money for a big purchase item like a vacation or a vehicle (or maybe a house!).  These are things where, during the process,  we are molded and shaped along the  way as well.  It's easier to see in these instances once the reward comes that all the work and time and effort we put into making any of these things happen did not go to waste.  We need to think of prayer the same way, and try to keep this perspective!

After all, since God gives each of us his TOTAL love, it seems only fair we give him our TOTAL patience...even if it means an occasional grumble along the way.

Goodbye

OK, so maybe starting with goodbye seems like a strange way to launch a blog.  After all, to most of us, goodbye is where things end, not where they begin.  Many of us think of goodbyes as painful, difficult, something we'd rather not say.  In fact, we often say, "I'm not going to say 'goodbye', but 'until I see you again',"  or some such thing.  We try to find a nicer way to end things.  To make our separation more pretty, less permanent.

But, I have come to embrace goodbye.

It was only a matter of weeks ago that I said many goodbyes to friends, to family, and to people in our community that I'd grown to know and love and trust.  I had to say goodbye to new challenges I was looking forward to, and to all things familiar and comfortable and... well...home.

We were on the move.  Again.  Our third move in five years--with three school-aged kids in tow.  Admittedly, some people have moved more in one year than we have in a lifetime.  For others-- who have been raised in the same place, and are raising their children there, too-- moving as often as we have makes us seem like nomads drifting in the wind who never land for long.

For us, it just WAS.

At first, I couldn't explain exactly what was different about this move than the others.  Somehow I found myself going more willingly.  Not that I wanted to get away from where I was.  Not at all.  In fact, I'd grown to love it there.  Still.  There was a peace in this transition that made the move more seamless.  Something was bridging the gap and making things easier.  Something deep within was telling me that all would be well.  And I trusted it.  And I followed it.  And I knew it would be OK.

I was not born knowing this.  (Or maybe I was born knowing it, but I quickly forgot, because somehow when I come to realize these things, they feel like deja vu).    Even so, I have come to know that God is with us--the God of all of us--no matter what your religion, or your beliefs.  He is the fire within us, and he is the water that gives us life.  He is every bit as real as the breaths we take, and yet, his presence is as easy to overlook as a gentle breeze on our face.

How I came to know him (or her, if that's how you see things), and how I continue to follow him, will be a great deal of what this blog will be about.  He is now so much a part of my story that I couldn't start without him.

Which is why I start with goodbye.

You see, I learned recently that the word goodbye originally meant "God-be-with-you."  Saying goodbye, as Joyce Rupp wrote in her book Praying Our Goodbyes, "was a recognition that God was a significant part of the going.  When you dreaded or feared the journey there was strength in remembering that the One who gave and cherished life would be there to protect and console."  Unfortunately, over time, this meaning has been lost.  Until now.

Now, knowing the original meaning of the word makes me want to try to transform goodbye into a word like aloha: a single word that could wish God to be with you when I meet you, as well as when we part.

But even if it never catches on, for me, finding this word's original meaning suddenly made the peace I was feeling make a lot more sense.  It was easier to say goodbye this time, because in it, I was wishing everyone that God be with them.  And they were wishing him to be with me, too.

To be sure, sharing goodbyes with so many people we know and love--even in its original meaning-- doesn't make starting over (again) easy.  But it does mean we have everything we need to endure it.  Make no mistake, our prayers for patience and courage are every bit as important for us to pack up and bring with us as the furniture, the photos, and the dinner plates.  We need them all as we begin anew.

But mostly, we need all those who love us, to say goodbye.