Sunday, December 6, 2015

Lines from the Months of This Last Year: January


Please bring me back to the very basic basics, my Lord. Humble me enough to do the bottom-rung work, drink milk, if that's what I need.

What do I need to learn? I'm feeling the need for love. For more love, truer. To really love. To not be worried if I am taken amiss.
Open my heart to You.
And please show me how to love him as You do, not controlling, not worshipping, not suffocating - clear and fluid and unafraid. Help me be ready. Make the way upright completely.

Today I chipped a tooth.
Honestly, You're almost unbelievable. So creative and precise with everything. Be always bringing me in.

So, yeah. You really do answer prayer. Thank You. Oh, man. Wut even iz this. On a day when I was especially feeling the pinch.
And now. Help me Sabbath rest/worship/do good with You, come closer, mean it more, glow from our conversation, our intercourse. I hope You like the smell of nard...

Boko Haram killed ~2,000. Jews, jewish bodies. Casper ten Boom. I need Your help. Will You help me? Do You really love me that way? Spoiled. Rotten?
Compassion? Obedience? Surrender?
You, I want to please You. I want to remember that this room, too, is a coordinate in Your universe. I am known by angels. "Doubling" again may be a problem, or it may not be. Please till me. I want to share all this, to make You sweat and tremble. To look in Your eyes, have You look into mine, 4 whole minutes plus forever and forever amen.
Help me love so much that I won't seduce. That I won't manipulate, enslave, tear apart. Bring him only good all his days. And You, too.
Teach me love love love love love LOVE.

Thank You for cherishing me enough both to let me be stretched and to help me feel safe, have heart.
What a concentration of power there is in a place where walls are broken down and people know they are broken and have motivation to get well.
Thank You for real love from family, friends. For the promise of You even when I am disoriented and still afraid of dogs and driving and the city and every real thing about life.
I choose You. Aye. If I'm mumbling, claim me.

Help me submit myself to You today. Not because I mentally know it's best, but because I love You.

Chastity. . . oh . . . sometimes I just hate things. The bald empty ugliness of promiscuity. It's like a slavery, a whimpering for acceptance, a hollow grin. Help me recognize holiness for all it is, and not be afraid of being misunderstood. Help her to be honest and simple, even in complexity. I don't mean simple. But true.
The way an arrow is simple, hitting the mark.
The very hardest most vigorous and trained (and oft-failed) simplicity.
Dad and I started a crummy "Scarlet Pimpernel" and switched to a second-rate Alfred Hitchcock. The male figure said he wanted his girl to be "simple, honest, loving." I asked Dad, scoffing, what he meant by simple. Dad said, "Uncomplicated". I wished him luck.
Living is complicated, man or woman.
But there are some things to stand on.
"Who is this coming up from the desert, leaning on her lover?"
It's me.

Do not by any means let me grow into myself like a toenail. Let it be like "bent head under wing."

Snow. Mom is HOME.
Thanks for the weeeevils in my mac & cheese. I ate the whole box, for dinner and snack. Thanks for prayer this morning.
Help me be a nurturer, not an exploiter (Berry). For Your sake, Jesus.

I still don't understand.
I'm thankful for the way You speak to me, and through me sometimes, but I'm not sure I really believe all this about the fame and the money. When are things intrinsically good and worthy? Am I being entitled, lazy? Or am I still TOO WORLDLY in my expectations of productivity and success, and need to get over myself and be still and weak and willing for once?
Who am I? Does it matter? Does it matter if I feel consonance with myself? Feel anything?
Lord, I am feeling a little un-made all over again. Gather me. Subsume me...chirp chirp.
I am thankful. I am content.

ALL of this is GIFT. Pure gift. Words, talent, possessions, any taste or compassion or intelligence or wisdom I may have... it's from You. Gloria.

Right now it's strange, my Orvieto memories are heavy. Like walking past that creepy shop with the poster where a kiss was cannibalism. Like the condemnation I felt in Florence. Oh free me. Like the night at the monastery I finally stretched out on that green bed and blessed my legs for taking me through the day. Like the times I let myself be swallowed in a hug, or the ascension of voices. Or the quiet first hour of our pilgrimage.
Make me a good donkey.

The last hour of January. Thank You for this month. I haven't been thankful for all of it, but help me be thankful now.
Help me talk and love and be taught and led. I am such an ass. I do know I asked You to help me be a good donkey...
You are so beautiful. Your wooing can be trusted. Help me trust You.
Please guide all tomorrow. Protect & guide Pope Francis.
Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.

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