Wednesday, November 8, 2017

You, Yourself, October 27

Remind me that You finish what You start. You do no thing in halves.
Help me to trust my safety with You. Right now I feel, at least partially, like You're going to ask me to do things I don't want to do, become someone I don't want to be. Clear away the lies. Remind me that everything that has even given me delight has come from You. And that You, Yourself, are my desire.



Chanticleer, October 25

I'm so full of things I want to understand.
Why I have this gross heartburn, for instance. Why my car is running rough. Why I feel the way I do about my work, and about my future.
I'm inconsistent. I've been letting a lot drop.
But all is not lost.

Chanticleer was so delicious today. And the "soaking" wandering we did for the first 90 minutes was glorious. I nuzzled basil, touched a carp on the forehead (who had just gaped at my finger as if to swallow it), read Jane Eyre on a stone chair, watched chipmunks and a slug and 2 (mating? fighting?) dragonflies. Avoided the gossamer yardage of a spider's web only to blunder into it later, bringing a sassafras leaf to Mom.

I loved wandering alone, letting everything come to me as it would. 

It is Acceptable, October 22

Please redirect all this longing and purpose-hunting in me.
Please help me to keep all these things on the altar. To shout with joy and fall facedown as I see You flame out and consume my offering.
It is acceptable to You. And I am filthy.
Here we are: do I see You blazing in holiness on my behalf? And offering Your love, Your body, Your inheritance? You are a true husband to me.
Let me be Your wife. 

Keep Keeping it Simple, October 16

Did I do anything that mattered?
Do I think I MUST?
Gospel.
Grace.
Here we are again.

I'm full of fears. Contradictions and fears. I need to keep painting even when I don't know what's going to happen. I need You. I am not in a good place mentally/emotionally/spiritually. I can tell, because I wouldn't do well in a hospital. Or 10 pounds heavier. Or giving up a day. I'm filling up my mind with distractions. So show me what I'm avoiding.
Teach me love for those right around me, who are easiest to overlook and judge. Help me pray. Purify the thoughts and intentions of my heart. Help me keep keeping it simple. 

Warm Rough Gentle, October 12

Give me Yourself.
I will never be satisfied otherwise. And nothing and no one can save me.
I could shriek. Hold my face in those warm rough gentle hands of Yours,
and look at me steady. 

You Can Be Too Careful, October 12

You CAN be too careful, I believe. Like the priest and the Levite. Like the Pharisees. Like David counting his fighting men. Sometimes faith is getting messy when you really don't know the outcome, just respond from love.

Hem me in. Remind me that even in my doubts You love and want me. Don't let me fall for this lie:
"Since I've doubted and struggled, 'even if' He is there He won't want me. I'll be a traitor, out of favor."
Remind me again of Your favor. 

Young Love, October 11

Give me a greater capacity for loving, the love that is not all fireworks and giddiness, but conscious self-giving and seeing and embracing the other, honoring and serving and respecting.

Sometimes "young" love seems so very boring to me. What has the person known and suffered? Who are they? What are their dreams, yes - but what are their sacrifices? I want to be willing to sink in my own thoughts.
To have You exalted.
"You tell me I will write poems about myself..."

Only a Rill, October 10

I was happy to be alive today. I was more aware of it than usual.

And even so, nothing was whole, nothing complete or satisfactory. Acceptable, but. Kick me with desire, again!
Sometimes I'm startled by the passion inside of me. Other times I'm appalled by my lack of passion, like Casaubon, who expected to let loose a river of emotion and desire, and found it only a rill.

I don't want to be dead, jaded, numb. But neither do I want to rely on my next emotional high. You delight in subtleties. And emotions are meant to move me toward You (either in embracing them or refusing them). Felt, then handed over.

Some things I won't even write down. But You will collect and sift it all, and You will make enduring whatever should endure. 

Sunday, November 5, 2017

Small Glories, October 5

I woke up a little after 5, to Dad's quiet shuffling, and realized he would probably move the car before the driveway sealers came at 8, and that when he did, Florence + the Machine would BLAST, so I got decent and tiptoed out to eject my CD. When I turned back: the moon.
FULL, white, gleaming over the forsythia, with an entourage of clouds. Tilted, as it's wont to be in the morning, but I forgot. A playful, cock-eyed expression.
After gazing a few moments, I went back to bed. Slept in, and made french toast for breakfast. 

Please Be My Friend, October 2

I need a friend right now. Please be my friend. Hear me out and speak some sense into me. Love me even though I'm off-kilter and contradictory.
Bring me somewhere I can run. 

Nuisance, October 1

Please help me to love. Too many people. For me. On my own. I'm not able. They sometimes feel like a nuisance, and that is sin.


Pantocrator, September 29

I painted/wrote "Christ, Pantocrator" today. And it's appropriate, I think, that it makes me uncomfortable. And that it's had so few responses online. I should expect this, not to be melodramatic. But You are divisive. And going to You outside the camp means becoming a weirdo, a fanatic. I think it must always come down to that. What, Who, will I allow to control me? To have authority over my life?
I tremble a little, with the thought of representing You. I never can. I looked through Orvieto photos again, to find that photo of the chapel, showing Marie's open book and the icon with the cobalt and almond eyes, and the expression I can't shake.
Your eyes two sunken canoes I drowned in...

I just want to say again, clearly, that there's no such thing as independence. And although, timshel, I have the terrible responsibility for myself (I and none other), I cannot even pretend that I could attain freedom in self-realization or power. I'm a puppet of Satan if I follow my own lead, what seems right to me.
Please help me.

Thank You also for the monarch on the zinnias. For helping me reply to R. For giving me food and water, for the wind in the trees, for a car that didn't break down, and for helping me call my Senators and Rep. about immigration allowances.
I actually got a PERSON at the Rep.'s number, which caught me off guard.

Keep showing up. Keep wooing me. Help me use the little faith I have. Take it as far as it'll go. And increase it. Be pleased. Delight in Your work. Be adored and honored. Keep me weak and broken at Your Name.


THIS is a Reminder, September 29

THIS is a reminder that 
O
OBEDIENCE
is often to the smallest nudges, 
and is always worth it. Listen.
DO                   IT.

I woke up this morning with the slightly nauseating feeling that I should stop by the library on the way back. I considered it, and deliberated, but I knew that what my fear was telling me shouldn't win. Love made the choice. 
And was roundly, soundly rewarded. 

A Few Things, September 28

1. Today was utterly beautiful, and You deserve to be kissed.
2. My budget keeps working somehow.
3. Thanks for giving me a job I love.
4. The film was nearly perfect, so the imperfections are particularly distressing.
5. Today I know I'm beautiful.
6. Help me know how to respond to R.
7. Bring D a revival.
8. Please give me songs.
9. Teach me how to be sacrificed.
10. All glory to You, Lord Jesus Christ. 

I Have You, September 24

Why are subway stations so lonely?
Why do I have such unreasonable fears when I ride public transportation, that maybe it isn't the right line after all, or they won't stop at my stop, or I'll miss it...
I never have.
Sometimes I think, "I'd be so much more confident/serene/safe if I had a man with me. Someone to lean against, to discourage comments, to back me up if a gesture of charity went wrong." But I have You. I have You. You are always there with me, and "the help of man is worthless".*




*Psalm 108:12

Suburban, September 23

I made it to my 7:43 train at Suburban with time to spare. There was a woman stretched out with blankets at the subway entrance, and I started to fumble in my bag for one of the granola bars I'd brought for the purpose, but gave up and kept moving down the steps.
I wondered afterward what I should have done. If giving the bar would have been more for my comfort or hers.

I don't simply have fun in the city, as I was telling Dad tonight. I'm too sensitive to the people around me, some that might as well be torn by shrapnel, their lives are so devastated. Should that ever become normal? Should I learn to ignore it? It's even hard to ignore the comments of solicitors. Are we ever free from responsibility to each other? We ARE our brother's keeper. What do I owe to the man with the cardboard sign, the sloppy-drunk 30-something on their way home to D-Town, the supercilious businessman on the phone behind me?

What do I owe You? How can I love You as I walk the streets of these cities where You are not absent, even in the stale hot air and industrial waste? I hope it means something to ask You, "Give me love, not fear, for every person I encounter." When people look at me, my face, my walk, my entire demeanor, may it point to You. May it be a sign of something holy and hope-filled, safe and convicting and right.
And may I be ready to give up myself, my "safety", my comfort and self-righteousness. May I see You as You are, and love You. 

Seasonal, September 20

We have to allow ourselves to be seasonal. Right now I'm making a lot of images, and not a lot of words or songs.
Don't even have them in me most of the time.
I would love the gift back, but for now it's OK. 

Sunday, September 18

It's Sunday. I had the afternoon at home, and now it's after dinner and I'm wondering if I still didn't do what I should have, to connect with You. Remind me that it's not all about me, or measurable, quantifiable. But help me do what I can to seek You. And chase me, Lord.


Piles, September 15

It was like what I expected. And I'm pretty good at adjusting to social things, thanks to You. The neighbors showed me the house, warned me about the conditions and smell. Three cats, and so much clutter and trash. I started on the bedroom. The cats had been there a lot. Apparently she'd made a path to the bed, and the rest of the room was floor-to-ceiling piles. It wasn't today, though. I helped clear out everything that remained. The cat hair and other leavings could have filled a salad bowl.

I was sneezing and runny-nosed, but enjoyed my work. I felt like singing. But I was ready to leave when it was time. I'm glad they were willing to tell me more of their story. A lot of things made sense. Cancer. Divorce. Multiple jobs. Exhaustion... we are so vulnerable.
But one thing I kept thinking was, "Grow your loving for the living...". I actually sang "Ace" on the ride home. Keepsakes of the past can literally suffocate you. And if they don't help you live, and love the living, they need to go. Let it go.

Her daughter came for a little while. I felt for her: it must have been embarrassing to find me there more or less "on charity". She was apologetic. She struck me before as painfully self-conscious. Flawless makeup and dress - and she is lovely. Really gorgeous. But not comfortable. Constantly trying to compliment others and be non-obtrusive, to the point that it's distracting. The darling. Lord, give her steadiness and freedom and release and boldness and fearlessness and an unshakable identity in You. 

Used, September 14

B reminded me what her husband tells her: "Someone else's poor planning does not constitute YOUR crisis."
I'm a little nervous going into this, not wanting to be used. But...weren't You?

Thanks for the winks and reminders that You're watching. You are SO MUCH MORE than watching. You are so patient with me, more patient than I am with myself. Help me know how to please You. Trusting You pleases You.
I show You honor by taking You at Your word.