Dawn's Early Light

Darkness had fallen almost completely. The world slumbers on, except for those pockets of nocturnal life. I am glad for the silence and stillness, glad for the quiet and peace and wondering how long it will last. It is my moment for reflection, thinking about the day, thinking about tomorrow, thinking about nothing really. The silence has become a great friend to me; I enjoy it so much I cannot bring myself to keep much noise going. I have not grown so that the activity and fast pace of life are not appealing, they are and continue to keep me rolling out of bed with joy, and yet this quiet, non-efficient time when I am just zoning out, allowing my mind to wander over things that pop in and pop out of my head, is becoming equally appealing.



Tonight I am pondering priorities and wondering how one chooses which things will take precedence over a world of options. I love to feel special, loved, cherished; I wonder how often I extend these precious gifts to others. I love to write, recording random rabbits that hop through my thoughts. I am disturbed at how seldom I do any writing. I love to read, to enter into imagination and solve mysteries and fall in love and make new friends in the adventures of life. I am surprised at how little fluff I am reading these days - it's all reading for class and teaching. I love the stuff I love! But somehow, even though I know I love the stuff I love, I do not do the stuff I love as much as I once did. Why on earth is that?



It is not that the stuff I love is bad. I will admit there are things that I love which belong on the bad list, but not even half of it would fall under a questionable column. It is not that I am much too important, and much too busy, and much too elite to be above my favorite things. It is not that there aren't opportunities, or all the words have dried up, or the books have all been read. It’s not that I no longer value them as important; after all, in the scheme of things, who doesn't want to be lost in a sea of words the lure you away to the place of adventure, and love, and fantasy, and issues that are not yours to solve. Sounds a little like heaven, doesn't it?



So why am I not doing those things I love so much? Perhaps because the people who want me to do productive work carry more authority in my mind. Keeping them happy, and thinking warm fuzzy thoughts about me is so much more important than me having warm fuzzy thoughts. Or worse, maybe I like the warm, fuzzy feeling from others thinking warm and fuzzy thoughts. As Charlie Brown would say, "Good Grief"! This is so far from any kind of reality, how on earth could this be a reason for giving up doing some of things that I love? Everyone knows that you cannot keep the world around you warm and fuzzy. The same people who yelled "Hosanna, Hosanna" on Sunday were back on Friday yelling "Crucify, Crucify". If you find that hard to believe, just look around you. Have you noticed how the same boss that loves you today can fire you tomorrow? The people who are you friends, and think you are amazing; who one week later think you are hard to get along with? Without sounding whiny, the reality is, it is foolish to spend my valuable time that could be spent in Wonderland working two more hours to make someone happy, who I can't really make happy after all.



Maybe that isn't the only reason. Perhaps I do not do the things I love so much because I lose perspective. I don't realize in my business how many opportunities to love someone else slip through my fingers. As I run onto the next item on the list I don't notice that Sally is having a bad day, Howard’s son is doing poorly in school, and Linda is still sick and lonely. It is only when I stop and think 'hey, no one has loved me today' do I realize how many days it has been since I have loved someone else. Yet, when someone asks me what is new, I find it hard to answer the question. If I am so busy, so productive, so important, shouldn't I have something to account for my time?



A third possibility might be that I do not always like the things I discover when I stop to enjoy the silence, read a book, write a thought, love someone else. It's then that I wonder about growing older, life getting away from me, unpleasant memories from the past. It's the place when I meet the me that is real and alive and not always the person I can imagine myself being. Yes, it's the place of the fluffy comforters and soft pajamas, but it is also the place of fear, of regrets, of disappointment that the fairy tale doesn't always come true. Business keeps all of those thoughts at bay; non-structured time encourages them on. Maybe there is some intentionality to running with all my strength to avoid whatever it is that I seem to need to avoid. If there is truth in that, that is even more sad and ridiculous. Isn't the reality the reality, whatever I might do to avoid it?



The list goes on and the time spent wonder why I am not playing, keeps me from playing. So I am going to sleep with the stronger conviction that tomorrow needs some play time, as does the day after that. I am going to choose to make those things that I love a real part of my life. I bet I make some people mad. Lord, help me to realize I would have made them mad anyway! I am going to keep my focus on the 'main thing' and trust God will flag me down when I have gotten to looking at the storm too much. I am aware that there may be some nasty little demons, who will visit my silence and stillness, and I will be putting my trust in Jesus who said, in this world we would have some nastiness, great news though: he beats the world every time. I think he can give me some victories too.



Good night moon, good night stars, good night dear ones. This is peace.

Emotional Upheaval

Perhaps it is from my family tree I learned the deeply suspicious response to intense emotion.  Honestly, I am pretty comfortable with deep hilarity and ecstatic joy.  It is deep sorrow and grief I find,well, offensive.  I have had the hardest time using the word offensive.  Typing this brings 'shouldn'ts and ought nots' to the front lines in my mind and the great squashing has commensed.  The nice spiritual sideof me is yelling that I could not really be offended by sorrow, after all, we know that grief and sorrow are God given too.  But the heart, the heart is reminding me about how often I say to myself and others 'Don't feel bad!  It's going to be okay." "This too shall pass".  What to do, what to do, what to do.

Sadness is vulnerability to me.  Strong people do not admit to sorrow, after all the enemy might use this to gain advantage.  Over what, I am forced to ask?  Is it a question of faith?  If I loved God, as I profess, would I not feel sadness?  Good grief, how ridiculous is this?  Is it the avoidance of all pain that is just sensible after all, that makes me revolt at grief?  Is it the tears that embarrass me?  Is it the lack of control?  Is it the conflict of my personality and the reality I keep having to incorporate? 

I am truly Tigger by nature, I am bouncy and bubbly and think every day is the great new adventure.  Pain seems to stick its ugly head into my joy and I am confused about how to remain me in the midst of hurt.  It is me, you know, that bounces.  I do not choose to bounce, I try to choose not to bounce at times, as I know that Tigger is exhausting to live with.  I heard of someone else this week that they were always welcomed when they came, always welcomed when they left.  I know that this must be true of me, for I found myself exhausting at times.  Yet, when I am less conscious of others and the need to find a place for them within, I am a bouncy girl.  How do I make sorrow that is also real and genuine a part of my bounce?

Today I grieve deeply.  The tears fall without any conscious thought and I can feel the depth of loss that has no bottom as far as I can see.  I wish to sit with this genuinely, for as long as necessary, but my feet are already finding the need to look for the doorway that leads to the party.  Is the pain a blessing?  Is pain beautiful in its own way?  Is there more to this than I can absorb because I am too busy pushing away and justifying and rationalizing.   Is there something in pain that leads to joy beyond happiness?

Many questions today.  It is deeply uncomfortable.  Even so, come Holy Spirit.

Pushy Hospitality

Is pushy hospitality an oxymoron?  I have noticed in recent years that when people talk to me about hospitality, they are challenging me often to make room for them, or for people who they have judged I do not welcome with open arms.  I need to make room for the poor and the oppressed, I need to make room for the widowed and orphaned, I need to make room for those who are without a people, I need to make room for my enemies, I need to make room for those who believe differently from myself.  I must make space for those who think I am stupid, shallow, judgemental, opinionated, bigotted.  In fact everyone gets a seat at my table, if I am faithful and loving, serving as a true child of God.  I am not sure exactly how big this table is, but I know that if I am not a worthless, shallow, in name only Christian, everyone is sitting at my table, darn it.  My smile stays fixed, the food never runs out and no matter how many times I am rudely address or treated as a dog, my response must be, "Thank you sir or ma'am.  May I have another?"

Before I am left sitting here with Archie Bunker, let me say that the heart of the above it certainly spot on.  I am convinced that this honors God and is genuine love at its best when at our table, in our souls, there is always room for others.  I do not disagree with the sentiment and I would not rush to jumping up and down on the heads of those who teach it.  Come on in, I will make room for you and heck, I even want to make room for you.

However, and let me say this as a person who knows my vision and understanding is limited to what I can grasp at any given time, may I ask this question?  Doesn't everyone have a table?  I mean, really?  Are not the very people criticising my table manners, telling me that I must get a grip and clean up before I can go sit at their tables?  Those who are annoyed that I have beliefs contrary to theirs have decided I must agree they my beliefs aren't meaningful before I am welcomed in?  Is hospitality a 'you all' kind of thing or an 'us all' kind of thing?

Is not the standing back and making demands of the host a total violation of the rules of ettiquette and hospitality?  When did we get permission to criticize everyone elses manners at the table and be confident we had the right to judge, and dispense corrective action?  Is this not the absolute lack of hospitality and grace we are being told to practice? 

The more I dig into spiritual formation and encounter God who loves and delights in His children, the less I have been sure of my judgement and understanding of others.  Yes, my critical nature is alive and well, thank you very much, only from time to time I am given a glimpse of God's grace shining in places where I was fairly sure God would not walk.  If a slow thinking mutton head like me can get that, I am pretty sure anyone can.  So why are we pointing and shoving and yelling "Hey, you, why don't you try love for a change?" and then standing back with smug spirituality (another oxymoron). 

I am back to thinking that while my table needs work, I am confident that God knows just exactly what condition it is in.  God knew what condition it was in last year too and do you know, He just loves hanging out with me anyway.  Interesting people arrive all the time and, as I have become more confident that God is always present, always loving, always delighted to be with me, I have become more comfortable with my guests.  Now when someone comes and spills something or dislikes what is being served there are moments when I am saddened but not dejected because I am so filled with God that I have no room for injury.  Not always, I am forced to say, but sometimes.  That's just pretty good stuff, let me tell you.  So good that I have even started on occasion to fail to notice how other tables are doing, whether they are keeping up the team standards, if they are being gracious enough, darn it!  This is also good stuff.

There is room at my table, not as much as there will be, but room.   I think we can trust God to transform all of us without all the judgement and condemnation.  I think Miss Manners would be all over that,  except she would believe that my use of slang was inappropriate in formal communication.  Which would be rude.  Just saying.

Farther in Farther Up

I am revisiting CS Lewis in Narnia again.  Yes, again.  I have been here before, it seems to be a circular journey as Christmas and Easter often are.  Every so often they are back and each time they are the same and entirely different.  Every Christmas that has ever come has left images and memories, but each is still uniquely new and stands apart.  It is not the stuff or the circumstance exactly, though of course stuff and circumstance contribute.  It is the me who shows up each year, exactly the same as last year and entirely different.  Somehow the same things mean more or less, I appreciate more or less, I need more or less.  I  hear things differently, sometimes grieving that they do not sound the same way, sometimes celebrating that they don't. 

I started reading The Last Battle three months ago and I finished listening to it on my ipod yesterday.   I am glad I heard it, though I must say that the gentleman who was reading it made the experience slightly more challenging as I found myself over and over missing the point of what he was reading because I felt the need to critique his delivery and pronunciation.  (Yes, truly some things never do change.)  There I was back at the stable again, listening to the profound theology of CS Lewis and trying it on with new eyes.  Is the Kingdom of God truly like an onion, with layers and layers, only the layer within begin much bigger than the layer without?  Do our fears and prejudices blind us to the color and texture and smells and tastes of the delightful kingdom around us?  Am I joyfully living the great adventure that Aslan has prepared for me?  How do I reconcile the battle, and the pain, and the fear, and the darkness with the doorway that leads to light, and life,and joy, and delight?  Am I clinging so hard to the half gods, the half world, the half truths that I cannot step through to the genuine thing?  When do I miss that defeat is the first step to victory?

My first journey to Lewis' stable was as a young mother with two small boys.  There the images of the dwarfs gathered in a tight circle, blind to the possibilities spoke to me as a mom who was never able to see light.  I felt paralyzed by the clutter and mess, unable to find a way to begin eating the elephant.  Where would you take your first bite?!  As I read I connected and realized that I too was missing out on the beauty and joy, the colors and textures of life as a mom, and a wife, and a friend, because all I could see was laundry, and dishes. and toys. and dust.  So, I kept the dwarfs in my thoughts every day and I was intentional in reminding myself about the miracles that were a day to day occurrence in my life.  There were so many blessings I had missed!  It took practice but in time I no longer had to prompt myself, I was already noticing how wonderful my kids were, how cute my house was, how clever all of my friends were, how faithful my husband was. 

The second time I was deeply embattled with the struggles of life.  It was a 'dark night of the soul' time for me and I wrestled with who God was, what would it mean if He really didn't love me, as I feared.  There was the darkness and despair that spoke volumes, I found it almost too painful to read.  The hopelessness of the end of the world as we know it was too real for me.  Then it was the doorway that captivated me.  I began to look for the doorway that would end this time of blackness, death and destruction and lead me to the place where the colors were vibrant and real.  It was forever in coming, but gradually a doorway appeared and with great fear and trepidation, I allowed the world as I knew it to end and embraced the world within that was love, light, truth.

This time it is the farther up and farther in that calls to me.  I am eager to push on to more, only I do not know what that is, or how to go, or who one travels with.  I am captivated by running and not growing weary and soaring into bright blue skies.  I understand the Lewis was referring to the ultimate homecoming, and yet, there is within me a conviction that in this life there is the ability for the soul to do what the body cannot.  I want to go farther up, farther in.  I can still see the doorway though I know that the other side is gone to me forever.  I would like to live in expectation of meeting Jesus around every corner, of comfort in the garden of the King, of being unable to be afraid again.  Wouldn't the ability to live fearless be amazing?!  Perfect love drives out fear, I know.  I see often how imperfect my love is. 

Farther up, farther in!  Letting go of all that holds us back, we run on to take hold of that which Christ has already taken hold  for us.  Perfect love, where we run and not grow weary, where a table has been prepared for us.  The Kingdom within the kingdom, so much more than we dream.  Farther up, farther in!