Breathing is hard today. For several days I have been plagued with a horrible cold and have not felt my usual self. I wish I could breathe deeply, but I cannot. Longing for breath consumes my days. I went out for air and sunshine and a milkshake yesterday. The milkshake machine was broken. I drove to the beach but could not make myself pull over and park. I stopped for a Diet Coke and bought Cracker Jacks when I really wanted Crunch n Munch. Desires that seem so simple and inconsequential become heaps of angst. “The ground is always littered with our longings.”I am grieving and I don’t even realize it. My friend Dawn has died. She is younger than I. My son feels abandoned and I cannot rescue him. My health feels crummy. My house needs cleaning. My daughter is 14. My world feels numb and since writing my Lenten prayer, I’m not sure I have given myself fully to anyone. “The ground is always littered with our longings.”
Longing for connection. Longing for wholeness. Searching too hard. Can I just be? Just rest and be me? What am I doing? Searching. Looking. Asking. Seeking. Flat dull spaces block my path. And then I hear my own words, “Let us not move too quickly to the Good News and thus dismiss our pain and sorrow.” Can I sit in the sorrow for a while? Will I allow myself to be present for myself? For my losses?
Death and dying. New birth. New life. Breath seems so important. My mind is muddled. The rhythm of life speaks to me. The pendulum. The ground littered with our longings. The question is how to remain faithful to all the necessary deaths while leaving room for resurrection. The only way to get through grief is to grieve. The only way to take in fresh air is to breathe. Breathing is hard today.
"I write to discover what I know." Flannery O'Connor (& me)
photo by bill hughlett
Posts
6 comments:
Lucy, a long comment, because this poem by Stevie Smith seemed right:
Poor human race that must
Feed on pain, or choose another dish
And hunger worse.
There is also a cup of pain, for
You to drink all up, or,
Setting it aside for a sweeter drink,
Thirst evermore.
I am thy friend. I wish
You to sup full of the dish
I give you and the drink,
And so to fatness come more than you think
In health of opened heart, and know peace.
Grief spake these words to me in a dream. I thought
He spoke no more than grace allowed
And no less than truth.
thank you, tess. this poem speaks volumes and somehow it helps very much to know someone has witnessed my words. "he speaks no more than grace allowed and no less than truth."
Remember: BE STILL, and know that I am God. God in the big, God in the little, God in the joy, God in the pain. He made you. He knows you. He will help you take care of you, and do it for you when you can't. It's okay to just be, even with shallow breath. That most basic of elements, yet so necessary. I am touched by how you have woven Christine's post into your own. I was touched as I read her post...now more so as I read yours! I consider it an honor that God led me to your journey. Thank you! --Karla (aka Kmamommy)
You write to discover what you know? Then keep writing sister, for in your discoveries we who read discover a bit of oursleves and our own need to breathe, or to sit with the sorrow, or for new birth, new life...or perhaps to dance and play....
Thank you for your continued honesty and vulnerability. They are why I come here.
Peace and prayers Lucy,
karla--
it is an honor to have you here with me. most often when i am feeling at loose ends the words that come to me are "be still and know that I am God." thank you for the reminder.
(also, i noticed that two of your favorite books are by dan allender. he is a man i admire immensely and have had the privilege to study under.)
blessings--
thank you antony. when i woke up this morning i wondered if anyone would continue to read my blog if it is so heavy...and then i received the wonderful comments from you and karla. i am very moved. peace and prayers greatly appreciated!!
fondly--
Post a Comment