Saturday, June 9, 2007

Dearest God,

"It was a minor miracle." My husband told me. "Don't you think?" I agreed. A miracle had occurred.

Some things break easily. One snap and the two pieces simply can't come back together. Some are difficult, like trying to break a steel beam that will not budge. In relationships the same thing is true. Relationships built on a shallow foundation will snap and break at the first sign of trouble. But those relationships built on something stronger, like faith, have a much greater chance.

We took a risk, all of us. Not easy. It would have been easier, safer not to. But an event circled us 'round. To stay at home would have been offensive, hurtful to our star graduate. We all gathered. Not certain how anything would pan out, we each took our step forward. No one seemed to mind that first step, much. It wasn't painful, at least not to me. I was ready to step forward, always have been. Well, not always, but most of the time. When push comes to shove, generally I will move positively to mend the breach. Scary sometimes, and sometimes it backfires. But taking a step into the light from the darkness is always good, even if others are not willing to do so.

I learned at your knee a long time ago that life is all about trust. If I trust in you and I trust in myself, then my steps in the right direction will always benefit me even if others reject my step forward. Historically, I have not regretted my steps into the light even though they did not give me what I had hoped for. The darkness is always brooding. Staying in the darkness is easy, no effort involved. But if I really long for a life in the light, then I will eventually move from my dark place into the light of possibility.

I can be stubborn. Okay, there I said it! I can be stubborn, pour my own concrete, step into it, a thick layer and stay right in place. I know how to do that, well. More often than not, my modus operandi is one of fear. If I remain in place, even if it is the darkness, then I don't have to trust, move. I can simply stay stuck in fear forever. But this is not the life I long for. I want the light-filled life. And that requires trust, and a lot of it.

Last night I trusted. I walked in the light. When I saw the darkness, I lingered a bit. I could have stepped inside and wallered. But I chose not to. I think others did exactly the same thing (from my humble point of view, of course). I kept moving forward and forward and forward. One step, then another, another, then another.

As I left the coliseum alone and began the more than two hour drive home, I rolled down the windows, put back the sunroof. The sun was setting in the west and the colors of the sky along with the wind in my face put a smile on my lips. The light of God was traveling with me. I knew inherently that this was my reward for trusting. I zipped down the highway, reflecting quietly, savoring the silence, except for the sound of wheels on the pavement.

Faithful, Constant God,
I am mesmerized
by your challenging presence.
My own poured concrete
breaks into huge chunks
when I dare to trust in you.
When I lean into your bosom,
take your hand,
then begin to walk
the walk of faith,
I discern the best of me.
I am but a skeleton
of rattlin' bones
when I do not trust.
I shake, rattle and roll,
no flesh,
no heart,
no soul,
no passion or spirit.
Dead,
I am but dead.
But trust,
just even a little bit,
I begin to shake in a new way,
life coming into me
like the valley of dry bones.
Living water
is sprinkled over
dem dar bones
and I begin to feel it,
feel it good.
I start to breathe,
breathe right in,
let that Spirit in,
and that life,
she comes right in.
I like it,
I like it real good.

Love you always, Andrea