I can't seem to shake this sadness. There's one part of me that is desperate to do this, shake it. I'm tempted toward anger, revenge, being a victim, despair... anything but simply feeling this sadness. This part of me tends to think of this experience in terms of darkness, cruelty, "the end", hopelessness.
But there's this other piece, thankfully. The blogger from Sleeping with bread left this comment on Jan's site yesterday, ". . . staying the journey . . . trusting that this darkness, this tragic time, is also light unimaginable . . ." I have been clinging to this since reading it yesterday. This part of me knows that this place is very sad but also full of hope, that it feels like death but is full of life, that this place seems dark and scary but is full of light unimaginable.
It's like these two parts are having a tug-of-war within me. I'm tired.
And sad.
I wasn't expecting Dave's sermon on Sunday to hit home. I knew that he would be speaking on "when God is silent". (I can't even say that phrase without saying it in a drawn out, southern baptist preacher style, "when Gooooood is silenttt!") But it came home like a gift, a spot of light in this dark place. I feel God calling me out of the unhealthy attachment that I have with my family. In some ways this "fast" chose me - in the way that my family has given me their "no" and in the way that they have excluded me. But now I'm feeling God call me out of this "poor me" place. Now he seems to be asking me to also choose this fast - for the purpose of loosening my ties with this family and strengthening my ties with him. So we spent some time together yesterday - this was the passage I was led to: "The land will be empty of them and enjoy its Sabbaths while they're gone." Lev 26:43. Very funny! Really helpful for two reasons. #1 - it helps to look at this time apart as an enjoyable rest instead of a stripping away. #2 - it's very interesting to note that the Israelites had not been giving the land it's proper rest, nor have I been giving myself a proper "rest" from these family ways - which is part of the unhealth.
God is present. As close as the air I breath. I chose not to run from this sadness. Yet I also choose to keep my face to the light.
5 comments:
You are on my heart, blog sister. I hope peace and around the corner for you.
I'm starting to feel like there are different varieties of silence... or maybe that I experience silence differently depending on my own cast of heart.
May God keep you from Frozen-Outer-Space Silence and hold you close in Overstuffed-Down-Comforter Silence. Rest and find peace, my sister.
staying . . . trusting . . . sounds like a resurrection . . . something old being made new . . .
"...I was partly aroused by a glimmering of white, that, through the trees on the left, vaguely crossed my vision, as I gazed upwards. But the trees again hid the object, and at the moment, some strange melodious bird took up its song, and sang, not an ordinary bird-song, with constant continuous strain, in which one thought was expressed, deepening in intensity as it evolved in progress. It sounded like a welcome already overshadowed with the coming farewell. As in all sweetest music, a tinge of sadness was in every note. Nor do we know how much of the pleasures even of life we owe to the intermingled sorrows. Joy cannot unfold the deepest truths, although deepest truth must be deepest joy. Cometh white-robed Sorrow, stooping and wan, and flingeth wide the doors she may not enter. Almost we linger with Sorrow for very love." - George MacDonald, "Phantastes"
My heart is with you. I bless you and support you in prayer. It is right and good what you are doing; and it is damn hard work.
Your sister, Jaime
These mortals we stumble around with...its soooo hard sometimes. "I'm tempted toward anger, revenge, being a victim, despair...anything but simply feeling this sadness." That's where I was yesterday when I couldn't blog. But one thing I've experienced is that often when God calls me to release something it is so He can fill me with something else...something rightly ordered. There is hope beyond today. Thank you Lord.
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