Hurricane

Current life events led me to turn to last February’s journal. I am both sobered and hopeful at where the seasons of life continue to lead.

New soil. Springtime ready to grow, but there is nothing in the current ground of my heart. It is empty. What little green sprouts will choose to grow there—weeds or beautiful wild flowers? It feels so desolate right now. A hurricane has come through and decimated the land. There is trash and death all along the shore. The birds and wildlife have not returned. Desolation on the beach—the same beautiful, glorious beach that held sparkling diamonds only moments before.

When will life return? What will the resurrection look like? Even those small words feel hopeful for now. I know I cannot rush springtime. Growth and restoration take time and great care. Who will care for me in this time of grieving?
--February 27, 2006

Heroes Are Born

"It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare; it is because we do not dare that they are difficult."
-- Seneca

I am a blessed woman for I have spent the last five days witnessing miracles beyond imagination.

Miracles abound.
I watched the sun rise while the stars still played in the heavens.
I heard coyotes howl in the distance and laughed to see deer dancing across my path.
I saw frightened women lean into fear.
Beautiful songs emerged from dead hearts.
Velveteen rabbits became real.
Bent over women stood tall in their beauty.
New and golden stars shined with all their might.
A monster melted into a bundle of joy.
Heroes were born.
Golden women emerged from the womb.
Miracles abound.

I am blessed and thankful beyond comprehension. Thank you, God. Thank you, Friends. Thank you, Soltura.

Re-Entry

The Joy that isn’t shared, I’ve heard, dies young.
-Anne Sexton, The Awful Rowing Toward God

The ebb and flow of life.
Expansion and contraction.
Opening up and closing in.
Warming of heart and chilling of soul.
Hanging on and letting go.
Sunshine and snow.
Laughter and tears.
Contradiction and clarity.
Finding so much joy that it cannot be expressed.
Bursting with life and burying treasures.

Re-entry is a hard thing. To go from sunshine and blue seas to grayness and snow in only a matter of hours is a hard transition. In the past few days I have found myself ebbing and flowing as I re-enter my Seattle life. One moment I swell with joy and gratitude over the life giving time away, and the next, I am filled with sadness because I am stuck in traffic on a rain soaked highway.

How shall I incorporate my new fullness into today’s life? I am reminded of the tiny hermit crab I watched on the rocky beach at Isla Isabella. She painstakingly worked to carry her new found home from one place to the next. It was hard going, but she labored well. It seems to me that this will be my task, too—to take the joy (the home) so easily found in paradise and pull it across a sometimes rocky (or snowy) path so that heaven resides wherever I am.

I will start with the small, like the tiny crab, and see what blossoms in the days to come.

Still

Oh winter, you are here, but my heart still plays in the sun.
His rays have kissed me deeply & now warm my soul as the frost nips at my nose.

Woods of Splendor

The journey winds through woods of splendor.
Darkness and exposure reach from barren limbs--
limbs intertwined with delight and holiness.
Bending boughs offer protection from the storm and
their pursuit is filled with love and fullness.
It is perfect and whole.
The path is wet and wild, brilliant in its darkness.
The sensual and luscious step out of hiding to become known,
Enriching the journey in blazing splendor.

"st. joe's cathedral"