God is Here

I walked into the deep dark night, the crescent moon lighting my way. Tilting my head back to fill my eyes with the night sky, the Big Dipper shone straight above me, full and clear. Laughter filled my soul. God is here.

In the morning light, I headed for the river rock trail and a still small voice said, ‘Turn.’ I turned away from the path, toward the sea, and there before me was a magnificent eagle soaring in the clear blue sky. God is here.

The persistent morning wind blew through the sunlit trees. Waving. Calling. Singing. I am here. Yahweh. Spirit. God.

She built an altar out of discarded metal—a ladder representing her fears. She built an altar to a God she said she did not know—a God whose name she could not speak. He wooed. He called. He said, “I am here.”

She waited. She listened. She struggled. She railed against the hope. She slept. Peace came and washed over her through a flood of tears. She wept. She knew. She spoke the name. “God is here!!”

the collective "they"

I looked at the young woman and I saw a hundred others; perhaps even a bit of myself. If we see it in someone else, we have it in ourselves. Fact or Fiction? What did I see in her? I saw the holding on. The struggle to maintain an appearance that she thought was pleasing. I saw her battling to stay in composure and keep others at a distance. And I saw her pleading for someone to come a little closer.

Is that not a struggle we all have? Come closer, but not too close. Searching for our true identity—one that we can call our own rather than one created to “please” everyone around us.

This week I have been helping facilitate a personal growth workshop for Soltura. With a little break in the action, I thought I would share the above ponderings along with the following words from Sue Monk Kidd. As always, I would love to know your thoughts.

“Change begins with the recognition that we’re not so much an “I” as a “they.” We may like to think that we’re individuals living out our own unique truth, but more often we’re scripts written collectively by society, family, church, job, friends, and traditions.

We need our outer roles and identities, of course, but we also need to live them authentically, in ways that are true to our unique and inner self. When we live exclusively out of the expectations thrust on us from without, rather than living from the truth emerging within, we become caught in the collective “they.”

So if all those roles were suddenly stripped away, what would be left? Who would you be then?”

--Sue Monk Kidd. When the Heart Waits

photo © h3images

holding tight

“We heap on the darkness, constructing a variety of false selves. We become adept at playing games, wearing masks as if life were a masquerade party.” --Sue Monk Kidd

The young woman sat before me dressed in her work clothes of tailored black pants and crisp white shirt. Her face clean of makeup. Her eyes tired from a cold—or was it more? Her long silky hair pulled away from her face in a ponytail that was a little messy, but still very ‘together.’ She held onto herself, grasping her stomach tightly, throughout our time together. Her face turning deeper shades of red as she tried to convince me that she ‘operates best under stress.’ It was almost as if I could hear her saying, “if I just hold on tight enough, all of the emotions I feel inside will not spill out and fill this room. If I can just convince you maybe I can convince myself that everything is alright and I don’t need help.” But she did not convince me.

I could see the terror on her young face. Terror and determination as she talked of breaking away from her “controlling parents.” Parents who were concerned that she wanted to work multiple jobs while going to school and playing sports and maintaining an active social life. From what was she running? If she were to slow down, I got the sense that the feelings would drown her. Did she have that same sense? Nowhere to turn. No one to trust. A ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

She hinted of betrayal. Friends she could not trust. A young love gone bad. The fighting in her house followed by the absence of family members. “They just leave,” she said with a shrug. The themes were all over the place, but still she tried to convince me that she did not need help. She could not fit in one more thing. She could only trust herself. But, here she sat betraying herself. Pushing her body. Exhausted and worn out. Driven. Holding tight. She saw herself as moving toward something. I saw it as running away. Her attempts at security were slowly eating away at her soul.

mystery on the mountain

Where to begin? I feel like I am a player in a 21st century God-directed version of The Birds. It’s not nearly as scary, however, but it feels like if I don’t listen carefully, I may be covered in blue jays cackling and laughing at me for not paying attention.

Perhaps I should back up just a bit. A post for me these days would not be complete without the mention of dreams. Let me add to that the topic of waiting. Or maybe it is more like Pamela spoke of in her comment on beginnings and endings, it is more aptly a time of transition. Yes, I think that’s where I am. A time of transition. In between dreams. Waiting to see what manifests while trying to be present to the world around me.

So, where do the birds come in? Well, last week I was driving along the rode and I looked to the side and saw one distinct blue jay. Beautiful. He seemed a bit out of place, because I don’t recall seeing many (any?) blue jays around here. A day or two later…same thing. Different road, same thing: A single blue jay placed herself distinctly next to my stopped car. Coincidence? Perhaps. But, here is where the Alfred Hitchcock thing really starts to happen…Yesterday, I was at Mount Rainier with friends. As we were going to our car after lunch, there was another amazing blue jay. And then another and another and another until they nearly surrounded us. It was incredible!!

Third time's the charm, right? I finally began to wonder, “What’s the deal with blue jays?” One of my friends said that they represent either dabblers or masters. Hmmmm. So, this morning I popped open Animal Speak and looked them up. Here is what it said, “Those with a jay as a totem usually have a tremendous amount of ability, but it can be scattered or it is often not developed any more than is necessary to get by...The blue jay reflects that a time of greater resourcefulness and adaptability is about to unfold. If the jay has flown into your life, it indicates that you are moving into a time where you can begin to develop the innate royalty that is within you, or simply be a pretender to the throne.”

What did I hear? It’s time to focus. Listen. Wait. Be still and know that I am God. Be direct in what you choose to do and stop being scattered. Listen. Wait. Focus. Whew! I think I’ll stop for now and let that soak in!

So, if I didn’t lose you in all that talk of Alfred Hitchcock and congregating birds, I would love to know what’s stirring in you. Do you feel scattered or focused? What does it mean to wait? To listen? To be still in God's presence? To follow your dreams?

(I have a few more thoughts about where this message is leading me particularly in relation to my dreams, but I think I’ll wait and listen for now.) Stay tuned…☺

lucy's photos from mount rainier 5.01.08

beginnings and endings

Anyone who has been reading here recently will know that dreams have been very present in my mind these last several days. Dreams to me represent a kind of beginning. A change of the wind. A longing of the heart. And so it seems a bit ironic to me that in this time of new beginnings and wondering what comes next, I have found myself in the midst of endings. As I ponder more, however, I realize it is not so ironic after all, because in order for something new to begin something else may need to end.

I have spent the last two weeks ending with students who I have watched transform over the past eight months. They came in as caterpillars, wrapped themselves tightly into cocoons and now I have the honor and joy of watching them spread their wings and fly away. It has been harder for me this year than last, because I now know from experience that many of them I may never see again. And so even with the best intentions of “I’ll see you around” or “We’ll get together for coffee,” I know that we are ending.

So, how do I sit with that? Knowing we have done good work together and we cannot help but be changed because of our time together AND we may never find ourselves face to face ever again. Longing. Sadness. Congratulations. Well-done & wanting more. Can it be enough?

In addition to students, there were also good-byes with colleagues who I have come to love deeply. The beautiful part is that we marked these endings with remembering, laughter, tears and holy communion. This feels so different from other relationships that have simply drifted away.

And so I sit this morning filled with possibility for future dreams as the season changes AND also a longing for the things and relationships that have come to an end. Dreams. Beginnings. Good-byes. Endings. Will I dream well today? Will I allow space for longing? Will you? What do you think of beginnings and endings? I invite you to come keep me company today, I have a feeling I may need a little help letting go ☺ .

lucy's photos from puerta vallarta