Tag Archives: faith

Candled…

Posted on
20

I scraped and stabbed and chipped away at the wax, hoping to expose the drowned wick.

Ironic.

I ignored the purposed amount of new candles I’d just set out; I felt compelled to free this one. Eventually I ended up on the floor, legs crossed, working hard at that candle. Breathing heavy. Anxious.

In a moment of metacognition I had this inner conversation with myself. I asked myself why it was so important to free this one inconsequential wick? I answered that there remained a flicker of life and light in that candle. So I continued to scrape away all the sediment and ash.

Eventually my hands grew tired and I promised myself I would chip away more wax later that day, determined to bring light from that burial.

But, still not knowing why.

Until now, in this recounting… I can see that I need light in my life, warm soothing glowing light, and I’ll do just about anything to get it.

Starting with Invisible

Posted on
16

About a year ago my therapist told me to start over.

So I am. I’m taking stock of what I’ve been told. And of what I think I know and think I don’t know. And of what I can stomach.

And I’m starting with “Invisible.”

It’s the only word I’m comfortable with right now. It’s the only word that peaceably integrates my faith and my reality, my outsides and my insides. They can all come and sit at the same love feast of Invisible. And they can get along.

I’m so thankful that Walter Chalmers Smith was brave and honest and poetic in his use of Invisible. He carefully put into our mouths significant words that now roll off faithful tongues without a thought. Oh but we would do well to pause and feel their weight and ask their questions.

We would do well to let Invisible be what It is. Without explanation or footnote or disclaimer.

And we would do well to hold off the buts of “you can’t see the wind, but you can see it’s effects” or the quick go-to of “faith is … being certain of what we do not see.”

I don’t want rationalizations.

I want admittance.

I want to find a brave gray-haired robe-wearing faith-filled Billy-Graham lookalike who will stand here with me in the stillness and quiet and surrender the same confession: “Yeah… I can’t see Him either.“

Write now.

Posted on
29

7/11/11, 10:02am

I’m realizing now, more than ever, that I crave solitude and silence. I’m “one of those people.”

This affirmation came from a short convo with our bass player yesterday. It also came from two little ones who are hanging out at our house all week–holding me happily captive between the words “Aunt” and “Mandy.”

And, right now as my fingers hit the keys, I’m sitting in my kitchen in my favorite spot. And I’m the only one in the whole house. And I can hear the whirrrr of the refrigerator and the buzz of the insects outside who are calling for the rain. And look out the window to check on the weather conditions that might chase my niece and nephew off the beach and back into my house.

But in this moment there’s enough external quiet to help me find some internal quiet. And the internal quiet is really really quiet today. And it’s telling me that I’m at peace with very many aspects of my life right now.

And, sometimes that’s all a girl can ask for.

The quiet is telling me that I love my husband in more ways than I can imagine. And I’m so thankful to be by his side as he starts this new campus. And, even though I don’t know what our lives or our family will look like by January, I wouldn’t want to walk this adoption road with anyone but him.

And the quiet tells me that we aren’t crazy. We’re just …. us. This is how we do things. We have time. And we have energy. And we have dreams for our church and our family and our pursuits. And why not just go for all of them at once? I honestly can’t think of a good reason not to.

Honestly.

Oh. And also, the quiet tells me that I’m ok with myself right now. I’m ok with my new routines and my new world and all that is new and all that will be new in just a short amount of time.

Your turn to write now. What’s going on?