Love and blessings for your day my friend

Love and blessings for your day my friend

image

Photo source and image copyright Curly Girl Designs http://www.curlygirldesign.com

Originally sent as an e-mail to a dear friend; it occurred to me it would make a good post as well.  The human soul is a fragile thing indeed, but that is one of the things that makes it most beautiful and precious. For it is, as Thomas Merton wrote, like a crystal: it is the light without — God’s light– shining through a soul that brings it to life. May you find hope and blessings this day. — VKS

—–

My Dear Friend,

Blessings for your morning — I love you, and God does too (know that on both counts).  Come what may (come all that may), if you are reading this, you are alive on a day and in a life that holds so much beauty and love.  Know that — take time to notice it.  There is no joy or beauty too small not to praise the Lord.

—–

“There is not a flower that opens, not a seed that falls into the ground, and not an ear of wheat that nods on the end of its stalk in he wind that does not preach and proclaim the greatness and the mercy of God to the whole world

There is not an act of kindness or generosity, not an act of sacrifice done, or a word of peace and gentleness spoken, not a child’s prayer uttered, that does not sing praises to God before his throne, and in the eyes of men, and before their faces.

How does it happen that in the thousands of generations of murderers since Cain, our bloodthirsty ancestor, that some if us can still be saints? The quietness and hiddenness and placidity of the truly good people in the world all proclaim the glory of God.

All these things, all creatures, all graceful movement, every ordered act of the human will, all are sent to us as prophets from God.”
— Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain

image

I love you my friend, bless you. I remembered you and your family fiercely in my prayers this morning. I only wish I could give you a hug in-person to give you my love beyond mere words. I am currently reading The Ascent to Truth, which is Merton on St. John of the Cross (phenomenal book even as I am barely into it). I got into what — on my end — was a very interesting argument AGAINST “prosperity gospel” nonsense with G—– last week; she couldn’t wrap her head around the premise of The Dark Night of the Soul and I think thinks I’m completely nuts (and possibly evil or dangerous) for raising the question in the first place. I was also talking about that premise [with K—–] on the way home from church yesterday, that, no — this is not the place where you know things are bad but you know God loves you, this is the place where things are SO BAD you can’t see or feel God anywhere in those darkest of dark moments. And if your life with God includes NO blessings, is who God is ENOUGH to love him, praise him, serve him?

G—– cited that as a weird question. I was also speaking against one of Job’s friends who equated “lack of apparent blessings” with “secret sin” or perhaps some other deficiency of love or faith (as many today would accuse in similar circumstances). I reminded her that it is also the question raised by Job — if all life is without blessings, is who God is ENOUGH? That was dismissed too. I remain convinced, however, that it is a good litmus test for faith — do I love God because I LOVE God, or do I say I love God because he is “the god who gets me stuff”? Obviously my answer is the former (spiritually-shallow people do not take up with Carmelite mystics for “a little light reading,” and then take up with a Trappist monk for deeper reflection!!!!!).

You are loved, dear sister — by God, by me, and by so very many. May that sustain you this day, come what may. The grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you my friend.

Much love in-Christ,

Val

Blessings and storms

Blessings and storms

image

Thus far it has been the most beautiful birthday weekend since 2001.

Today — the morning with my church family.

I will write more later.  For reasons that have nothing to do with festivities, I haven’t slept well in days; presently I’ve been up for hours after…maybe…five hours sleep (after a day of walking about L.A.. with friends — NOT adequate for my day!!!).  It occurs to me that I would live as a servant for the rest of my life if only I could have a truly safe place to rest each night where I could sleep in total and absolute peace, a place where I could attain true and real rest.

image

I haven’t slept in complete and total peace since 2002.

That’s a definitive part of hell I think — no rest.  The fact that I haven’t slept in eleven years both with peace and without the occasional Benadryl for help is truly maddening.

It has been a beautiful weekend full of so much love and delight and celebrating life.  Still no baby guinea pigs to celebrate with, but I pray that all goes well and that Annie delivers safely and soon.

But even amid so much love and so much joy and so many blessings, the dark reality that we live in a very darkly broken world looms large in so many ways.  I see it well, but would go completely insane to focus or dwell on it.  And I really do mean that: completely insane.  I am, however, sane as sane can be to know NOT to focus on such things.  Still…scary stuff.

Part of what has kept me up this night is a very brief note from a very dear friend who is probably very much more ill than she would ever admit.  It renews a question raised in my mind last fall when her collegues were piecing together a story that involved years of silence on the subject — will I ever see her again at all, in this life or the next? (there has long been a question mark on the last point)

Forever is not merely a very long time, forever is forever — it means “always” or “never,” but “eventually” and “hopefully” and “someday” are just not part of the “forever” equation.

Is a chronic and progressive illness more than that is my question (one of so many questions).

image

Thunderstorm viewed from the back side of Pine Mountain over the Lockwood Valley and Frazier Park, taken 30 SEP 2010

Storms loom in the distance.

I can feel the air changing, I can see the thunderheads building.

There is no peace in this.

Last night, before I went to bed I wrote:

“What I wish from life is not much, or shouldn’t be.  I wish for peace and stability enough that there may be room and provision for me to continue to exist in the world while I remain in the world.  I wish to love and serve God with everything I have while I am in the world.  There may be a problem with this, and it is making me ill.  May God’s favor and provision be with his humble servant, I have no answers.”

Because provision is the open question at this point.

I wrote more at-length to a few friends last night when I got home.  The subject line of that e-mail was: “Wishing for the kind of faith that would make anxiety attacks impossible.”

So much looms and so much is wrong, even on this bright and beautiful weekend filled with joy.  I am not focusing on the darkness, but neither am I ignoring it.

God help me, only he can fix this.

The intro to the backstory to Casting Crowns’ “Praise You In This Storm”:

The full song:

Perfect storm, stormy night

Perfect storm, stormy night

image

So my touch of a stupid cold has turned into pharyngitis, which I’m praying won’t turn into bronchitis.  Coughing up chunks of *magically disgusting* is not my favorite way to pass the time.

Monday was fifteen hours there and back to Ventura, Tuesday was twelve hours there and back to university.  Yesterday I decided to stay local and work on the new-to-me bike I picked up last week that will eventually be my pretty sweet ride.  It is amazing how what looked like “really clean” after removing a thick layer of dust an hour before sunset now looks “really dirty” in direct sunlight.  I’m the kind of person who *does it right* — not merely a quick wash, but scouring with 00 steel wool to get off the rust (employing borax as needed), and then a good synthetic car polish clearcoat over it all.

Yesterday I got the handlebars done, installed the new (very lovely!) synthetic leather grips, and installed a larger saddle that almost matches perfectly; the cupholder gave me fits, but the two new replacement reflectors were easy (the original owner pulled the originals off to install lights).  Didn’t have time to do the bell (KA-CHING!), but since I’m not going anywhere until I fix the wobbly back wheel, that doesn’t matter much.

The fender struts are going to be a nighmare (there really is no way to “rush” scrubbing rust with steel wool), and those are the worst because of how much I have to take apart to do it right.

Eventually this will get done and it will be a beautiful thing, but for now the “what’s clean” just makes everything else look that much more dirty.

And even though I tried to work in the shade, the UV index was crazy high and I ended up with sunstroke and sunburned.

I also, for various reasons, ended up with a screaming migraine such that I wasn’t sure I could make it home.

I did, but I passed the night in screaming pain, blind in my right eye, running a low-grade fever plus a sunburn…unable to sleep, tormented by the nightly battle to keep the bugs away, basically just wishing death and unable to focus or hold a thought in my head.  Is that dramatic?  No…there are some places of pain and illness that can take you to a place where that pain or illness is the only thing that can be processed.  A broken shoulder is certainly one, and migraines can sometimes be severe enough to be another.

I was there last night.

Still found enough energy for a few short messages to a couple dear friends.

image

The night was mostly sleepless, but eventually the meds kicked in and I was granted the mercy of a few hours of the sleep I so desperately begged for.

For in the case of pain and suffering, restful sleep is a great mercy.

To be fair, I still feel like I was hit by a truck (just no longer like I was also dragged by one). I had much to do today, and I am supposed to watch all three kids tomorrow (ages 5, 3½, and 2). I’ve canceled physical therapy to be quiet and rest (I’m not good at this).

I’ve been so constantly ill and recovering for so many months, I honestly thought I was “safe” and would stay well this time. It’s a hard thing to wonder when this season will pass, and how long it will take to truly fully recover enough to face the rigors of a life spent doing “normal” things — working, family, enjoying life…living. It’s hard to feel left behind. It was especially hard to trek out to university on Tuesday, to be in that place, to know I have every right to be there — and someday I will — but also know (and feel) how far this beautiful place was from my own present-tense reality.
image

So much of my own journey always makes me think of Rudy: click here for the best link I could find for the conversation with Fr. Cavanaugh when Rudy first arrives in South Bend.

It’s hard to know that what you want is also where you are supposed to be, but that for some reason the timing is wrong. God? I’m still here, you’re still here…but where? I have no answers, though I remember all the weeping for joy…and then for sorrow. It’s a lot to deal with, especially with zero real prospects of what to do with myself until the timing is right.

image

Double rainbow near Pine Mountain Club, Kern County, CA. Taken 30 September 2010.

Today I’m just too tired to care.

I’ve been reading a lot in recent months, and much on suffering. I think there really is something to the idea that chronic illness can bring a person closer to Christ. Now, certainly, there are sometimes some pretty wild explanations given for that, and the motives for that bring us to that place are sometimes selfish-from-desperation, but close is close. It’s easy to gloss over the “encounter” gospel accounts, but the longer I live, the more people I meet who have lives that perfectly square with some of the darkly broken lives in the gospel accounts (knowing the woman who had a discharge of blood for twelve years — watching how that is destroying her life — is hardest).

My own life, spirit, and health are broken in many ways, but through that I can see (with a very different view) the deeper truth of the hope — a desperate hope — of all who sought this man, Jesus.

There is great humility required to ask for mercy.

There is great faith required to receive it.

Should I spill my secret that some of the best and most wise things I say or write in personal correspondence are not of myself but are inspired? It’s true, and I rarely remember any of it once I enter into a deeply prayerful place while writing. Often the words which touch others deeply were some small aside thing on the way to a greater point. Don’t think that God doesn’t hear our prayers, because he does. It is the absolute weirdest thing in the world to be used by God to answer someone else’s prayer, not know you’re doing it, and then be told later about some inspiring thing you never remember saying or writing. I have been keeping copies of my own correspondence for years, and to have a reference for so much I never remember writing is part of the reason why.
image

One of these things came up on Monday, when I was visiting with a friend in my day’s travels. She said that words of mine — spoken or written to her in a time when she was in the midst of a very dark time and so was I — that really stuck with her were: “Life is beautiful.”

I never remember saying or writing this, but God-be-praised because it is the truth of his glory. Yes, we discussed it: that life is beautiful, life is always beautiful…but sometimes you have to look really, really, really hard to find that. I hold that life is only worth living if you can find God in all things. But I’ll also be the first to admit that there is a level of pain and suffering where I am so distracted and consumed by the pain that God is impossible to find.

That doesn’t mean he’s not there, it just means our focus is distracted in a way such that we cannot find him: that which obstructs our view to God by no means removes God from our reality, it merely removes God from our limited perception of apparent reality.

There is a difference, and the difference is a huge one.

There is the greatest hope that can be hoped in the promise of that difference.