Wednesday, March 28, 2012
In the early morning I walk downstairs with a lazy pup by my side. My face stings with cold and my feet are wet in spongy grass. I am quiet in this moment, when the trees are still dark and the pavement is glass. No cars turning up this rocky hill - no noise except for the rustling of leaves and the puppy's pink tongue lapping up rain puddles. Solitude. And here I am settled; I can close my eyes and stretch out my hands and feel what lies between sleep-dreaming and inspiration. And I remember that the difference between being alone and true, rich, solitude is communion with the Father...that this life is a montage of moments shared in relationship with people made in God's image. And when I look up at this same sky two months from now 1, 223 miles away I will look back on my life so far and see their faces: the dear ones along with the late night shadows, the words that are too vulnerable to say between four walls but spill out heavy when we sit facing the ocean in all of His vastness and grandeur. And I will remember the ones that I missed along the way. The girl who said music saved her life, the man who shared with me his secret of roaming empty streets at night in search of poetry, the old friend of my parents who dreamed of metal rods and wires that physically united the secret purposes of the Triune God...those strange moments that were transparent and made me think for even a second that we are both dirt of the earth and kiss of His mouth, brother and sister. I will look back on my life and know that His love for them is scar-in-hands deep, and I have seen pieces of inspiration because of what they dream. I did not know the woman who collects glass bottles to make art houses or the nuns in Richmond who drink whiskey - I don't know the Iraqi woman next door who makes tabouleh for six even though she lives alone. But I know that these are orphan stories... our lives weaving together and it is all so redundant, isn't it? But it is so good because when I let myself enter into community the way I was meant to - that is - hands on shoulders, I will delight to carry your burden of Glory because we are salt of the earth kind-of-community..when I enter into that, I will know that the cornerstone is Christ; and it was made to be our story, too.