in the cleft of the rock

The “Grandmother of the Civil Rights Movement," Septina Poinsette Clark, is quoted in my daily read, COMMON PARYAER – A LITURGY FOR ORDINARY RADICALS by Shane Claiborne, et al. This gave me pause this morning. “I have a great belief in the fact that whenever there is chaos, it creates wonderful thinking. I consider chaos a gift.”

What do you think about that? Is chaos a gift?

Over the past few weeks, my mind has been swirling – sifting and sorting as I continue to process an encounter that rocked my world. Misunderstood, I was thrown into the noise of confusion and fear.  I’ve had to step back into the cleft of the rock and listen for the still small voice.

A few weeks ago if you had given me Clark’s words I would have scoffed.  Chaos a gift? Not! Yet, today I can see the truth that chaos has the potential to create wonderful thinking. Chaos has invited me to step into silence and solitude to quiet the monkey thoughts.

There’s a story of a dejected prophet who was at the end of his rope.

He was desperate – literally running for his life.

I can only imagine that he may have felt he had gone from the frying pan into the fire when he encountered a great and powerful wind (which) tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.

Then a voice said to him, 
“What are you doing here, Elijah?”

1 Kings 19:11-13

I hear the same question being asked of me.
What are you doing here, Linda? 
This pause has reminded me – once again, that the gift of grace can be found anywhere – even between a rock and a hard place – in the cleft of the rock. It is here that I will root down to rise up.

proof positive

 

There between a rock and a hard place, I had hoped that I would be met by grace.

Hope does not disappoint.

After a week of processing and reflection, that hope of restoration and recovery has brought a stirring of resurrection. I’ve been waking up to the idea and now, I know - It’s true.

I’ve learned and am learning yet again to trust the process and the Presence….

On this beautiful spring day, as all creation sings, the whispered phrase of an old hymn invited me to get outside and take a good look around at all the signs of new life – of resurrection.

Lord, how thy wonders are displayed where’er I turn my eye,

if I survey the ground I tread, or gaze upon the sky!

Here’s proof positive that grace has met me right where I am today.

May it be so for you.

Peace.

Between a rock and a hard place -met by grace

What began with a dream now feels like death. At least for now – so far as now goes.

As Holy Week trudges  along, I’m feeling attuned to what the disciples experienced as they, overcome with fatigue, questioned, deserted, denied…

A deep, deep desire of my heart had flowered open to an extraordinary opportunity. I entered into it with great delight – full of expectation.

Deeply committed, I seized the day and moved forward with a grateful heart.

About half way through, disruption and disillusionment wormed its way into the picture.

Here was a bitter pill to swallow. Even now discouragement, stuck in my throat, threatens to choke desire and devotion.

I’m grateful for a timely reminder  from Richard Rohr - a much needed check of the reality that there will sometimes be  a  situation in your life (which) will lead you to a place, an event, a relationship, a failing or falling apart of something wherein you can’t control life anymore and you can’t understand it.

I’m empty and depleted. If there is any hope of restoration and recovery, it’s on the far side of much processing.

The following prayer from my daily read – Common Prayer – A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals, by Shane Claiborne, et al, is my heart’s cry this day: 

    Lord, teach us to dwell in the corners and crevices, to find an abundance of your love in those     pockets of our lives where the poverty of our abilities crowds out our pride and ego. Amen

Lord, teach me. I want to learn.

I don’t see it yet - perhaps I never will. I have more questions than answers these days.  Seems I’m between a rock and a hard place.

 

So I wait. I wait for grace.  I wait.

And then, the stone was found to have been rolled away.

I’ll wait – expectant.  And full of hope…. Trusting the process and the Presence….

Meanwhile, grace will meet me there.

Swinging into Spring

I’m a calendar girl. By that I mean that if the calendar says that it’s spring, I believe that it’s spring. Never mind that the landscape here in Western Michigan still holds piles of snow.  I saw a robin the other day and the snow IS melting so I believe that the new season is here. There’s no denying it & I need for this winter to be over. So I do hereby declare that the winter of my discontent has come to an end.

It began in late fall actually when ill health crept in like a chilly draft.

I hunkered down thinking that here was a simple squall I could easily weather.

This too shall pass…but it took the wind out of my sails. When a wave of arctic air swept in from the frozen north, I was unprepared for the perfect storm of dis-ease and distress that followed in its wake. The nights got longer and the snow kept falling and falling and falling. Trapped inside a virtual snow globe I found myself isolated and desolate. As the weather allowed – between snow storms, blowing and drifting snow and ice storms - I was shuttled around from one specialist to another and from one facility to another for various tests and scans to try to discover the underlying cause of all this physical distress.

As the winter dragged on, depression began seeping through the windows and walls.

One thing led to another like some unending game of chutes and ladders through this difficult and disappointing winter.

Several times over the past few months I’ve given consideration to the phrase, the spirit is willing but the body is weak. I’ve missed out on so much - pure and simple, the physical energy simply was not there.  The need for self compassion and kindness in the face of so much suffering was great.

There were nights when the physical pain was so horrific the only thing that got me through was by taking one breath and then another. Lying on the floor with one hand on my belly and the other hand on my heart, I would simply breathe. One breath after another….  Gradually the pain would ease and there was calm in the midst of the storm.

At one point I came to the conclusion that my body had betrayed me. Anger and frustration with my plot planted seeds of discontent and threatened to undo me. Just recently, my spiritual director invited me to consider that perhaps there was another way to look at the ongoing discomfort that has spread mercurially. Might it be that my body is speaking wisdom to me? Perhaps it is time to listen to that wisdom and learn that somewhere there is a balance between the want to and the capacity to actually do.

It’s a fine line and I’ve pondered the flip side of this conundrum before..

Now I’m giving more consideration to the body, mind, soul connection and the reality of my body as a vehicle for my spirit self - as the temple.

As the long winter dragged on, I was on the lookout  for encouragement. 

I found some here as a  random quote attributed to Tina Fey at  GrowingBolder.com came across my radar.  “You can’t be that kid standing at the top of the water slide, overthinking it. You have to go down the chute,”  This gave me pause  - especially when a friend of mine responded – “I say, go down if it appeals to you, otherwise go find yourself a swing.”

Now that’s my kind of gal. I’m tired of the interminable game of chutes and ladders.

This calendar girl is ready to swing into spring.