Distraction. I can only imagine the hopscotch we are playing across the internet. I stop playing.
I keep my routine. I begin each day in my corner of the couch, Todd in his. We drink coffee. He reads the papers and keeps me informed. I want summaries of local, national, world news.
I want less of man’s mind. Empty cauldrons are all the more apparent. I want reservoirs of inspiration and hope. I want to read the poets. I read the Bible. The one who says this is irrelevant has not yet learned to sit still. With Him.
The cat steals my seat as soon I get up. She needs comfort too. Days are blurring together. I am hungry to understand, to be understood.
Peace. Has. Become. A rollercoaster. I am slipping into depression? I wake in the night with pain in my chest. I need soul feeding. Nurturing. I am hungry.
There is despair in the air and hours are spent resisting it. I fear I might be catching it. Until…I am still. With Him. There, in His Presence, fear flees. It’s here, I lose fear.
I know He is always watching, waiting for this stillness. But sometimes I have to just keep moving. Sometimes all I can do is keep moving. I return to hopscotch until I am exhausted. I stop. I turn it off.
He knows the thoughts I am struggling with, every need and every selfish desire, all the loneliness. All of it.
And He says, blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are those who mourn. Blessed are the meek and those who hunger and thirst…
This is where I connect. With the hungry and thirsty. I connect with those grieving. Loss, I don’t want to hide from. I want to connect with those who fear their next meal, their next drink.
How long, O Lord, did I feel full and satiated, indestructible and ageless and was without You?
I was fertile, beloved, full and overflowing with life. And then I lost the life I was carrying inside me. I lost my power, my strength. I lost the tiny heartbeat. Beating. With mine. And I gained primal grief.
What is greater grief to Him than the loss of a soul? We lose our life to gain soul life. Loss is not nameless. Every loss has a name.
So blessed are they that mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are those poor in spirit, who hunger and thirst, for they will be filled. We have never been poorer, hungrier, thirstier.
And blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are the pure in heart for they will see God. They will seek and gain His guiDANCE.
I Dance through grief. Acknowledging loss, opens up space for comfort, space for the Sacred to enter. Space for the Dance.
I am fighting the urge to be strong. I will lean into Him more. When I am weak, I am strong.* Comfort will not come through my coping but in opening. Up. To. Him.
Comfort will come through my lament: I am a desert. I am thirsty. I am hungry. I am poor in spirit. I am mourning. And it is here, in the desert, I will be blessed.
God be near us now. Offer us your guiDANCE. May we not deny our loss, but grieve and find GRACE. May we not be sarcastic and fearful, but be sacrificial and full.
We seek Your guiDANCE. We dance in Your light.
We can no longer hold hands. But You hold us.
May You be our Guide. May we learn to be still. And Dance. With You.
The Beatitudes: Matthew 5: 3-12, II Corinthians 12:10*