Kol Yaweh

Lord,
I'm not really sure
What's going on
Between You and I
These past few weeks.
I feel trapped somewhere between
My desires and dreams
And trying to discern Yours.

This is all about Arizona;
It's like,
The voices shouting
About the move
Are drowning everything out,
Even You.
I feel restless and anxious,
Guilty at the thought
Of being so far from my family,
But also excited at the idea
Of a fresh start,
A new adventure.
There is an undertow
Pulling at me
Beneath all this...
"How do you know
That this is what God wills for you?"

Lord,
Is this Doubt that's
Insinuating itself,
Masquerading as
A genuine, spiritual check,
Or is it a check,
Put in place by the Holy Spirit,
Saying that this is not my path?
The strain of the not knowing
Is wearing on me spiritually,
Turning me cold inside.
I haven't been praying as much.
I haven't been reading every day
On the train.
I feel bottled up,
Seeking release,
Bound by many
Unnamed and half-formed
Misgivings and emotions.

On the day when Adalheid told me
About the pending move,
I asked You to speak to me
About the concerns I had.
I was worried about work,
And the loss of knowledge
Resulting from my leaving.
That very morning,
The Aussie commissioned me
To begin a manual
For the team.
I was worried about
Not knowing how to drive.
That night,
Before Godspell began,
My sister asked me if I wanted
To take driving lessons with her
In the new year.

Was it You speaking to me
Out of the tornado of my thoughts?

The situation with my family
Weighs heaviest on me.
I don't know how they will react
And the anticipation
Of the reaction
Is always what makes me collapse.
Half my battles have been lost
Before they were even begun
Because of fear of
Someone else's reaction.
It is true what Adalheid says:
I do feel guilty
About separating from my family,
But why do I feel like this?

When I moved out
At the age of twenty,
It was amidst much anger and resentment.
Through mutual consent,
The family and I
Broke off completely.
Although we eventually reconciled,
There is still that unspoken resentment there.

Yes,
I left home in pursuit of things
That I now recognize the impermanence of;
Some people need to learn
The hard way,
And I was one of those people
In that situation.
But my leaving home
Didnt change the course
Of my life only.
If I hadn't left home,
My sister wouldn't have met
Her fiancé.
For better or for worse,
Those two are stuck together for life.

Lord,
Was that, too, part of the plan,
The good coming out of
What was otherwise
A less-than-wonderful, semi-suicidal mission?

When David had Uriah killed,
And claimed Bathsheba
For his own,
You eventually made him see
The depths of his sin.
He was chastised,
And laid low,
But not for forever;
Out of that union,
Solomon was born.

When Joseph was imprisoned
For crimes he did not commit,
He held on to his faith
In You,
And was rewarded for his faithfulness
By bringing his family
Out of famine, and into Egypt.
His brothers had intended
To do him harm,
But You meant it for good.

So I guess
Whether we mess up,
Or messed up things
Are happening to us,
You mean it for good?
So even if my going to Arizona
Is not what You had intended,
You will bring good out of that?
Or does it not even matter
Where I am,
Because everywhere I can go,
There You will be?

Lord,
Still me
Long enough
So that I can hear
Your Voice
Speak to me
Out of the whirlwind.
Still me...
Still me.
I ache for
The calm, knowing Voice
I have heard before.
Speak to me, Lord,
Please.
A word from you
Can calm
The storms
That rage
Within me...

Hallelujah

There we stood,
In a courtroom in the
Theodore Roosevelt US Courthouse,
Surrounded by portraits of judges
And paintings of Pilgrims and Native Americans.
As we waited for the judge,
And I looked around
At the sea of faces
Waiting to be naturalized,
I couldn't help but smile.
My sister was sitting on a side bench,
Looking exhausted,
Showing every leg of
The four-year journey
That had brought her here.
I wondered what was going through her mind.
I wondered if she was wondering
If our parents were on hand
To witness the culmination
Of countless hours of
Emails and phone calls and research
And emotional turmoil that led us
To this moment.

Lord,
Creator of the Universe and
Sustainer of our lives,
I give you thanks and praise
For my sister,
Brought from afar
And grafted into the family
In the same manner as I.
We are different,
She and I,
But Your Hands
Crafted us both,
And I know that You
Joined us in the same family
For purposes only You know.

My Lord God,
You have worked,
And continue to work
Wondrous deeds in my life,
And the lives of those
Close to me.
Thank You for my family,
And for navigating us through
The really rough times.
Continue to guide and protect
Each of us
As we journey through our lives
And ultimately home to You.
Praise to You, Lord God,
For Your Lovingkindness,
For the Breath of Your Mercy
And Steadfast Love
That braces us against
The assaults of the Adversary.
Praise to You, Lord God,
For the unfolding of
The mysteries of our lives,
And the blessings you shower on us
Every day that we open our eyes.
What are we, that You
Even think about us?...
Yet I know that You are there,
Active, involved, moving
Through our lives.
May my life forever testify
To Your Presence,
And my lips ever sing
Songs of grateful praise!

Bittersweet

My sister and I inherited
Our family's summer home
Nestled in the green valley
Of Wurtsboro Hills.
The house has been used as a getaway
For many years.
During the winter months,
We close it down.
We antifreeze the pipes,
Turn off the heat,
And, like a bear, it hibernates,
Awaiting the return of spring.

We went up last weekend
To shut it down for the season.
I hadn't yet been up this year,
And had defended my reluctance
With a volley of commitments
And responsibilities
That needed tending to.
The truth, though, is that
I subconsciously avoid the house
Because when I enter
I journey through shadows.
I feel like a wraith,
Encountering the memories
Of people and places and times
That have crossed over.

I see my father's accordion,
And remember him playing
Roll Out the Barrel.
(I was the only five-year-old
Who could whip out a polka
With the best of them!)
I see my mother's Writer's Digests;
She was always talking about
Someday writing a book,
But someday never came
Soon enough for her.
I see my grandfather's instruments here,
Artifacts from a life
Lived and died
Before I was even born.
I hear my grandmother
Telling me stories about him -
About the night he was babysitting my mother,
And shot out the streetlights
With his shotgun
In order to amuse her.
My grandmother was a treasure trove
Of family stories;
Even now, I can see her
Sitting on the screen porch,
A cigarette in one hand,
And a cup of coffee in the other.
Pieces of our first home
Are here too,
Singed relics that somehow
Managed to survive
A three-alarm fire.

My sister has mentioned
That she might like to
Live there someday.
She will be able to layer
The memories of the house
With her own life
And all that it entails.

As for me...
It is too bittersweet.
There are too many parts
Joy and pain
That it brings
To the surface.

Lord,
You know and understand
The forces shaping
Both my sister's future
And mine.
Help us navigate
These months and years ahead.
Help us see and realize
Your plan for us,
However physically distant we are,
And however bittersweet
The memories and
The separation may be...

Ruth

But Ruth said, "Do not urge me to leave you or to return from following you. For where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there will I be buried. May the Lord do so to me and more also if anything but death parts me from you." And when Naomi saw that she was determined to go with her, she said no more. (Ruth 1:16-18)

Lord,
Yesterday did not begin
The way I thought it would.
Adalheid has told me,
For as long as she has known me,
That she and her family would someday
Be moving to Arizona.
We had spoken about
Me going with them
When that time came
As a reality
To be taken for granted.
"Someday," in my head,
Was in a number of years.

Someday has been accelerated
To within the next year.

Of course,
I had an internal, mini nervous breakdown
As the factions of my life
Began warring for dominance
In my head.
Family. Pets. Jobs. Apartment.
Church. Personal crusades.
The doubts and misgivings and petty thoughts
Cycloned in my mind
Until I thought I would explode.
I panicked, and the workday
Was a roller coaster ride
Of emotions
Better left alone.

After lunch,
I entertained daydreams
About the timbre and hue
My life would take on
If Adalheid and the king and the wandering momma
And Fifi and the parrots
Moved...
And I stayed behind.

The idea of that
Was far more than I could face.
Her home
Has become my home.
Her family
Has become my family.
How did all our lives
Become so entwined?

Lord,
Adalheid's presence
Stretches so far beyond
The usual bounds of friendship
That I cannot put it in words.
She is one of the graces
That You have blessed me with;
I am bound to her, Lord,
By a bond so strong and deep
That I tremble before it.
How could I,
In good conscience,
Ever willingly part from her?

Lord,
I am Yours
Before I am anyone else's.
I don't profess to know
What it is
That You have in store for me,
But You led me
To Adalheid and her family,
So I must take it on faith
That You, who knows all things,
And You, who makes all good things,
Are behind these plans.
I humbly ask for
Your Blessing
And Grace,
And Protection,
And Guidance
For all of us
In the months ahead.

Ah, Ruth,
My spiritual ancestor,
You chose faithfulness to Naomi
Over your own comfort and peace of mind.
For your steadfastness,
You were grafted into
The ancestry
Of the Messiah.

Father,
I am Ruth to Adalheid's Naomi.
She is precious to me,
Her and her whole family.
You are Love,
And you have given me
Her and her family
To love
And be loved by.
I will not be afraid
Of the course ahead
Because everything else
Is incidental...

Desert Flower

My Lord God,
Forgive me my sins
And restore my communion with You.
Hear me, Lord,
And help the one
I ask you to tonight.

The Desert Flower blooms
In anger and wrath;
Her petals shake violently
As strong storms batter her.
She grasps the earth
In a tenacious grip,
Hardened by many years
Of struggle and turmoil.
She is angry,
And bitter,
And alone
In her heart.
Her rages spill out of her
Like poison,
Infecting all who
Are caught in its wake.
Her thorns make others bleed;
She is ever on the defensive
Against evils and insults
Real and imagined.

Lord,
Months ago,
She told me
About her youth,
And I saw in an instant
The fount of grief,
The river of wormwood
From which her roots drank
At too tender an age.
I saw
How it had twisted her,
Marring the beauty of her petals,
Scarring too deep for mere words.

Lord,
Father,
You are the Creator of all things,
And You have promised
To restore the barren places.
All things are open before You:
Our hearts,
Our lives,
Our futures.
Father,
I beg You,
Begin the work
Of restoring your Desert Flower
In this life, right now.
Oh Lord,
Let her learn to seek
Deeper drinks
Within You.
Let a measure of
Living Water
Soften her hardness,
Quell her anger,
And teach her it's okay
To let down her guard.
Make her see
That her anger
Cannot forever protect her,
Nor can it save her.
Let Your Love
Burn like the sun,
Nourishing her leaves,
And causing vibrant petals,
Brighter than Solomon's array,
To burst forth.

Lord God,
You give graciously
And abundantly.
I ask You
To heal this Desert Flower,
So that she may see
The Truth and Beauty and Love
That is the Ultimate Reality
Of who You are,
And upon which
The whole Universe is built.
Touch her, Lord.
Heal her, Lord.
Restore her, Lord,
As You have promised to do
To the barren places...

The Undoing

In the first Garden,
Mankind fell.
Rather than
Heeding God's warning,
Adam and Eve chose
Themselves -
Their desires -
Their will -
Over God's.
In the full Light
Of God's Glory
They made this decision.
The consequences
Were disastrous.
Sin and
Death and
Decay
Were introduced
Into the world.
The ground was cursed
To bear thorns
Beneath Adam's touch.
The fugitives were forced
From Eden, barred by the
Cherubim and the Flaming Sword.
Adam and Eve lost communion
With El-Shaddai.
We have been reeling
From the aftershocks
Ever since.

But there is another Garden,
Holy ground where
The mystery of redemption
Began to undo
The damage we had done.
In Gethsemane,
Christ chose His Father's Work
At the expense of
His Own Life.
He wrestled with his desires,
And ultimately subjugated them
To the Will of the Father.
He saw the Big Picture:
The Father's Will...
The Father's Glory.
He knew that the only way
We had a chance
Of standing before God
Was though His Sacrifice.

The heritage of sin-death
Started unraveling that night
In the Garden of Gethsemane.
In the dark night of His Soul,
Facing the astonishing separation
From the Father,
Jesus Christ chose His Father
Over himself.
The decision to eat the apple
Was undone with the utterance
"Not my will, but thine, be done."
The ground that God had cursed
To bring forth thorns
Was redeemed by
The Crown of Thorns
On the Anointed's Head.
The Cross
On which He hung,
Accursed and cut off,
Was the means of becoming
The new Tree of Life.
He passed beneath the Flaming Sword.
The Veil of the Temple
Was torn in two,
A symbol of the Kingdom
Miraculously within arm's reach
For God's People.

We now live
Within that eternal Hope.
Eden's damage
Has been undone.
The world has already begun
The process of being reconciled
To The Almighty.

Everything else that happens moving forward?...

Eden and Gethsemane
Co-exist side-by-side.
Our journeys have become a matter
Of whichever Garden
We choose to stroll in...

Happy Ending...

Lord...
On Saturday,
I made a new friend
At the church Thrift Sale.
She was a delight
To work with.
Smart, witty, funny,
Pleasant - an overall pleasure.
She also happens to be
In her seventies.
Why, oh why, Lord,
Have I always been drawn to
And connected so well with
People so much older
Than I?

You and I know
It has been a constant
Since I was a child.
Although I have friends
Closer to myself in age,
All the friendships
That cut deep
Have been with people
Older than me.
We're not talking about
By a few years;
Usually,
It's by a few decades.

Does it all go back to
Mommie and Daddy
Who turned our home into
A variant Montessori school
With hands-on-everything learning
That accelerated my brain
From early on?
Can it be traced to
The family of my youth;
Five adults, and no other kids
In the house
Until I was six?
Does it stem from grammar school,
And the distrust I developed
For kids my own age
Who enjoyed torturing me?
Does it come from
Experiencing too much
Of life's heartaches
At too young an age?
Is it just me,
An old soul
Chronologically trapped
In the wrong era?

Lord,
You know why
I wrestle with this so.
You know how wearied I am
From burying people,
And how much I dread
The ones to come.
You know I fear
Someday finding myself
Alone.

It's not such a hard stretch
To imagine.
Last man standing,
Last candle blowing out
In the wind of
An emptied life.

Lord...

Lord?...

There is a pause
As I feel Holy Writ
Being breathed into me.

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God." *

Yes, I know, but -

"Why is there always a 'but'?"
(It is asked in the Aussie's voice,
And I have to laugh.)
"I know you.
I made you.
I take care of you.
Why do you worry
About what you cannot control?"

I can't help myself -

"You can.
You do not,
Because you still do not
Trust Me."

I don't answer.

"Your purpose and mission
Unfold daily.
Follow me,
ME,
Not the fears and misgivings
In your mind.
Your mind
Is still wrapped up in this world.
Your heart,
That sings songs to you
About Me -
Listen to what that is saying."

I still don't say anything.

He continues:
"You love the story.
The story of a human life.
The story of an historic building.
The story of an old nation.
The story of The Ancient of Days.
That's why you are drawn
To people and places and things
Older than you.
There are stories there,
Treasures waiting to be found
And released.
I made you thus.
Yes, it will mean suffering and loss,
But even that
Will be redeemed
In the End."

Suffering and loss.
Yeah, that.

"Look beyond that."

It's hard, God!
I'm a finite being, here!

"No..."
He doesn't say anything else.
Instead, He takes my hand,
And propels me through time,
And I see
The Beginning
And the Ending
And the Unending
That is the Undoing
Of all the tragedy, pain, and sorrow.
I am part of
This epic story,
All the way from my beginning
To my ending
That isn't really an ending,
But a different arc
Of a trajectory
That leads
To Him.
I am not alone.
I have never been,
Nor will I ever be.
It's okay
If I operate out of sync
And out of time
From everyone else.
It's okay
If people go home to Him
Ahead of me,
Because eventually,
We'll be together again.
It's okay,
The suffering
And the loss,
Because even that
Will ultimately be
Undone.

It's okay.

I'm okay.

So what if I'm
The last candle blowing out
In the wind of
An emptied life?
That's only this life,
This perishable, dying life,
And it cannot compare
To the one that someday comes...

* Philippians 4:6