Visions and Dreams

This began on December 21, 2009:
I believe God speaks to us in many ways. I believe God is speaking to us all the time. We just have to open our ears and listen. We just have to open our eyes and see. This year, I have been transformed into a new being. I am not the woman I once was. She is...somewhere resting finally, all her wars with the world are over and she is happy. What remains is the beginning of the best part of who I am. That sounds a bit stuffy, perhaps...but I am so keenly aware of the fact that I see every encounter as a moment for celebration...and that is just not who I thought I was...that is surprises me every single time.
Each day I am glad to know that I have lived long enough to have this day. And this day is all I have, so I want to spend it well. I want to make the best memories I can with it, no matter what I am given.
I am thinking that all of this kind of connects to the events that happened some thirteen years ago. When my prayer life pretty much took on a life of its own. I mean instead of me praying a prayer, my prayer was praying me. I think that is an excellent way to describe it.
My prayer took on a life of its own and began to pray me. There is a helplessness and surrendering in this prayer. For how long did I cry out to God these words:
Search me Oh God
And know my heart
Test me and know my thoughts
See if there is any wicked way in me
And lead me in the way everlasting (Ps. 139)

And God would reveal to me my sins. And often I would become angry and afraid. "You can't possibly want me to give THAT up? I NEED it to survive!"
"I didn't do that, I was simply trying to....oh, crap...you are right again. I did do that. And I know why I did it. [other exclamations here are best left out]"

And then, back then I would end my prayers on one knee, like a knight in service to a great king...the greatest king. "I have come to do your will. Take me, make me, break me. I will stand watch with you. I will do the work. Always and forever." (I am certain I was much more flamboyant than that, but the general idea was that...each time I was blessed, I knew I was called to be a blessing to others. What is given cannot be kept. It must be passed on or it will die.)

I've been trying to go back at look over my humanity. The 2000 journal seemed to be a good snippet for analysis, the only partially filled one from Disney World was less satisfying, but still illuminating. It journals a youth trip I made with my son to Disneyworld in 1997. When I am alone, contentment reigns. But it looks pretty much like a typical youth trip, by the time the week has gone by, you want to get as far away as possible from the adults you have had to deal with for a week and maybe even a little distance between you and the kids feels really good, too. I, the constant observer, write about all the power plays and the patterns of behavior. The positioning for power, the expectation of power and the reality of working with people who just don't think like you.
It is so hard for us to get along sometimes.
When we are competitive, when we want to look good, when we think we deserve something, when we think we've earned respect, when we think we are smarter than everyone else in the room, we enter into conflict...especially being on a cramped bus for 10 hours at a time. We all bring in a whole lot more baggage than just the luggage we are carrying with us. And it all gets played out in cramped quarters.

What is truly cool is that we know that will happen and we do it anyway. Youth ministry is frustrating and rewarding. Youth choir is about the same times ten, because instead of the general angst of adolescence, you get the ego of adolescence. You go from "Nobody likes me here" to "Why do I have to sing with THEM?" It is all a big, exhausting mess...but a handful of people, who understand that "love thy neighbor" thing, dive in, get dirty and worn out and a few weeks out from the event, know in their hearts they did the right thing. A few, of course, will take ten years to forgive so and so for spilling Coke on their curlers, but hey, they tried. They stepped out. Some of us just sit and wait.

What has that got to do with prayer? Well, my HP spiritual director told me, after hearing one of my stories of my continuing adventures with God: "Ecstasy...and then the laundry."

Right now, I am on a kind of honeymoon with God. Right now, my eyes can only see one thing, even when I am looking at something else. Right now, I can only feel one thing, one "person," so to speak. Everything I think, do, feel, say, touch, smell...seems to be completely absorbed in my connection with God right now.

I am painfully aware of anything that pulls me away from the "closest place" next to, or inside, God. I don't want to walk 'over there.' I don't want to 'step out.' I just want to sit at Jesus' feet and listen. But Martha is calling and the laundry is waiting. It won't get done on its own.
But I am aware I must be very careful and respect the journey I have chosen. Thursday night, I felt I was too tired to be helpful when I was needed. Last night, I had a couple of glasses of wine and when God placed me in a sacred moment with someone in need, I feel I was not grace-filled. I spoke too quickly. I didn't listen. New lesson: one glass is enough. But I can't go back to that moment and re-do it. But maybe that's all God intended for me to do, just let someone know she wasn't alone. Sometimes that's all we need.
I feel like I'm standing still when I should be running. And I feel like I'm running when I should be standing still. I feel filled with potential energy and I'm seeking the lightning rod where I can release it...into some wonderful project that helps heal wounded souls. Some kind of resting place where living waters abide. I have to find that place and then give it to the world.

At some point, I'll have to get back on the plane that takes me home again, back to reality. For now, though, it's a fire on the beach and riding waves from dawn to dusk. The laundry waits. I'll keep close to the Light while I still have it. Seems like the right thing to do.

Love,
Cindy