Limestone and dirt

Super-moon has come and gone
I wonder if I'll stop writing.
My prayer life is only a shadow of what it once was.
Riding my bike almost daily, I am reconnecting to memories
and feelings I had forgotten.
The smell of wet limestone and fresh cut grass
and the air-conditioning inside a strange church
The smell of sterling silver jewelry
or was it the cleaner?
Has my prayer life stopped, or is is simply reforming itself
to the reclamation of old ways.
The body
50 years old
isn't always pleased with the way I'm treating it now
But it was not happy with the way I was treated it before
either.
Joints hurt, fingers stick,
even alone, I do not want to appear physically weak
And I have this strong desire to push myself
Beyond my limits
Beyond what I think I can handle.
Life is just too short
To do what other people
Think you should do.
I've lived in a bohemian manner
off and on...always rebelling
against...
what was it?
I always called it illogical, but really
it was more of a violation
of my spirit...
Saw a photo of a man
I once knew...and remembered
what I had done
all because I felt I was not treated fairly
with something he was only remotely connected to
How does one actually atone for sins
so outrageous?  When you didn't even know
you were doing wrong, you were just so angry...
I look at that angry child that lived inside me
The one who took it all, because she didn't know how
to not take it all...until she became as dark as the people who
hurt her.
These sins, these are the reason we hold fast to the story
of a man, who was more than man
better than man...
who dared to say,
even to me,
"I love you anyway."

So today...this present time...I ride my bike.
And remember so clearly
not all that lives is dark
A bit more
each day
I forgive
myself.

I ride my bike
Remembering that
often blessings are mixed
into the light and the dark
of who we are
Digging in the dirt with the priest
who gently said,
"No, you're doing it wrong"
as I was pulling vegetables.
He showed  me how to
harvest the best parts
of the plants.
Even then,
they were covered with mud...
and they took
a long time
of washing
to finally be clean enough to eat.

I ride my bike
growing stronger each day
Pushing myself just a bit farther
Not thinking so much
about how good
or how bad I was
back then.
In riding, I am learning how
to harvest myself
from the person I was hiding in the ground
taking with me the best parts
and then washing myself
of the dirt that might
still weigh me down.
^^^^^^^^^
Notes from last week:
^^^^^^^^^^^
God says to me, you have not forgiven enough. You have not forgiven yourself.
Seriously, Lord?
Yes, Cindy. Seriously.
My friend told me her story. She said God told her, You have to love them.
Why couldn't God say that to me?
Why couldn't He say, Love them?
Why did He say, Forgive them?

And I knew and didn't know. You can't love without forgiving. And you cannot forgive without loving. 
The priest at a Mass this week said forgiveness is not a feeling. It is an action. An act of free will.  We will all have feelings that we don't know what to do with, and feelings that will change in time; but forgiveness is a choice...and loving is a choice.  I think "in love" is not a choice, it just happened to us...but to love, in spite of, or because of, being "in love"...that is possible.  We really don't have good words for all these things...

So forgiveness is heavy on my heart...in every form: I need to forgive...and I certainly need to be forgiven.  It's all so complicated. I think I'm done with it...and I'm still there...in the grip of the devil of unforgiveness. I am caught not just in what things I have no power over, but also in the things I can choose to do or undo.  I wonder when the story-telling will end. I wonder when the hurt feelings will go away. I wonder when (even if) I can love in that way that so many people take for granted. 

God of mercy
God of love
You are always
What I'm dreaming of
Waiting in the doorway blind
Can't ever leave the past behind
Wonder if you wouldn't mind
Holding my hand again?

Hold my hand.

Love, cindy