Stories Still Written
Some mornings are harder than others. Am I right? Today was a morning when, shortly after the first moments of consciousness, apprehension flooded my heart and mind. Nothing in particular. Can’t determine a trigger. But there was this general sense of….dread. Like when you are faced with a task you disdain. But the task is literally and simply being awake, alive and facing the day. This sounds ominous and dark. Dread hits like that.
I pushed it back or down and with my first relished cup of coffee, went to my favorite Good Will chair, where I meet with myself and my Maker in reflection and relationship. My reflection however was accompanied by a slight choking, as if holding back tears when you don’t want anyone to see you cry. Here with swallows of hot coffee, breathing deep breaths of the morning, and attempting the first unspoken words of prayer, the dread took more of a shape. The shape was failure. Failure is the word. Failure is the emotion. Failure is the thought. Failure, regret, doubt, and fear are comfortable bedfellows. They are chums. When one crashes a party, they all show up. They link sinister arms and plow you over. I am not a young women. And Life has taught me a great deal. Yet it does take me by surprise that these things I have described can, in only moments, try to reestablish a stronghold in my mind and heart.
Maybe I am not the only one that woke up this way. Today, so many of us are living in literal isolation. We want normal back, but are faced with the fact that normal is gone and the new normal isn’t yet defined.
Today I felt a sense of failure that I should have been better prepared for this crisis. I wasn’t prepared financially. I wasn’t prepared emotionally. I wasn’t prepared for the disruption. There are 100 levels in which I wasn’t prepared. I look back over the past month and I feel like I failed to be creative in planning for my children’s time or wise in responding to their questions. I feel like I have failed to adequately respond to loss and grief. I failed to understand what I needed to accomplish let alone actually accomplishing it. I feel like I have watched too much Netflix and not done enough home improvement. I failed to choose Truth over TikTok…social media over serious contemplation. Ok that part seems trivial.. Many are dealing with the loss of loved ones to this virus or the loss of a job. We are all facing uncertain weeks and months ahead. And today it just feels like I am not handling any of it well.
Time. This really is the crux of it. I have wasted time my whole life it seems. And when it is gone. It is gone. For much of life you feel there’s time to spare…time to change…time to live, laugh, and love…time to play with your babies….time to lose weight and get into shape (easily)…time to see the world….time to write the book….time to reconnect with old friends….time to make new ones. But then there is a day and it takes you by surprise, that you realize there is no time to spare. Now, time/life has not only been interrupted but changed. We are in a defining moment in our culture, our nation, our world. And for some reason this morning I felt the weight of the world on my failing shoulders.
But in that moment. That moment of weak poorly articulated prayer. A prayer that was more like a cry from my gut, an exhale of every part of me that failure, regret, doubt, and fear had attached itself to. A prayer that was like a desperate glance toward Love and Hope and Wisdom and Time itself. In that moment, Love, Wisdom, Spirit gave me an image. It was a snapshot in my mind of my daughter reading a book in our back yard. It wasn’t an imagined image. It wasn’t a desired image. Or a conjured image. It was real life. It was my life. It was a real moment in time from a few days ago. We were in our backyard. Enjoying fresh air and sunshine. Just sitting. And I was watching. Watching Elizabeth read Little Women. She was enthralled. The expressions on her face changed with each completed sentence and paragraph. Her lips curled up into a smile and then a little laugh as if she was part of the conversation she was reading. Her smile changed into a smirk and her eyes widen as if being told a secret she couldn’t tell. She was, as I have been so many times, caught up in a great book. Her hands would grip the book and turn the pages with a tenderness as if she were holding a friend’s hand. She was captivated by the story and the characters. I was captivated by her. And the truth is whether she is being delightful and brilliant or whether she is being difficult and negligent. I will still delight and be captivated by her. She’s mine.
I am no failure. I reject the regret, and am empowered by all that Life has and continues to teach me, even through the brokenness. I exchange doubt for Faith. I take captive fear and embrace Love that sets me free. There a so many moments like I have described – Watching, loving, and engaging my children; Laughing, crying, or sitting silently with kindred friends; Setting memorial stones with my siblings as we recount our deep roots and God’s faithfulness.
Yes, In that moment, Jesus tenderly enveloped me, right there in my Good Will chair. And I was reminded that He is captivated by me. He is merciful toward me. His steadfast love never ceases. His mercies are new every morning. And He is not finished with me yet. My story continues to be written.
And so does yours, even in these uncertain days - even if the chapter you are in is one of loss and grief. That is not the end of the story. Beauty for ashes. A display of His splendor. Rebuilt. Restored.
Isaiah 61:1-3
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,[a]
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
for the display of his splendor.