For such a time as this

Prairie Storm

Storm over the prairie, April 2014

 

I have spent my life looking for meaning

purpose

value

hope that translates to a life worth living.

I have earnestly done my best
and failed
splendidly.

It is Easter morning.
My long-favorite holiday.
A day where suffering brings redemption
brokenness has a cause
and mystery serves up a sweet and savory
broken meal of bone and blood.

Today, I am fighting within to appreciate the joy
and celebration.

My heart quickened on this Tulsa-town back stoop
when I heard the low thud of Easter morning church bells
only to soon realize that it was Dogzilla’s tail thumping against the metal railing.
(Guess who just crashed-landed onto my computer? Izzy, aka Dogzilla)

This week, I was challenged by a New York Times’ article
on “What Suffering Does
specifically this: people who endure suffering are taken beneath the routines of life and find they are not who they believed themselves to be.”

Though I no longer see myself as “suffering”
I do know the depths of suffering due to
rape, abuse, deceit, poverty-due-to-betrayal, death, anomie, scandal, prolonged fear, failure, terrors in the night, and despair.

It is not just “the god I thought I loved” that I no longer “know”,
but the scrappy hopeful energizer-bunny Allie that I no longer recognize.

And perhaps that is a good thing
when all of our old
hard fought and won
assumptions…our vision of all we think we know –
are shattered
and we are forced to begin again.

Who hasn’t invested much into a project
a dance
a race
family
only to have it shattered
completely?
End stop.

Sometimes it’s just a giant dog
stepping onto the computer that erases all of the past work
or that black dog that hounds every move
or the certain bereaving outcome
to a day that started with such promise.

Our assumptions
are shattered.

This is universal.

And the people I love who celebrate this hopefulness
of Easter today
recall a great loss
shrouded in blood and mystery
that gave way to hope
and changed the world.

A brokenness that changed the world forever
Transforming the weary, prostituted, pimping, people-pleasing people
into the imperfect good
that joins with others to feed the hungry
clothe the poor
read to the blind
teach the not-yet-knowing.

In this not knowing whether my faith will resurrect or stay entombed
I still love the holiness
the trembling
and often merry hope
of those who believe
and live it out in spirit and truth.

To you – Betty, Crock, KTT, and so many more,
Thank you.
And here’s a little poem from the imperfect
ragamuffin, Rich.

The Love of God
There’s a wideness* in God’s mercy 
I cannot find in my own 
And He keeps His fire burning 
To melt this heart of stone 
Keeps me aching with a yearning 
Keeps me glad to have been caught 
In the reckless raging fury
That they call the love of God

Now I’ve seen no band of angels
But I’ve heard the soldiers’ songs
Love hangs over them like a banner
Love within them leads them on
To the battle on the journey
And it’s never gonna stop
Ever widening their mercies
And the fury of His love

Oh the love of God
And oh, the love of God
The love of God

Joy and sorrow are this ocean
And in their every ebb and flow
Now the Lord a door has opened
That all Hell could never close
Here I’m tested and made worthy
Tossed about but lifted up
In the reckless raging fury
That they call the love of God 

*I always read this “there’s a wildness in God’s mercy”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NITX93fvM0A

Could that be the North Star?

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About allielousch

Engaged in everyday adventures and derring do.
This entry was posted in There is a lot I don't know and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to For such a time as this

  1. Jutta Zelko says:

    Happy Easter,
    Your writings are so very fascinating.
    Jutta

  2. Crock says:

    I had a moment this morning – where I didn’t want to get out of bed…the weight of “the world” on my shoulders and in my heart. (in addition to the 2 dogs laying across my legs) Almost didn’t budge. Thought, I might skip church to sleep and escape it all. Of course I would get up to grab the Easter sugar cookies and crawl back in bed. And then a small quiet voice…said – I died and rose for you. Get out of bed! Bottom line – love you and your blog. Thanks for sharing.

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