life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “Grieving”

miles to go

IMG_1688.JPG
We are always on a journey from darkness into light. At first, we are children of the darkness. Your body and your face were formed first in the kind darkness of your mother’s womb. Your birth was a first journey from darkness into light. All your life, your mind lives within the darkness of your body. Every thought that you have is a flint moment, a spark of light from your inner darkness. The miracle of thought is its presence in the night side of your soul; the brilliance of thought is born in darkness. Each day is a journey. We come out of the night into the day. All creativity awakens at this primal threshold where light and darkness test each other. You only discover balance in your life when you learn to trust the flow of this ancient rhythm.
– John O’Donohue

IMG_1689.JPG

IMG_1690.JPG

IMG_1691.JPG

IMG_1692.JPG

IMG_1693.JPG

IMG_1694.JPG

IMG_1695.JPG

IMG_1696.JPG

IMG_1697.JPG

IMG_1698.JPG

vulnerability always reveals new layers and levels of grieving, then healing

20140615-125758-46678418.jpg

leaving Egypt

20140518-110037.jpg

Passover
~ Lynn Ungar

Then you shall take some of the blood, and put it on the door posts and the lintels of the houses . . .
and when I see the blood, I shall pass over you, and no plague shall fall upon you to destroy you, when I smite the land of Egypt.
-Exodus 12: 7; 13

They thought they were safe
that spring night; when they daubed
the doorways with sacrificial blood.
To be sure, the angel of death
passed them over, but for what?

Forty years in the desert
without a home, without a bed,
following new laws to an unknown land.
Easier to have died in Egypt
or stayed there a slave, pretending
there was safety in the old familiar.

But the promise, from those first
naked days outside the garden,
is that there is no safety,
only the terrible blessing
of the journey. You were born
through a doorway marked in blood.
We are, all of us, passed over,
brushed in the night by terrible wings.

Ask that fierce presence,
whose imagination you hold.
God did not promise that we shall live,
but that we might, at last, glimpse the stars,
brilliant in the desert sky.

20140518-110227.jpg

tasting ashes

I sit with the ghost of ashes
on my forehead
still raw and sore
feeling the sting and exhaustion
that comes from vulnerability
in the face of possible rejection.
I feel rejected, judged.
I feel unworthy,
even as I know I don’t need to be
I felt under dressed,
one of my hardest, most shame-filled, pettiest horrors in life.
Vanity is always my snake in the grass.
I feel judged as less than,
even though I do not know that for sure.
Yet, I feel it is true.
I feel broken,
crushed,
I sit in the ash heap of my life,
reflected in the broken story I have to tell.
my truth –
it’s so ugly
so jagged
how can it ever be redeemed?
how can I possibly be arrogant enough to think that God will use me,
even bless me?
Because He already has.
Because He sees me through Christ
Because the truth is, I am loved and he is making beauty right in these ashes
even this moment.
If I have ever believed that for sure –
then this is the time to truly believe it.
No matter the judgement of anyone.
No matter the temptation which these feelings bring.
yes, this is the temptation of satan –
to tempt me to feel unworthy and less than,
like I don’t belong,
like I can’t make new choices,
so that I turn away and give up.
So I do not risk this feeling
by just not telling my truth,
but just dress well and always ‘fit in’.
So that I just begin taking my life in my own hands and making something happen for myself,
as I am tempted to do each moment.
I want to heap the ashes on my head,
sit in them
and rip my already hole-y sweat pants even more.
I want to wail – instead of this civilized way of crying with tissues catching my overactive sinus production.
I want to run far away and lie on a beach.
I want someone to tell me I’m pretty,
I’m the victim,
Life’s unfair.
Yes, I am tasting ashes for lent.
Today, I am very aware of my inefficiencies.
I bow with humility.
I bow in gratitude.
I have nothing in myself.
Yet! (there is hope!!!)
The only thing that I truly need to know is that God’s mercy is new for me today!
My next choice is the only one that matters!
In Christ I stand!!!
Thank God
I already know!
Easter is coming!!

AL 3/6/14

20140306-101151.jpg

look at the stars. how they shine for you.

20140118-010115.jpg

Strange to realize
on our very worst day of life
someone else is having their very best.
Every death
is countered with birth.
Every grieving tear
with belly laughter.
Our weakest moments
are also our strongest.
Our greatest challenge of faith or doubt
is when true faith is finally began.
The deepest mysteries come clear
as we accept what we don’t know.
On the night we see the stars fall
the sun is rising on the other side of the world.
The human spirit cannot be conquered
we rise from ashes again with each burning.
Tides come in
as tides go out.
With every broken heart
there is an answering new moment of love.
For every first kiss
a final slamming of the door –
figuratively or literally.
For every threshold we cross
we must cross again in a new moment.
We each have moments of glory
moments of defeat.
Worry is the paper tiger
which strips our moments of joy.
Illusions of control hide behind our eyes
always revealed to be a waste of our precious resources.
There is a time for every season.
In all we are to bring the sacrifice of praise.
It is the amazing hat-trick to the healing of our wounds
that in every single circumstance
we stand in the truth of that moment
and we give thanks.

AL 1/18/14

20140118-010056.jpg

Having faith on a starless night will lead us to the place where the morning star is born.

I part the out thrusting branches
And come in beneath the blessed and the blessing trees.
Though I am silent
There is singing around me.
Though I am dark
There is vision around me.
Though I am heavy
There is flight around me.
– Wendell Berry
—-

I am heavy
Stepping with sand bag feet
Slow
Hello life
In this dark day
I look for beauty
It’s always there
I wonder if I would have jumped or gone back to die
If I had really known how hard it would be
On and on
Do I really believe it will ever get better?
No answer comes
I move away from the question
I made my choice
I go curl up
In the Legacy Garden
On the round plaque with Wendell Berry’s words of understanding
Underneath the gondola’s painted ever-green leaves
– There should be a raven
Who cares if someone sees me?

AL 12/3/12

A year
It’s been a year since that day
When I ran out of light,
ran out of being able to choose.
I arrived inside the pitch black –
The dark night of the soul,
as I have read it called since.
That day I lay on Wendell Berry’s words,
unable to see, or seek, hope,
I surrendered –
Into Thy hands I commit my spirit.
The words branded themselves on my soul.
A few months later I found more words from Wendall Berry about darkness. (See graphic below)
I cried and grieved,
absorbed huge, long-standing grief-icebergs.
I have thought, and sought,
to understand the events of that day
for the past year –
It has definitely change the chemistry,
even the very shape of my soul.
The easiest, yet still complicated, way to describe it is,
That day the seed went into the ground –
and died.

As I cross the year mark,
I do feel a few young sprouts of new life.
Green tender life
stirring,
beginning to push through towards sunlight.
Very young and shy.
The old husk still sits under 12 inches of dirt
Dead
Split open
Burned to ash
composting back into the soil
Some days the wind blows in the wrong direction
and the smell can be overwhelming.
That day, a year ago now,
God picked me up
and placed me tenderly in His boat.
(Yes, God was there.
As well as angels
and screaming demons)
There I remain –
and will.
Unless I am called out,
by Jesus,
to walk on the water
with him by my side.
I am His alone.
Now I truly understand the words
Of Paul the Apostle,
For me to live is Christ
to die is gain.

AL 12/03/13

20131203-063137.jpg

In the beginning…the earth was a formless void
and darkness covered the face of the deep.
God breathed deeply over the face of the waters.
Then God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light.
—Genesis 1.1-3

By the tender mercies of our God,
the dawn will rise upon us from above,
to give light to those who dwell in darkness and in the shadow of death,
and to guide our feet into the ways of peace.
— Luke 1.78-79

It is now the moment for you to wake from sleep.
For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers;
the night is far gone, the day is near.
Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.
— Romans 13.11-12

In the darkness, in the chaos, God whispers.
The light of new creation rises slowly.
The dawn of a new world blossoms, rising silently
throughout the universe, and within you.
Your soul is the color of the sky before the dawn.
God is coming in a new way.
Open yourself.
Let the light unfold in you.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
http://www.unfoldinglight.net

Today is a new day. I will rejoice and be glad I am still here.

it takes great courage to believe in goodness…be courageous

And I peel squash and there is God and yada, yada, yada.

And yadah, it’s Hebrew, and it literally means to hold out the hand in four ways:

1. to bemoan with this wringing of hands.

2. or to revere with an extending of hands.661854f0c813af23756f1f9bc8d60dd3

And this too on the page of the Strong’s Concordance:

3. Yadah means to confess.

4. Yadah means to give thanks.

Yadah –   the whisper of Psalms 92:1: It is a good thing to [yada] — give thanks – and sing praises to unto thy name, O most High.

And in the midst of genocides and suicides, the divorce and disease, the death and dark, we understand the yada all around us,  the holding up of fists at God instead of extending the hand in thanks and we empathize with the unbeliever’s confusion, because it’s our own confusion, and in this struggle to be grateful to God for always and for everything, we pray with humble earnestness for the unbeliever: because before a Good God haven’t we all been been momentary unbelievers?

Vol-195-231x300And yet there it is, and you hear it now, at the cusp of the feasting, the yada, yada, yada, that sings relentless and bold:

We won’t stop confessing He is good and we won’t stop thanking Him for grace and we won’t stop holding out our hands — and taking His hand. We won’t stop believing that “God is good” is not some trite quip for the good days but a radical defiant cry for the terrible days.

That “God is good” is not a stale one-liner when all’s  happy but a saving lifeline when all’s hard.

And we will keep giving thanks, yada, yada, yada, because giving thanks is only this: making the canyon of pain into a megaphone to proclaim the ultimate goodness of God.

And every time I give thanks, I confess to the universe the goodness of God.

Thanksgiving in all things accepts the deep mystery of God through everything.

– Ann Voskamp
Read full blog and sign up for these beautiful, life changing, reflections.   www.aholyexperience.com

 

 

seasons

Walking among trees being stripped,136040026385c5a03b2b2e432c34f77e
the graveyard of colors at my feet,

branches above slowly being robbed,
air chilling, reaching farther into me,

I can’t shake the gentle dread
that something more will be required,

something taken, or outgrown,
requiring a reckoning of grief,

no loss God wants to save me from,
no turning that I want to miss,

a coming free that will not feel like such,
a birth resembling autumn’s lovely death.

I know no other passage through these woods.
0ece9c124b074afeb94168e1d0a3bae2The small path reaches out to me.

I feel my breathing, steady, slow and small.
The forest turns around me as I go.

Mist rises from the farm field to the west,
that slowly fills with yellow morning light.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

but for now…

3

healing the child

As he approached the gate of the town, a man who had died was being carried out. He was his mother’s only son, and she was a widow; and with her was a large crowd from the town. When the Lord saw her, he had compassion for her and said to her, “Do not weep.” Then he came forward and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still. And he said, “Young man, I say to you, rise!” The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother.
—Luke 7.12-15

She had lost a child— that most hollowing grief. He was her only son, her only way to pass on what she meant to the world. She was a widow, sorrow already having come and made a home with her. She was now without family, without a way to survive in the world. Though a stranger to her, Jesus, the Compassionate One, felt her anguish with her.

There is something fundamental to who we are, a part of us we believe we can’t live without, why it is that we are alive, what it is that we have been given to give to the world, how we shall go on— it is the child within us, the offspring of our heart, the self we hope to be. And sometimes it seems that it’s taken from us. To some degree maybe we all are grieving the loss of the Child, the hope of our souls, the Love of our Life.

But the Child, our hope, our Beloved whom we have lost, God restores to us. This story of Jesus copies the story of Elijah raising the widow’s son (in 1 Kings 17), ending with the same words: “He gave him to his mother.” When our inner Beloved, our heart’s Child, has been taken from us, the Compassionate One touches our grief, stretches out upon our sorrow, and restores to us the Love we had lost. God’s work is to renew, to restore, to return life to us.

And to return us to life. For we are really the ones who are revived. We ourselves are God’s Beloved Child, who have in ways died, lost our life. There is, as the Elijah story says, “no breath left” in us. And God restores us to life. It often takes a long time. But we are brought back to life. It is a gift, a miracle. And the Healer will give us to our Mother.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
http://www.unfoldinglight.net

20130605-102713.jpg

Post Navigation