Saying Farewell

It is with deep sadness that I share this photo of our sweet Camille (the beautiful black cat with brown undertones) playing outside.  She, in this picture, was pouncing on a leaf that had just fallen from the trees behind our apartment.  She has been enthralled with the outdoors this year as she has spent the majority of her life as an indoor-exclusive cat.  We were happy to finally have found a place where the cats could come outside with us in the evening hours after work.

This morning when we woke up, we found Camille lying on the floor having trouble breathing. She was having a heart attack, as we found out from our vet a short time later. Camille took her last breath at 9:10 this morning. She died in my arms being showered with love. We brought her home to say our farewells and let Spokes smell her and say goodbye to her younger sister.

Through tears, I painted the kitty coffin our vet had given us. Camille was wrapped in a snugly blanket, hugged and kissed. We placed her favorite toy - our feather duster - in the little coffin with her. Then we buried her in the nature area behind our apartment. She spent countless hours observing the birds and ducks playing there from her window perch. Now she will rest with her nature friends.

Camille has been our baby for most of our married life. Next month would have marked her tenth birthday. She will be missed terribly.

Beloved kitten, may light perpetual shine upon you. May you be found pouncing in green pastures and climbing tall trees without fear. May our Beloved Creator stroke your soft fur and hold you close until we meet again. 

Navigating the Waters

Beloved,

I've had some rough days as of late, several that I have struggled to write about in my private journal, let alone to distill and record here on this prayer blog.  My spirit and my body have been tied up in knots.  You and I have been striving, it seems.  And I have been loosing my perspective on the world, getting caught up in the stormy seas of the newscasts, the dark stories from friends and relatives, the hardships faced by many whom I deeply care for, and now have received some difficult-to-digest words.  Trying to write about it all makes me tired.  I am very tired...

My nanny family is down to one income.  They are hoping to return to two soon, but as a courtesy to me, they have let me know that I may need to begin seeking other options, just in case.  With my husband already without a steady source of income, (though You have certainly provided through odd jobs and caring for family members in these last few months) this news makes us very nervous indeed.

I confess, Beloved, that You have always provided for me and for us.  I also confess, Beloved, that I still struggle to trust that Your provision will continue.  It has very little to do with you, and very much to do with the unpredictability of the people and the world around me.  I have experienced rough waters along the river of life and have learned that many people are not trustworthy, and so, this dis-trust enters into my relationship with You, not because You have shown Yourself to be untrustworthy, but because I have a defense mechanism up (that You know very well) and I want to protect my spirit from the harm of disappointment...

Beloved, thank You for understanding.  Thank You for comforting me through the snuggles and purrs of my kitties this evening.  Thank You for my beloved husband holding my hand.  Thank You for holding me through his arms.  Thank You for smoothing the rough waters.

The Calling of Your Light

Beloved ~

The sun is shining brightly today, something it hasn't done in months.  Week after week, the dark clouds have hovered, threatening rain, reflecting the heaviness and teariness within me.  Today, though the clouds have parted; gentle breezes have carried them away, perhaps to some weary land desperately in need of moisture and shade.

Although the clouds have parted, my weariness remains...

Photo by Trista Wynne

A branch blocks the light, keeping our bedroom from being filled with the sunshine.  I'm tempted to run outside with a hacksaw or to break it off by hand.

My soul needs the light.  My eyes need the light.  My body, my heart, my mind need Your Light.

The light remains outside.  The sunshine's rays are filtered by the tree branches, only partially reaching my eyes.  And yet, even in this half-light, I am being comforted.  I find a smile beginning to tug at the corners of my mouth and my lungs filling a little deeper with Your Spirit.

Searching for My Reflection in Your Eyes

Earlier today I spent a good deal of time with dear friends from college.  Our conversations were incredibly fruitful!  Among other very important things, we wondered together about the origins of my numerous food sensitivities.

My soul-sister wonders how many of my food issues may be a way of my body punishing itself for not living up to certain expectations, (both perceived and real).  Although there have been a number of benefits to changing my diet (including increasing the amount of natural and whole foods in my system) there are enough foods that cause my body trauma for us to wonder if there is an emotional link.

How many of my recent ailments have something to do with shame or guilt?  I'm not yet sure how to identify and/or combat it if there is that link.  But it does inspire a prayer...

Beloved,

I have a great deal yet to learn about myself.  I have much to learn about (and much to experience of) Your love.  I desire to see You looking at me.  I want to watch Your eyes as I take of my clothing and let You look at me.  I want to feel the heat of passion and compassion as You draw near, as you caress and as You love me.

Photo by Trista Wynne

No one and nothing else can fill this desire.  It is for You alone.  You are my Beloved.

Yesterday, through conversations with another prayer-sister, You helped me to see how guilty or ashamed I feel for "not measuring up".  Right now I feel completely inadequate -- as a wife, as a daughter, as a lover, as a friend, as a minister, as a spiritual leader and as a nanny.  Overall, as a person, I feel that I have failed.

You alone can make me whole. I'm looking for my reflection in Your eyes.

I feel guilty for having been born into a society that oppresses and enslaves other nations to do our bidding.  I feel guilty for living when my food, electronics and clothing are grown or created with the spilled blood of my fellow human beings.  The problems, the sin, is societal.  I feel powerless to stop it...

You alone cane make the world whole.  Help us see our reflection in Your eyes.

Amen.

Sitting on the Shore: Preparing for Retreat Time

"Sitting in the Sand" - Photo by Trista Wynne

This weekend I will be heading to the beach for a personal retreat: just me, the waves, a little cottage and my God.  The labels give you an idea of what the last few months have been like as I've donned the cap and gown of seminary studies, (wrapping up the final quarter this summer -- halfway through today) pondered the last ten years, (I've been married for a decade now) thought about whether or not to move back near or into our childhood town, been wrestling with a change of direction in my calling, figuring out how best to support aging parents, and pondering a whole host of other topics.  Wondering what is in store for, I simply record a little prayer before returning to my packing.  I wonder what this weekend will reveal...


Beloved,

It's been a little while since I've felt your presence in a palpable way.  I see glimpses of You in the faces and actions of the dear ones at my internship site, and Your love and grace are evident in this place.  And yet, it seems that You and I have been separated for a time.

Questions and chaos about the present and future seem to swirl around me.  Have I gone into hiding on account of the storm?  Are You in the midst of it?  Have You  been listening?  Have I been talking to You?  Have I been listening?

The winds and debris are swirling so wildly.  Questions of "helpful" people wanting me to land on a direction pummel me like tsunami waves.  I have enough doubts to make Your Thomas look like one who never questioned.

Walking the Way

Oh Lord,

I can't sleep tonight.  I'm angry!  I'm angry that I can't find a place to land in the Church.  I'm angry that I'm feeling alone, and that so many people are arguing with one another over whose Church it really is.  The details are in my journal this evening, but there are areas in the churches around me that are making me hurt, and because I feel hurt I write in anger.  It's not directed at anyone but You, because You are the only one that can handle the depth of my emotions. 

*sigh*

Lord, please, give Your Church guidance, vision and inspiration.  We are so lost.  People around here don't know You because we in the Church are so focused on digging our heels into the ground and fighting one another.  We use manipulative techniques to try and deprive each other of power.  We don't recognize any denominations except our own.  We can't even seem to reconcile differences within our own congregations.

Oh Lord, have mercy!

Ah, Lord, I feel like my ministerial visioning is a bit like the weather in Seattle.  I get a glimpse of hope, sunshine and clarity, and then the rainclouds of reality come and separate me from the vision for a while.  The vision always comes back, and I know it's there in the distance, but there are days that are darker than others, and there are times when the clouds are simply very, very heavy.

Today is one of those days, Beloved.

I'm glad that You are with me today.  I'm glad that You walk me through the dark valley when I'm there, and that You allow me to wrestle with You when I'm angry with Your peoples.  Forgive me for the times that I take my anger out on them instead of You.  Help me to be more creative with my interactions, and to use my imagination to heal where woundedness is clearly evident.

Lord, help us to reconcile with one another.  Help Your peoples to aim for unity.  I know that we miss the mark; that's why You came, Lord Jesus.  With Your help, Beloved, we can improve our aim.  In time, our practice of faith will become healthier in Your hands.  One day we will be right on target, and walking the Way which You have given to us.

I hope that day comes soon.

Show me, Sophia-Spirit, what I can do to help the world draw closer to our Beloved.  I desire to work with You, not against You.  Help me to see through Your eyes.  Amen.

Battling the Beloved: How my Heart is won back when I Turn Away

Hello Beloved,

Much is on my mind, not for worries, but mostly for contemplation. At the forefront, though, is the sermon preached by our dear friend and pastor in Beaverton, where we found ourselves beginning Spring Break this weekend. The sermon on trust, the songs about being clay in Your hands, and their combined calling to release ourselves into Your arms for Your purposes – these are the images on my mind this evening.

Towards the beginning of the service, when the song entitled “The Potter’s Hand” was being sung, I found myself unable to join in the singing. This was odd since it is a favorite song of mine, but my spirit was heavy and I was grieved over the lack of connections and deep friendships in our lives since we followed Your call to move up here to the Seattle area. I didn’t feel particularly willing to become just anything or anyone at that moment in time. You know, Beloved, how I sometimes battle with You in spirit. Thankfully, Your Spirit is kind and compassionate, and gently worked throughout the rest of the service to remind me how much I am valued and loved even by that dear community which is several hours away from us.

"Softness of the Beloved" - Photo by Trista Wynne

The prayers of the people, the sermon, the strong embrace of our dearly loved minister of music, and lengthy hugs from the children (now teenagers) whom I used to nanny for – these all worked together to soften my heart. By the time we were invited to Your table, I was able to let go of the false pretense of control over my life. I simply acknowledge that in this part of the journey, my life and the life of my husband are truly in Your hands. I want to trust You; Lord, please help my lack of trust.

The Way of the Beloved: Journeying through Lent - 1st Sunday 2011

Tonight at Frankincense we read from Genesis, the story of the time when humanity chose a way that was different from the path You laid out. An alternate ending was presented from Rabbi Kushner, one in which there was no decision to turn away. There was simply Eden.

In his alternate ending, there was no extreme sorrow, but pleasure was also lacking. With every need met and no experience of pain or suffering, I wonder if we would ever have grown to love You. Would we have grown to love one another? Would we love ourselves?

What would this life look like if there was no sin or separation or hiding between us? Or are any of these things actually here now? Sin is supposedly the separation from You, but Beloved, is there a place in existence where You are not? The psalmist would contend, and the prophets agree, that such a place does not exist. So what then is sin? Julian says it is of no substance at all. If separation is the definition, then I think she is right, for wherever we travel, You, Beloved, are with us.

"Lenten Feet" - Photo by Trista Wynne

This brings me back to the Genesis passage. What really happened there? Where, if anywhere, did You go when the woman was speaking with the serpent? Were You hidden from sight? Why would You hide when their biggest decision ever was being made?

But this apparent absence is what Lent is about, then, isn’t it? We remember Jesus’ struggle and painful wandering out in the desert during a time of utmost importance in His earthly ministry. In that time were You hidden? The text is silent on the subject, saying neither that You were there, nor that you were absent beyond the physical presence of Christ. We get no clear indication that there was a separation of Your communal nature until the agonizing cry from the cross. But even there, was it separation or perception? Are we simply blinded to Your presence at times? How is it that we can feel so far away from You even when we are found in Your very womb, Dear Mother?

These things are too wonderful for me, Beloved! Still, on account of our intimacy, I am free to ask the questions that burn in my heart this night. What happened in Eden? What happened in the desert? What happened at the cross? What is this road about which we are walking along together? Where might it lead, and is the end really the beginning? How can we be coming back to You, as some theologians might say, if You have never really left us in the first place? Surely You are not far from us, Beloved! Surely we are always near to Your heart, O God!

Perhaps more questions will arise, Dear One, as we continue this Lenten journey together. For now, however, I’m glad to have the freedom to bring my questions to You as I prepare to slumber. I pray that I might be tucked into the fold of Your garment and that I might come closer to hearing and echoing Your heartbeat, Beloved. Oh let us be one as I enter my sleep, amen.

On Freedom & Bondage

"Sacred Union" - Photo by Trista Wynne

Oh Lord, I lift up those who are in bondage, in relationships that may be unhealthy with a vicious cycle of violence or oppression! For those who are on my heart this night, I pray that You, O Lord, will rescue and set free. Rescue, O Redeemer! Save, O Savior! Heal, O Healer! Let Your Kingdom come and Your will be done here and now as it is in heaven!

O Prince of Peace, come and deliver Your peoples form the bondage of slavery and death! Remove all the burdens we heap upon ourselves and others! Cast off the shame of guilt and fear and anxiety! Let us be rid of the darkness in ourselves and in the world!

Lord, how much of the darkness that we face is residual from our own internal life-long struggle, and how much is from an unseen entity? You alone know, O Lord! Thankfully You are the One to whom everyone and everything answers and You will sort it all out in the end. For now, we wait and lament because the darkness is so strong that it threatens many lives!

I trust you, Lord. I want to trust You completely. You know what we need, what we have and what we long for. Heal and renew us all: body, mind and soul, and guard us by Your grace so we can delight in Your will and walk in Your way, in Jesus’ name, amen.

Pondering the Light: Beginning the New Year in Question

Photo by Trista Wynne

It seems fitting to me to begin the new year with questions rather than with statements.  Not only do I not know what the future holds, but I have many questions about the past.  The more assertions I come across in my studies, the more I pause for reflection and pondering.  So, as the year of 2010 comes to an end, I begin my new journal with ponderings for my Lord.  I post some of them here in hopes that you also will approach the throne of grace with the confidence of knowing that no matter how deep your questionin might be, you will always be loved and accepted as a child of the Most High.

The ponderings below came in response to a song by a couple of my dear friends reflecting on Matthew 2:1-18, and a meditation by one of my professors on the same passage.  Thank you, dear sisters and brother in Christ, for sharing your song and meditations .  Here are my own ponderings as I speak to my Beloved, the Light of the world:

Light of the world, did you know the darkness You were coming into? Were You, as an infant, cognizant of the stench of death? While the blood of the innocents was shed around You, Mary comforted You with her breast, and Your presence comforted her, too. Like Moses, You entered the world in safety, but many did not see their second birthday while You were hidden away.

Did this weigh on You? When You were a child growing up in Nazareth, were You the only one Your age? Did you see the tears shining in Your father’s eyes at the Passover meal when he recited the way that Moses received his name and his people receive their freedom? Did the people speak in hushed tones as You played with the other children? Did you wonder what your life was preserved for? Did the blood of the innocents cry out to you from the ground as it did with Cain and Able? Was Your compassion deepened on account of this lamentation? Were you aware of their spirits crying out for justice?

When You grew to be a man, and accepted Your anointing, had You wrestled with Your past as well as Your future? Were You up late at night pondering the anguish of the world? Did You wake in the morning to the salty taste of tears on Your pillow? Were you always grieved by the pain of those around You?

I, too, hear the lament. Rachel cries out from every corner of the earth! Even the earth itself is grieved in spirit. How long, O Lord?! How long until every tear is wiped away? How long until everyone acknowledges, through actions of love and peace and justice, that You are Lord above all of creation? How long until Your world is consoled?

He Saw Me: The Woman at the Well

This weekend I was on a two-day retreat with several members of my learning community. We were drawn into the story of Jesus and the woman at the well in Samaria by one of the pastoral spiritual directors who were ministering to us at the time. I closed my eyes and listened as John 4:1-26 was read aloud. The most poignant part of the story for me, (that is, the point at which I believe healing began within this woman) occurred when Jesus saw her. Here I relay this moment through her eyes:

*****

A strange and wonderful thing happened to me this morning. I was seen. Not by the darting, shifting eyes of the uncomfortable neighbors wanting to get away from me as quickly as possible, nor by the scornful elders wishing to renew the law of stoning, nor by the fearful gaze of the children who were told horror stories so they wouldn’t draw near me when I passed in the heat of the day. I was looked at, seen, by a Man. No man has ever seen me as the One today. I have never seen such eyes!

When that Man looked at me, He was not ashamed. He was not brazen either. I was not a filthy garment to be trod upon or a pestilence to be avoided. I was not an object to be possessed and used and abused and then discarded on a whim for a younger, prettier model. 

No. That Man saw me. He saw me! 

His eyes did not trace my figure or burn with ravenous desire; His eyes met mine and lingered. His eyes were compassionate. A softness like the feather of an eagle, and the tenderness of a nursing mother emanated from His inner being when, with those precious, searching eyes, He saw me.

Surely this is no ordinary man.  Surely this Man is Messiah.  Surely He is my Savior.

*****

It struck me as I listened to this story that the majority of Jesus’ miracles begin when He sees someone. Not only is their physical request for healing met, but because Jesus sees every aspect of their lives, He reaches out to the whole person, healing body, mind, spirit and relationships within their communities and family systems. As I meditate on this particular passage, I am struck by how transformational this woman’s encounter with Jesus is. Her shame, solitude, and physical distress are all taken away. She is embraced by the community for sharing the truth of her encounter, and many come to faith in Jesus as Christ, the Savior of the world, on account of her testimony. After encountering Jesus, she no longer has to make a lonely journey to draw water outside of the city in the heat of the day, and her community feels the love of God and knows that the Savior has come near. Every family and community structure in town is turned upside down and healed because Jesus saw the real need.

Tears overflow as I am moved by the powerful heart-knowledge that this same Jesus who saw the woman at the well sees me today. Even when I struggle to see the truth through the layers of my own tumult, I can take comfort in knowing that I am being seen for who I am, and the eyes that behold me are the eyes of Love. Thanks be to God!

Soul-seeking in the Spirit of Truth

In response to a dear friend's concern that they might be spending too much time inside themselves and not enough time in prayer, I wrote the following piece.  I believe it speaks to many who are seeking to be faithful but have received the message (either directly or indirectly) that they should renounce themselves and strive to become someone else.  I am reading a book by Parker J. Palmer entitled Let Your Life Speak:Listening for the Voice of Vocation and I find that I resonate with much of what he is saying within the first few chapters.  Parker's book helped me identify how best to serve my friend in response.  I may have more reflections as I work my way through this text.  For now, I share my developing views and encourage you who read not to be afraid to dive deep into your own inward parts.  If you find that your early woundings or in-depth conversations with your heart are difficult, I encourage you to consider locating a professional counselor, (many of whom work on sliding scales) and/or a trained spiritual director in your area.  I can tell you from experience that these well-trained professionals are tremendously helpful in seeking health, wholeness and peace.  Blessings to you along your journey.  May we all come to know that we are the beloved children of a loving and gracious God!

*****
Beloved ~

I certainly understand the heart's tendency to "turn inward rather than upward" in the alone times, but perhaps this is exactly part of the plan to find closer fellowship with our Lord. It is easy to get the impression from outside influences, (and even Christian churches) that our inward self, (heart, mind, spirit) have been completely tainted by sin and have to be harnessed or escaped from in order that we might willfully become obedient to Christ's orders for us. The more time I spend with myself and soaking in the Word, (particularly the Psalms, Song of Songs and other Hebrew Scriptures) the more I am discerning that our inward parts which were "knit together in our mother's womb" have been uniquely created for us to be able to process, interact with and reach out to the world around us. Beloved, we are not turning away from God when we turn to listen to our heart beat, we are acknowledging the amazing handiwork of our Creative and Gracious Lord. "I praise You for I am fearfully and wonderfully made," says the psalmist, we "know that the Lord is God, [for] it is He who made us and we are His". Certainly there are times when our hearts are hardened or our spirit is wrestling with the Most High, but I believe these times are the exception rather than the rule.

Trust the Teacher within your heart. Our Lord has promised never to leave or forsake us, has promised to give us hearts of flesh not of stone, and has promised that the Holy Spirit will be our continual Teacher, Comforter, Guide and Friend -- searching our inward parts and constantly interceding on our behalf. As long as you remain open, you will not be led astray when you look within, for the Lord is guiding your discernment and processing, and is using this time to prepare you for the tasks that lay ahead.

When you are remembering things that happened to and around you during your childhood and early adolescent years, the Holy Spirit is guiding your inward parts into new alignment, healing old wounds, working to strengthen and uphold you with Her victorious right hand. When you are remembering the words that you have heard in the classrooms, worship settings and Bible studies throughout the years, the Great Teacher is solidly fixing the Word to your inward parts, letting it shape each heart beat, influence your mind and helping you to come to love yourself deeper. Remember, Beloved, that we are called to love our neighbor as ourself, and thus we need to develop deeper and more sincere love for every part of ourselves so we can develop love, kindness, compassion and mercy for the people, animals and world around us. When we come face to face with times where we have left something undone that probably should have been done, or done something one way when we likely could have done it better, these are not times for us to become self-effacing, but rather they are times when we can connect with the people around us who see themselves and others as broken so that we will not judge but instead offer the mercy, grace, compassion and healing that our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ offers to all people.

My dear undergrad professor and mentor used to say that the journey inward and the journey upward will, eventually, lead to the same place. The more time I spend inside myself, (as I have done a great deal of this summer, not without some turmoil, questioning and frustration) the more I come to sense that this saying is deeply rooted in Scriptural truth. Soul-seeking is a way of listening to the Holy Spirit, a way of cherishing the Breath of Life which flows from the Living God, and a way of acknowledging that "the earth is being filled with the knowledge of the glory of God as the waters cover the sea". I believe our inner tumult is a way of stretching our view of who God is and opening us up to more fully comprehend how very great the salvation of incarnation: (the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ) truly is. The Holy Spirit is present within you and around you, Beloved in Christ. Do not doubt but believe that our Lord who created you, who knit you together in your mother's womb, who called you by name before you were born, who has a plan to prosper you and not to harm you, who calls you friend, child and beloved, this same Lord is working within your inward parts, aligning them with Her own heartbeat, filling them with His light and love and peace, and preparing you for the many challenges that lie ahead in your journey.

Peace be with you, Beloved.

I love you and lift you up in prayer every day. Your name lies on my makeshift altar (coffee table draped with precious cloth, sprinkled with sweet oil, and arranged with art, photos, Scripture, candles and symbols of our faith) and I trust that the Lord is already guiding this process of discernment and self-reflection. This is all for His glory. Trust the process; it is Spirit-filled.

Scary Stories

While reading a bedtime story to one of the children I nanny, I found him snuggling up close to me. At one point, he hid his face in my shirt and said, "I'm scared". I reassured him of my presence by drawing him closer to me and letting him hear my voice telling him that I was there. Then, with him in my arms, I continued on with the story; -- Granted, I did skip some of the violence, but read enough that he knew the climax of the scary part. -- He breathed a sigh of relief as the conflict began to resolve and opened his eyes to see the full resolution and illustrations at the end. When it was all over, he had many questions and a story of his own to share.

I suppose I would have stopped the story if his stress level had become too high, of probably even if he had asked me to stop reading. Yet, he wanted to know how it would all turn out in the end, and he trusted me enough to know I would stop if it was absolutely too much. I was greatly pleased that he chose to cling to me as his nanny and storyteller, rather than running somewhere else. The fact that he could tell me he was scared showed me he trusts me to acknowledge his feelings as valid, and to embrace him when he's down. Even if he couldn't look at the pictures, he still knew the story because I was there sharing it with him.

Maybe we can all learn a little something from this child. When life is like the story that was a little scary, maybe we can bury our face in the garments of our Lord. Let us trust that we will not be rejected, but that instead, we will be received with love and gentleness. Let us have trust and confidence in our Lord to know how the story ends and to tailor the problems to what we can handle in our spiritual maturity level. And may we come to feel the presence and hear the voice of our Lord in whatever times we find ourselves in.

In Jesus' name,
amen.

My Refuge and My Rock

A woman enters the chapel holding a well-used, tattered Bible. She had nearly worn it through with her reading. Passages were highlighted and underlined, notes were made in the margin and prayers permeated every fiber of its pages. The Bible was gripped so tightly her knuckles were white. Approaching the front of the chapel, nearing the altar, the woman cried out. Her jaw was set and her cheeks tear-streaked. With all her might she flung the Bible down on the ground and addressed her Lord.

“What is the purpose of this thing?! Are these stories just here to mock me? Stories of all the miracles you can do but won’t?! Sarah – an old woman given a healthy, beautiful child and becomes the mother of our faith. Hannah - the barren woman is given a child, a strong and mighty prophet, even. Elizabeth – the woman said to be barren is filled with the child who heralds the coming of our Lord. Mary – a woman who hasn’t even known a man is filled with a child by the power of the Holy Spirit. Miracles and healings, and births abundant are here in this book, yet this world is filled with illness and death and grief and women who cannot conceive.”

She sighs, lowers her eyes and weeps bitter tears. She is in great anguish and struggling deeply. She has wept countless times for a great many people, but today the pain she feels is her own. There is a deep, inner turmoil that she must express, that she must bring to her Lord.

“Do you think that this struggle will make me leave you?! Is it possible that you allow a trial to take place to test my faith?! Do you expect me to refuse you, or to call upon another?! No, I tell you. I will not leave you. I will not forsake you. I will not deny you by any means. Though my health may fail, though all around me perish, though my womb remain void of the child I so desperately desire, though my dreams be shattered and taken away, I will cling to you. Though the battles round me rage, though I be cut down, though the storm takes everything I own, still I will cling to you. You are my Lord, there is no other. Nothing will tear me from your arms. Here I stand, I can do no other, heaven help me, amen.”

She opens her eyes. She didn’t even realize they were closed. She is not in the chapel at all, but in her own home. She has poured out her soul to the Lord, has fought a battle which threatened to consume her, and arisen stronger than she ever knew she could be. It is a battle that rages each month, one whose fierceness is determined by what she has encountered along the journey of life, and is most fierce around the solstices when she is already engaged in spiritual warfare. The battle often leads her to question her relationships, her body, her sanity and her faith, but always the battle is won and she stands victorious in the end. The questioning only lasts for a brief time, but God’s steadfast love endures forever, and in that love she places her trust.

This is the story of my heart, a look at my faith and one of the struggles I face. May all who come to read it know that you are not alone in whatever struggle you face. May you know that you can bring anything to your Lord and Savior. May you know that you will never be rejected, but will always be met with open arms from a God who loves you. And may you know the peace and hope that flows from the heart of the Beloved this day and forever more.

For we also rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disapoint us, because God's love has been poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. (Romans 5:3-5)

Amen.