Reflections

It's been a few days. I have needed the rest as I settle into Ohio again, disappointed that I am not in California, and therefore not being available to the beauty of today because I want to be in tomorrow. It's a theme of my life, losing the precious present because I wish something were different. In that frame, somehow, I also lose the joy I have just received, because even the most recent delights are overshadowed by my inability to embrace the moment for what it is now.

I am learning. One of my favorite developmental affirmations is this one: "You can take all the time you need to learn and grow." Part of growth for me is to learn to savor joy like my favorite tastes and smells, to imprint it on my memory and return to it till it becomes a part of not only my past, but my present, and my heart holds an anticipation of it in the days that are to come.

I experienced amazing things in Brazil. The presence and power of God like I have only longed for before. Joy unspeakable. A sea of love. Vibrant celebration. Miracle healing. Laughing till it hurt and spreading it like so much gold dust cast into the air. The ecstasy of praying for someone steeped in pain who in a moment's time is whole. On earth as it is in heaven.

Then I come back to my little life. To the place that still feels like "the time between," where I am coming out of years of sickness and moving toward I don't know what. My tendency to minimize, focus on pain and let downs, to shift back to the status quo remains. My heart is flooded with longings rather than satisfactions. Contentment with who I am and where God has me still eludes me. Is it that I am caught up in the prayer I prayed so often in Brazil: "More, Lord" (Mais, el Senor)? Perhaps. Or maybe my desires are good, a part of me that is ready to minister again, love more fully, embrace a new path, grow. Perhaps the dissatisfaction I feel is a catapult to help me have the courage to face all the changes that are necessary to move forward.

So today I will even embrace the longings since I have them in this moment, and just be here, in Ohio, with reflections that are a mixture of warm joy and shallow sadness and be okay with it all. Not all of life is travel, adventure, dramatic, vibrant experiences. The presence of God is in each moment, whether vibrant or dull, loud or quiet, full of miracles or the tangible realities of human longing. He is here and I am loved, circled by a joy that is not always felt, but just IS. Selah.

And since it's Resurrection weekend, a place where suffering and confusion mingle with the mightiest of miracles, I can ask for grace to fix my eyes on Jesus, and like Him (in the smallest of ways) look for the joy while enduring the pain inherent in the story of my life. After all, in order to have the glory of Easter morn, one does have to die first. But then there's Pentecost...Selah, again, but of a different tone. I think I'll reflect on that for awhile.