If there are readers of this blog, there are at least three categories of you: The ones that knew me when, the ones that are confused and had no idea that I was even divorced, much less back in Montana, and those that know me well today. It's a little overwhelming to realize that I have no control over WHO reads this. These two years have been excruciating in terms of relationship loss. I shudder a little to imagine my heart so open, in the hands of "the enemy". But, whatev. They've had their fun, and I'm better for it. Maybe one day I can genuinely thank them. Today is not that day.
If you've known me long, you know how connected to the church community I have always been. You may have known me in the context of Mexican missions. Some of you have taught me in a class. Others have heard me sing week after week on the praise team. A select few of you have been in studies I have taught. On marriage. (The irony is not lost on me girls, trust me.) A precious group of you have met with me in a small group setting- for years, dissecting sermons and discussing life application....
There's another group of you that know me recently. You know how angry I have been at Christians and God and "churchiness". This facade, the stained glass masquerade, fake, fake, fake. I loathe the churchy phrases. I have absolutely NO tolerance for theological debate and ideology. You have probably heard me use astounding language to express my distaste. You are the group of people that are most amazed by entries this week in my blog.
To the very small handful of you that knew me when, knew me last year, and have stuck with me so far this week: why?! I am amazed by your grace and compassion and empathy and LOVE.
So here I am: Week 2 Day 4
The internal narrative I fear the most is circling relentlessly today. "I am not worth fighting for. Pursuing. Winning." This is not something I made up ladies and gentlemen. It comes from months, no years, of proof. I have not been worth it, to the ones I have given myself to the most. Without going into a personalized list of names (what good would that do you anyway?), I see faces of no less than 10 people I genuinely loved who have been stripped from my life recently. We could go through that list together and come up with excuses for each one, but would it help? I can tell you, no. So, last week's exercise was to replace the false narratives with truth. This one is tough for me. I don't have a lot of experience being pursued. This will have to be strictly a faith replacement narrative.
Psalm 136 has 26 verses. All of them end with "His steadfast love endures forever." For today's challenge I went to Riverfront Park again. This time I went to the river side to watch the water move. I took note of a few things: There is a gorgeous green color in the water. Parts of the river that got caught up on the bank and slowed down have slime and muck and trash collected in it. The water is low this time of year, exposing lots of rocky gravel bars. The edges of the river where it slows have started to freeze. There is an amazing light show on the water as the sun dances its way to noon. There is an elderly man with a walking stick muttering to his golden ranch dog as they walk the path. He is careful to avoid looking at me, which is satisfying, since I'm in my solitude.
There are three things I notice. Really notice. The first is the choppy waves from the wind on the upstream portion of the river. Relentless, steadfast. There is a full sized cottonwood tree washed up on a gravel bar. It is soft and worn, like driftwood. Shaped by the power of the water. Downstream the water is meandering, slowly, calmly.
There is not chaos. The river is moving powerfully, relentlessly. Softening and shaping and moving what it comes into contact with. Steadily pursuing the ocean, with confidence. I am craving the pursuit. Experiencing it, possibly. I feel like I am being shaped, softened, moved. I am not in control. I am fearful. I am excited.
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