it's finally warming up. i've been thinking more about the book 'the dirty life' that i just finished. i've been thinking about brokenness. about how the things that move us the most- that stir our spirits- are interwoven with strife or pain. people being born, people dying. running a marathon. climbing a mountain.
the author's experience of tilling the land- bridling the horses-lifting the hay barrels- took much sweat and effort- it was a challenge- in many ways it broke her. she couldn't out-smart nature. she needed to rely on other people, learn their ways, and change. experiencing birth breaks you. you can have the perfect plan, and then you go into labor- and you realize your ultimate lack of control- and you experience the definition of a miracle-fruition, creation. kicking, crying, breathing life from an act of passion 10 months before. how little you really had to do with it. and death. how a body so strong, knowledgeable, attractive, dignified- is broken, by illness or accident or the violence of another- and then in a moment-all that life- gone. those left loving, are broken. now aware of their limits- their endings, and of the delicacy of us all.
for a long time i was frustrated by the brokenness. by the need of it- in finding truth, just by the pain of it. when we were living in the unknown valley of what to expect with jude during my pregnancy, after being given a poor prognosis- i remember falling to my knees in the shower- weeping- broken. feeling the cold porcelain tub and the smooth warm water and my body- my swollen womb- and the helplessness rained around me. i was just an object, a piece of something- like the water, like the tub- crying out for a God who loved me to intervene. to meet me there- in that deep deep sorrow- and gather the pieces back together. and He did. that brokenness moved me- it showed me a bigger world, a bigger plan- and how limited the view is.
it's ongoing. life promises us joys and sorrows- you can't just have one flavor. right now is one of the joyous times. a beautiful day- sunny, warmish- lots of time with family- grandparents- good food- friends. an almost full moon and a clear evening sky. smiling children. melted snowman with a hat still on in the front yard. seeing that night sky- knowing that all around the world- people are all looking at that same moon- feels whole- feels healing. yet i know that some won't notice the moon- because they're too hungry, it's too stormy, or they're crying out in a tub somewhere with a deep, deep sorrow.
but with it all- there is hope. each day, is new, and brings newness. new people, new ideas. new opportunity to see God- either in a sunset or through our tears. to feel our smallness and our unity. to give and to remind and to push through our tough times, with each other. knowing that we really live for the moments when our spirits move.
the author's experience of tilling the land- bridling the horses-lifting the hay barrels- took much sweat and effort- it was a challenge- in many ways it broke her. she couldn't out-smart nature. she needed to rely on other people, learn their ways, and change. experiencing birth breaks you. you can have the perfect plan, and then you go into labor- and you realize your ultimate lack of control- and you experience the definition of a miracle-fruition, creation. kicking, crying, breathing life from an act of passion 10 months before. how little you really had to do with it. and death. how a body so strong, knowledgeable, attractive, dignified- is broken, by illness or accident or the violence of another- and then in a moment-all that life- gone. those left loving, are broken. now aware of their limits- their endings, and of the delicacy of us all.
for a long time i was frustrated by the brokenness. by the need of it- in finding truth, just by the pain of it. when we were living in the unknown valley of what to expect with jude during my pregnancy, after being given a poor prognosis- i remember falling to my knees in the shower- weeping- broken. feeling the cold porcelain tub and the smooth warm water and my body- my swollen womb- and the helplessness rained around me. i was just an object, a piece of something- like the water, like the tub- crying out for a God who loved me to intervene. to meet me there- in that deep deep sorrow- and gather the pieces back together. and He did. that brokenness moved me- it showed me a bigger world, a bigger plan- and how limited the view is.
it's ongoing. life promises us joys and sorrows- you can't just have one flavor. right now is one of the joyous times. a beautiful day- sunny, warmish- lots of time with family- grandparents- good food- friends. an almost full moon and a clear evening sky. smiling children. melted snowman with a hat still on in the front yard. seeing that night sky- knowing that all around the world- people are all looking at that same moon- feels whole- feels healing. yet i know that some won't notice the moon- because they're too hungry, it's too stormy, or they're crying out in a tub somewhere with a deep, deep sorrow.
but with it all- there is hope. each day, is new, and brings newness. new people, new ideas. new opportunity to see God- either in a sunset or through our tears. to feel our smallness and our unity. to give and to remind and to push through our tough times, with each other. knowing that we really live for the moments when our spirits move.
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