we are beloved

the other day i saw a snippet of what is wrong with the world.  driving down a street i drive down everyday, a street full of people and dirt and ramshackle and broken down trucks and no trees or space to breath, i saw a grungy wild dog going to the bathroom beside the road, wearing that mildly embarrassed, ashamed face that dogs wear when they sit in that known position relieving themselves with no cover.  she was there- exposed and vulnerable in her place in life- always fending for herself - eating from trash piles- finding shelter and bathrooms where she can.  no sooner had she squatted than a male equally mangy dog mounted her.  she let out a moan of fatigue and frustration and deflated anger and deep longing for something other than this life of hers.  a groan of sad desperation- of helplessness- of sorrow.  her bark cry of 'where is the peace?', of 'get off', of 'no more', of 'can i just do what nature calls me to do without you having to do what your natures tells you to do to me?'  it worked and he retreated, ran off over the railroad tracks and she finished her business in exposed peace. there was something in that sound she made- that ache- that disturbed me- that spoke to me of humanity- of the conflict- the disconnect- the dissatisfaction that sits in our days.  all this in a flash as i drove by.

yesterday was fathers day- a day when i think of my beautiful dad and my beautiful husband and how they love their kids and how they point up- how they center their lives on the One who is love- how they point to the Father- who calls us all His beloved.

Abba, who wants us to walk with him.  he tries to make it simple and easy, but we spend our lives making it complex and rule-y.  we like to boil it down, to hold the truths of the universe- but in tying down the infinite we lose the intricacy, and the mystery.  we lose the process, we miss the growth of the days- the hours-we miss the search and the seeking.  our sticky little hands trying to understand, push the One who is Love and can not be contained- into spaces that we think make sense- at least to most of us- but He can not be made small.  it doesn't work- He doesn't fit.

can today i let go? can today i let Him be big and glorious and uncontained?   can i stand in awe and feel both my smallness and my grandeur (because this father seeks to know me)?  can i live in days that are bigger than i imagine? into places that are unknown but full of mystery and promise?

the Goodness waits for us when we embrace the openness- when we allow ourselves to sit with uncertainty- to be still and only sometimes know one thing- "that I am God" that I AM is enough.  that those words hold in themselves the nature- the massive and mysterious nature of our creator.

love the Lord your God with ALL your mind, All your soul, All your strength.  Love your neighbor.  whoever they are- whatever they look like- whatever they do- or don't do.  Love your self. even on the days when you fail- when you can't even try.  because you are loved, and so is your neighbor.

where is the containment in that? that is huge and encompassing and total and constant.
ALL. not part.
ALLways- not sometimes.

And the greatest of these is LOVE.

we spend our seventy years trying to make sense of this- to find love- to be loved- to be loving. to love what we do- who we are- who we live with- and birth- and share life with.  like zoe we don't want 'help', we want control.  we don't like our need, we like success.  we don't want to seek, we only want to find.

my first boyfriend was a recovering alcoholic.  i had a huge amount of respect for his humility and awareness of our limitations- and our brokenness. i went to meetings with him- i met rooms full of people who had been down so low-who had known that desperation - that depravity- like that dog on the street- so well that they had no choice but to utter the serenity prayer when they open their eyes each morning- and many times in the day- and with others who've been on that same road- and at night when they shut their eyes again. 

'Lord grant me the serenity to accept the things i cannot change, the courage to change the things i can, and the wisdom to know the difference.'

because there are things we cannot change (but we try so endlessly to change them).
there are things we can (but don't, or won't).
can we ask the One who knows- to bestow that to us?  to admit our powerlessness? our struggle? our need?

i sit with these things.  i ask myself, can i accept that i am His beloved? can i be still with the mystery? can i let it remain as big as it is and not shove it into small places?  can i be okay with my limits? my need? my inability and dependence?  can i love out of that love?  that massive, permanent, encompassing love that answers the moan and the cry.  can i ask for serenity, and courage and wisdom? can i call Him father?