begin again

when i was in medical school i struggled to hold all my academic kite strings.  there were so many classes, so much information, so much left brain. i couldn't sit for hours in a library taking notes neatly- i needed to spread it out- in color- i needed to engage it in pictures or with humor- anything to help it be more enjoyable and to get it into my brain.

so i began to make posters early on.  large posters.  i carried them around in a scroll and i carried around my rainbow pack of markers.  i would stretch out on the floor and in one large space cover respiratory pathogens- or how the kidney worked.  i could draw it out- write it out- see it- color it- relate it to other things- and it was fun.

today was the beautiful letdown.  that day when your guest leaves and your house is quieter and emptier- but so is your heart.  you feel far away again. and become sad that you're not going home for christmas. you breath and wonder.  why am i so far away? what are we doing? why is there so much noise in my head? and all the items you've pushed to the side while you visited, jump up and scream for attention.  today my todo list was too long and complicated and boring- and i could see the kites bouncing and blowing in the wind above me- all the pieces of my life that need sorting and deciding and time and energy. today it feels like there are so many, and their long ribboned tails are tied together- they overlap and depend on each other for the deciding and ordering.

so while i wanted to climb straight back to bed, pull the covers over my head and pray that by the time i woke up they would have magically untangled themselves, and several would have floated away- i didn't.  i got up- took rosie to school and walked up monkey hill, asking for clarity, when i should have been quiet and begging.  i walked and thought. i reasoned and listed. i ordered and re-ordered. i tried to write it out in my head- but i continually got stuck- there was a jam- the strings were knotted. i couldn't let go. 

when i came back home i remembered the scroll of posters that helped me process a lot of information. maybe i need to go back to that.  coloring out my life. so i wrote on unlined paper with markers, but that didn't help either.

then i remembered where the answers lie. 
in the stillness.
in the still small voice passing by the cave.  not the thunder, not the earthquake, not the storm or the fire- it's not in the drama of the tangled kite strings.

but what do we have to do to hear that whisper?
elijah cleared the plate. he let go, went away alone- called out and gave up. but before God spoke, he fed elijah, and elijah ate; he let him sleep, and elijah slept; he fed him again-because he knew of his journey, and elijah ate again.  elijah obeyed in the little things- the simple bits.  he listened and trusted and followed. then after a 40 day trip, God led him up a mountain and asked him a question - what are you doing here? elijah answered- not with the smart-alec answer i would have given- like 'because you told me to come up here'- but with his real answer- his problem- his struggle.  then God told him to stand on the mountain- and He came in a whisper - asking the same question- what are you doing here elijah? again he answered.  

then God revealed the plan and the promise.

i don't know what it is about the asking.  except that it's engaging and relational.  it required elijah's reflection- which reinforced his conviction, and his answer helped bring clarity and common purpose.

i need to sit in the empty house.
quiet the mind.
still the soul.
rest and eat and rest and eat and obey in the small things.  i need to listen to the question - what are you doing here? i need to go back to the beginning- before so much life happened here. i need to not feel the tug and pressure of the kite strings above me.  i need to look up, past them, into the great wide open. go back to the place where it began.

the promise hadn't changed for elijah, for the people of israel. 
the promise hasn't changed for us. 
provision. guidance. love. non-abandonment. forgiveness. redirection. relationship. joy. peace.
be still and know. I am God.