uprooted

it's the last day. thank God! because i'm done. i'm ready to begin again. the thing about being linear, limited by time, is that time matters. dates matter.  we mark our lives with them. like flags or buoys in our life. we can have newness. we can begin. 

there was a reading today in the celtic book of prayer, from Edith Schaeffer, a founder of l'abri fellowship, that resonated with me.

a completely new work … would never have been possible if we had not been uprooted completely in every way, and if in that uprooting we had not decided to pray for God’s solution and leading every step of the path as it wound through unknown territory.

i get this. the unknownness, the uprooting.  and i'm ready for a completely new work. i'm hopeful, eager. actually i'm more than hopeful, i'm anticipating, because this is what God promises. and often our greatest works, grow out of the uprooting, the struggle.  out of our comfort zone, in our chaos, God shows up with grace and mercy. and if we are quiet and patient and listening, if we can sit still and suspend our ideas and let go of our plans, if we can trust and turn it over, if we can wait, if we can be led, beautiful big things happen.

this is what i want.  to fill my life and my days doing the work that my story has led me to do.  and i don't want to miss out on what could be amazing because i'm too busy or too scared or too comfortable or too uncomfortable to pay attention. i want to walk through the unknown territory, on the winding path, led by the One who knows the way.  i want to ring as a bell in the darkness and grow stronger and embrace the change. i want to be the wine and the mystery and the meaning, and say: i flow, and speak: i am.

Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,

what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.

In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.

And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.

Sonnets to Orpheus II, 29

Maria Rainer Rilke