sorrow

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My Mournful Selves are Welcomed

A fierce mouse with a tiny, but sharp sword came home with me last night (from MSK*). His name is anger though he’s not full of rage. He’s just an irritant, that won’t let my soul settle. Poke—uncertainly about treatment. Poke—don’t know what to eat. Poke—damn, cancer continues on; how long? Poke, poke, poke.

I woke this morning with my head on sorrow’s shoulder. She was a green, alien creature, with duck-like webbed feet and hands. I lay quietly in her surrounding arms. It felt comforting. I could relax.

Falling asleep again, I dreamt of a foster boy, returned to my care after his rejecting forever parents didn’t want him. It broke me. Ripped from my heart was the hope that good will reign, my body fell to a heap as I wept tears of anguish. 

And now, the Psalmist asks,  “Why must I walk around mournfully because of the oppression of my enemies?”  —Psalm 43

Why must I walk around mournfully because of the oppression of my enemies?

Here’s why

These mournful feelings are why—the anger, the sorrow, the brokenheartedness. They accompany me as I sit in prayer. I picture them. The comforting alien carrying the heap of a broken heart on a litter in her arms with the fierce mouse, teeth bared, placing his paw on the alien’s back offering solidarity and strength. 

Together, we ask for your light and truth to lead us to your holy hill, your dwelling place. (v3) 

I raise my head and see, the brilliance of your light shining through the truth of your cross. Your light welcomes my united, mournful, and desperate self.  

To enter your dwelling place, my companions and I shape ourselves into the form of a cross. Like a square peg in a square hole, the whole of myself must conform and fit into truth—Yes, Injustices exist, tears flow, hearts shatter. But, the cross changes their shape. 

My mournful selves transmogrify into trinkets on a charm bracelet. Your light shimmers off of anger’s sword, like gleaming gold, it glistens in sorrow’s moist tears like little diamonds, and broken heart’s litter becomes a square of woven cashmere.  

I approach your altar, place the bracelet upon it, bow, and wait. 

God’s voice: “Do not be cast down, my precious one. I hold your life within my home. Remember to hope in me. I promise praise shall rule and you shall rise with joy.” (v5)

With you on the journey, 

Debby

*MSK is Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Treatment Center.

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Whether you are a Mary or a Gardener

Thoughts on John 20:11-18

Where in my life do I feel like Mary? Standing outside the tomb weeping? Dreams have died?  Hope is lost? Despair has set in? I can’t think of any area of my life so disheartened. So I will sit and allow the HS to awaken my sorrow. Nothing comes to my awareness. So thank you for that, Lord. But I know there are many who weep with Mary. So caught up with sorrow that your figure and voice are unrecognizable. Teach me how to help them hear you call their name.

  1. Dare to ask why. Lord, make me bold like the angels, recognizing and validating the other’s sadness or suffering. This takes a lot of selflessness on my part which I resist. To inquire after another’s heart means I will have to attentively listen to their response. This takes time and presence and I admit, I hoard my time and attention. Lord, grant me the grace to love well enough to ask why and remain emotionally connected to the ones you love.
  2. Ask questions that uncover the pain. Jesus, you asked the same question the angels did and then you went one layer deeper, “Whom are you seeking?” Lord, help me help people know that the alleviation of their pain is found in you. They may be crying over a loss of health, a difficult job, unruly children, all valid reasons to be sorrowful; but restored health, a new job or well-behaved children will not ultimately erase the source of their sadness.  Lord, teach me to gently point them to the who they seek, not the what they seek.
  3. Speak to them the personal words of Jesus. When you called her by her name, she recognized you. Attune my heart to hear the words of love and comfort you want to communicate to the one you love, and have given me to love in your place. This is risky! Disguise yourself as a gardener in me, let me be the channel, connecting you with the one you love. I need to get out of the way, there is no room for pride on my part. My job is to listen to the other and to you and by faith offer the love your Spirit prompts. A little scary.

Addendum: So for the Mary’s out there. Know the Lord knows your sorrow and is near whether you recognize him or not. He may show up through your best friend, or by reading this post. Listen for your name.