be-musings

I have wanted to go the river (yes, Lori, sorry to say, the river) to start the New Year. It's a place of symbolism to me. A place to lay down the worries in my life and to give to God those things I would rather hold tightly. I haven't been to the river in over 2 months. I don't generally believe in times of reflection only on a timed occasion per year, but somehow this year is different. So, after grocery shopping I headed out there. I didn't stay long though, because just the thought of going there began the thought and prayer process that used to happen while there. I guess that's a good thing. It has become part of my soul.
On the way, I began to formulate a prayer. I wished there was paper and pen present, to capture the moment. Then my thoughts turned to this past holiday season, in its joy and in its sorrow. Is became melancholy. Usually my thoughts begin melancholy and end with hope. This was the reverse. And that was the opposite of what I wanted and needed, so now I will do this post in the order that I want my heart to follow. I've talked before about being a fairly private person. I don't show the depth of my emotions with others because they "don't need" to see it. If you ask me how I'm doing I'll usually smile and say "fine" or "good", because I answer in the context of my relationship with the person who is speaking with me. My life with you is fine or good. My life in my private thoughts or emotions are not always good or fine. Well, if I don't get past the introduction this post will be way too long.

I looked forward to this Christmas with anticipation, for an unknown reason. It seems that it should have been the opposite, since I'm newly separated, going through emotional turmoil, being talked (aka challenged or criticized) to and behind my back, managing the homefront and job, bearing what others may say are the consequences of my recent life choice. Yet I am in some ways an optimist and wasn't going to give in to depression or despair at this hope-filled time of year.
Much to my dismay at lack of control of emotion, Christmas Eve was difficult. I returned to New Heights for the first time in 6 weeks. I have missed the family and the spirit there. Toby's song brought tears on my face (you know, it's only called crying if the tears fall versus well up in your eyes) because I have missed the place. It was hard being there though, and I was (and still am) afraid to take my eyes off the floor while walking through the seating area and foyer. I left hastily after the service, because my heart couldn't stay. And you know, the heart must go where the body goes! At home later I tried to be jovial, but it was difficult. When everyone went to bed I laid in front of the Christmas tree, crying. It hurt so bad. I felt black and ugly. It seemed that was the longest I had cried in a long time, and I am not given to tears very much. At least, not tears of sadness. Don't look at me during a sentimental moment in someone's life though! After the crying was over, I laid on the floor still, head under the blanket, immersed in darkness not looking at the bright of the lights on the tree. I was there for 3 hours, dozing inbetween the anguish, until finally sensibility took over and I went to bed. I found out the next day that my sister kept sneaking in the livingroom to put goodies in the stockings, and going back to her room everytime she saw me still there. So, I kept her up until 2:30!
Christmas Day came with hope and joy. I was immersed in Matthew's excitement and was thrilled to be involved in his day. It was a welcome change from the evening before. The remainder of that week continued well. No, I forgot about church that Sunday. Afterwards I spoke to a fellow attendee and began to thank them for something that was meaningful to me which happened between us in the fall. That opening line was met with what I perceived was criticism, condemnation, accusation, and preaching. I went home shaking, very hurt, and to be honest angry. For a while it boiled, but that afternoon I called the person and we talked. It is my honest desire to be gracious and kind, not angry. I want to come through this part of my life with light, not blackness of the soul.
New Years Eve a decision was to be made. Do I stay home and not go to the street church dance, which I had so wanted to attend? I was afraid another confrontation would ensue from someone else, or that I would catch "glances". It feels there is only so much my heart can take now. Mom and I decided to go and to be honest, I was so afraid. I felt that I "knew" it would be another teary departure, as had happened a while prior. The evening began with caution in my heart and movements, though I tried not to let others see that. I was so happy to greet the people there and gave them big hugs, so grateful that at least for those moments I didn't hurt. When people would call me onto the dance floor I went, but so afraid to look at anyone for what I may see in their eyes. As the evening wore on I found more freedom, especially near the end. A worship song was played and I danced in front of the speakers, arms stretched out in love for God. He is constant. He is the lover of my soul. I was in enraptured with Him. It was such a good feeling, and one that I have missed.
Today I went to church at the new location. Once again it was difficult, but not as hard as other times. I was pulled aside and questioned about my separation, and once again "preached at". I was also hugged by some others later, and held onto as if to say "I love you". I was told that I am missed on stage. It was all good to hear. I want to hang onto those healing things that happened this morning, not the questioning. Scott talked about reconciliation. Peter denied Jesus three times. Jesus, after rising from the grave, asked Peter 3 times if Peter loved him. Peter's answer wasn't necessarily "right" according to our hindsight (when asked if he loves Jesus, Peter replied that he liked him), but Jesus was gracious in publicly restoring him to forgiveness and acceptance. Three times denied...three times given the opportunity to proclaim his acceptance and love of Christ. God's irony and restoration is amazing.
These are the things that went through me on the way to the river. Yes, they are depressing (at least to me). I don't like pausing in life for these kinds of thoughts or memories. Love and joy are too fleeting when credibility is given to sorrow. Yet sometimes through sorrow we then lay in God's arms and allow Him to heal us. To accept His love when we have shut out the love of others or can't see it. To heal and rise and experience His true joy, sustaining us through the next part of our journey. Maybe it all happens in one day, and then again the next day. In those times I hope the sorrow becomes shorter and shorter, and the hope, love and joy lengthier and more resilient.
I guess I just began another prayer for your life and my life. I will post the next section later tonight.