I have a story to share.
I'm living in the woods in a tiny off-grid cabin with my best friends and it's been a sanctuary to say the least, despite it's stylistic challenges. We get out water straight from the ground, and operate the house on propane, wood heat, and battery. My room is narrow and fits my twin bed and some shelves and is lit by one window, which views a forest of birch trees. Most nights, the moon is more brilliant than any place I've lived, so brilliant I can see the texture of the trees and earth encompassing the cabin. It's worth noting because it's a display of hope to me, a very learned thing these past month of living here. It's a quiet and slow winter. I've been sleeping long and delighting in the woodland sounds when I'm awake. I've had the space to reconnect with my breath, learn what it means for my body to be a temple for God. Art has been seamlessly pouring out of me, even in my dreams. Just the other day I had a dream I was taking photos of a mossy marsh which edged a vast, red desert landscape, broken up by cliffs. Sort of like Arches National Park, but otherworldly. You can bet I'll be painting that at some point. The experience of home is expanding in me, roots reaching deeper from the seeds of girlhood. Breaking open, connecting with neighboring trees. Gosh, the woods are potent. I feel grateful to live so fully in them at the moment. I know it won't be forever, but it's right now and I'm soaking up the poetry.
It wasn't like this when I moved six months ago. It wasn't like this in January. Charlie lived his last week, which I spent grieving with my family, then I drove to Wisconsin to be alone in a prayer cabin, also in the middle of the woods. I went for my own reasons, but Jesus surpassed that and addressed my shame. I stopped pretending for the three days I was there and cursed and complained and said everything I was afraid to say aloud, with God's many names before and during and after. He listened and kept saying he loves me. I kept asking how. In the moment I didn't feel much, but I realized something big happened after I left. I am imperfect and I can not master my own life without something going wrong, without ending up in despair. God knows this. God fashioned me with finite in mind. This is the great gift. Jesus is infinite in capacity, immeasurable in his strength. Harmony is on the other side of letting him take the responsibility for my imperfections. That's exactly what he did on the cross. It is already finished. To take charge of my life is to continuously crucify him. Coming out of the retreat, I stopped trying to figure out my life and instead tried asking for help as my first method of resolve. Help me to understand grace. Help me with my shame as I realize grace proves I am a sinner. Help me with my expectations. Help me love. Help me love. I am a believer in Christ, and I have been for all my life, but each milestone in my faith seems to be understanding the simple gospel in a deeper, richer way. Christianity talks about sanctification, and I think that's what I'm talking about here. Each time we understand grace a little more, real change happens. We can not do a thing to bring this change ourselves. We can not even bring ourselves to an understanding of grace on our own.
I had a traumatizing experience last June, and spent the better part of the past six months dissociated, confused, angry, and deeply insecure. All I could do was try not to isolate myself, even if I could barely form a sure sentence, and be tender with my body, letting whatever good in that I knew. Jesus came to my yoga classes. He understood I had to put the words away and fill my lungs with lavender. He played a lot of cards with me, showed me music that gave purpose to pain. He got on his knees with me when I wept at church. He was with me when I could only see what happened and with me when I saw why, what part I had in it, and how I could move forward. He is a good friend. The best friend one could ever have, with infinite capacity to meet our needs. Asking for his help--as a need and not a christian expectation--is a posture that I've prayed a long time for. He says yes every time.
I know this post is long, and I don't have an ultimate point, but when you feel like you're touching what Life really is, you can't help but overflow.
"I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God." (Ephesians 3:16-19)
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