Grief

The drawer of grief
spilled its contents upon my soul,
flooding me with
absence --
leaving me
awash in emptiness,
sorrow --
buried beneath feelings
that have no voice,
and mourning
that has no dawn.

39th

Today
I
Listened
To
Mystical
Music,
In
A
Moment
Of
Nostalgia
And
Was
Mysteriously
Moved
To
Joyous
Tears
Remembering
Intimate
Delight
Enveloped
In
Vulnerable
Openness,
Recalling
What
Has
Been --
Anticipating
That
The
Best
Is
Yet
To
Be –
Ah,
Mozart!

Hunger

There is a hunger within --

crying out,

begging,

yearning to be fed.

There is a hunger within --

searching,

longing,

pleading to be known.

There is a hunger within --

aching,

craving,

demanding to be noticed.

There is a hunger within

that needs you

to need me

to need you.

Detours

On a recent trip with my family, we ran into a couple of different detours. I'm not exactly sure, but I think -- all told -- both detours added a total of about 30 miles to our trip. Not bad on a 900 mile journey!

I tend not to like detours. They do not fit into my nice, neatly planned schedule. It is the unpredictability that makes me uncomfortable.

These particular detours, however, have afforded me the opportunity to think, not about detours while in the car, but instead about the detours of my life. There have been many -- more than I can remember, and perhaps even more than I realize.

Like most detours while on a road trip, the detours of my life have typically been met with unwelcome exclamations. Oh, no! Where will this take me? How much will this send me out of the way? How long before I will be back where I know where I am going?

But looking back -- going forward while looking in the rearview mirror -- I see that it is on the detours, or through the detours, that I have encountered and realized some of my life's richest experiences. On the detours, I have stretched, and grown, and lived.

By the detours, I have made my home -- often too briefly -- in places I never would have otherwise dwelt. On the detours, I have met people who have altered and transformed my life for the better, and for good. On the detours, my perspective has changed, and my worldview has been granted visions I never thought myself capable of seeing.

I must confess that I have not always enjoyed the detours: on the contrary. I have often railed against them, but today -- for this moment, at least -- I can honestly say that I am grateful for many of the detours I have encountered. They have sent me off the anticipated path of predictability, out into my own forested, uncharted wilderness, and driven me to seek earnestly, trust completely, and live deeply.

I wonder what I will think the next time the detour sign stands as a sentinel beside my Emmaus road...

On Callings and Cloisters

Funny how words change over time, how contextual they are -- defined by space, experience, culture, situation and location.

When I was a child, I would often hear my farmer-father calling out to his sheep to bring them home at twlight. My sister and I could readily be heard calling out to our beloved dog, drawing him to our side. My mother's voice -- at meal times especially -- was as a hearld, calling out to gather us in.

Voices calling out meant good things --
serenity
peace
comfort.

As a young teenager, I wrestled with another voice calling out to me. Thirty years later, I still do.

This voice is not alwasy so predictable -
or perhaps it is.

At times it frightens me, causes me to doubt and overwhelms me with a desire to flee.

At other times, it fills me with confidence and certainty -- too much so at times -- bordering on arrogance -- puffed up in my own self-importance.

And at still other times, this voice sends me deep into the receses of myself --
into the I that is me --
in introspection,
humility,
and quiet reserve.

It is a voice calling me toward something,
into something,
away from everything --
beyond the cloistered boundaries of my soul.

By it, I am called.
Through it, I am called out.
Under it, I am set free to call forth myself.

Can I?
Will I?
Dare I?

It is the voice God --
calling out to me to be.

Will you let me?

Words and Roads

Is it a scenic byway
or a time-consuming detour?

An enchanting opportunity
or an irritating interruption?

An unexpected possibility
or a bewildering distraction?

What is this road that I travel?
Does it matter what I call it?
Does its name make a difference?
to it?
to me?

Mine does -- to me.

Will this road be transformed by the words that I give it?

Will I be transformed by the words by which I call it?

Will my words change my road,
or will my road change my words?

And how will roads travelling words
and words travelling roads ...
change me?

Boxes

I have packed and unpacked more boxes than I can remember. In those boxes, I have carried all sorts of things -- needed or not -- from one place to the next. The packing and unpacking have made the journey difficult. They have filled the numerous leavings with burdensome anxiety.

Will the boxes all get packed? Will there be enough boxes? Will the boxes all fit in the truck? Where will they all go when the truck needs to be unloaded? How many will remain unpacked, stacked up, sealing away trinkets and treasures, memories, hurts, pains, sorrows, stuff -- needed or not for the coming resting place, needed or not for the on-going journey?

What is it that drives me to pack it all up, carry it all with, keep it all present -- rather than leave most of it in the past or simply let it go?

If more things -- tangible or emotional -- were either discarded or given away -- would the possibilities of the road overcome the pitfalls?

If there was less, would the road become more?

Womanwords

Anxious
Byway --
Calling out
Deeply while
Entreating
Faithfulness,
Gratitude,
Hope,
Integrity, and
Justice that
Keep
Life
Moving toward
Neoteric
Openness --
Purposefully
Quieting
Righteous
Soulfulness --
Tempering
Unworthy
Victory,
Willing
eXpectancy,
Yearning toward God's life-giving
Zenith

Leavings

My life has been marked by many more leavings than I ever anticipated, imagined, or intended. It seems as though I am on a continual journey -- leaving somewhere -- leaving behind hopes and dreams, leaving behind callings and jobs, leaving behind communities and homes.

I have often said that "everything leads to something else," but I never quite expected that "everything" to be so constant -- an ever-present movement away from a known and toward an elusive unknown -- along a wandering, meandering road, dotted by momentary resting places, but not arriving at any doorstep of permanence, security, or longevity.

This road of leaving is, for me, many things. It is expectancy for what lies ahead and grief for what lies behind. It is exhilerating, and it is exhausting. It is shadows and light, hills and valleys, autumn and springtime. It is everything that is certain and all things illusory. It is a path of discovery and a trail of despair. It is where I am energized to be and the place I would most like to leave behind. It is the journey that moves me onward -- away from -- and it is the journey from which my soul yearns to rest. It is that for which I seek both meaning and deliverance, and on which I encounter God over and over again -- even when I am surrounded by the profound presence of unceasing absence.

It is my own Emmaus Road.

Come walk with me anew, Lord God. Walk with me anew.

The Emmaus Road

The Emmaus Road – most of us have walked it before … perhaps you have walked it several times in your life.

The Emmaus Road – it is the road that we walk, the road that we travel when we are searching for meaning and purpose.

The Emmaus Road – it is the trail we trod when we are trying to sort things out, discern what is to come next.

The Emmaus Road – it is the path that leads to where we are destined to be from where we have already been.

The Emmaus Road – it is the corridor that conducts us from confusion to clarity, from chaos to new creation.

The Emmaus Road – it is the road upon which we journey in this world when we are longing for a clear word from God.

The Emmaus Road – it is a road tough-trodden -- the unexpected journey with ever-unfolding hope.

Come journey with me, the Emmaus Road!