So, if you know me, you know I'm a participator by nature. I like to be part of life. I don't have to be in charge, but I want to play at the things that interest and intrigue me. At this, shall we say, mature time of my life, I am focusing on participating on things spiritual and things sewing/quilting. These keep me really busy.
This week and this week-end have been a full example of participation. Not forgetting the busy rest of the week, I just want to mention briefly the week-end. Yesterday I took an all day class through our quilt guild, taught by Shelley Swanland, on a new to me technique. It is really different, involves folding and lots of accuracy. I had to focus like a laser. When I got home, I was exhausted --- good tired and beyond. I really dislike the reduced stamina that seems to stalk me. Today was church with lots of participation during and after plus a home visit taking the Eucharist. I love it all.
I finished the Lenten Prayer Journal, printed copies to hand out at church for Lent and sent it off to be looked at by a publisher. The new book I'm writing is coming along pretty well too.
In the quiet moments I notice that there is an inner point in me still grieving. It seems like it is going forward with the grieving on its own, even while I am fully engaged in participating in life. There is a deep place that perhaps will never be quite able to reconcile the confusing absurdity of the things that have happened in my family. I just cannot seem to wrap any satisfactory understanding around it. I have released and released and released to God, yet there is a shadow, an echo ringing sorrow in my soul. Oh, the moments that are missed when estrangement happens. Memories not to be made. Explanations never made. Hugs unhugged and kisses unkissed. Never able to go back and recapture the moments. Life only moving forward. Deep sorrow grieving itself. No, life will never be the same -- was it ever? The joyous memories, were they real? Was it all theater? What happened? Will I ever know?
Nevertheless, life continues. Smile, pick up the feet and move forward, what else is there to do? God is there in it all, even though it seems clear as mud right now to my limited human eyes. Somehow, even if the intention was evil, the outcome will be good because I know I'm all right with God.
Lord, help me do my best and not be hindered by the inner grief. Help me do what You would have me do - no excuses. I'm not the only one on earth with grief. Help me rise up and live the rest of my life in the way You would want.
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