A Look Back

Photo by Jean

I remembered some things today as I looked back at my Atlantic City pictures, and I am moved to write about them, though they may not make much sense or feel like good news.  It may provide a framework for understanding some things, or it may cause more dissonance.  We see through cloudy glass. 

I was looking at the photos of me watching the sea with all the seagulls around me.  I remember feeling that they were significant at the time but I wasn't sure why, though seagulls have reminded me of angels for some time. Maybe angels are a means of connection.  I'm not sure...but I believe they are with me often.

I'm working on a book.  Well, sometimes I am--I try to write at least something every day.  Sometimes I don't know if it will ever be a book or not.  But those are days of low faith.  I half-seriously joke that I will call it "The Reluctant Prophetess."  Of course that might limit its readership.  But it is how I would describe how I often feel about myself, perhaps even more acutely during that time.

When I was walking along the beach that March, I found a huge, beautiful conch shell.  I sat down on the nearby rocks.  I knew the Lord was going to speak and I was sort of waiting in the way that you wait to hear something that will be hard to listen to.

So basically I said, "OK, Lord, what do you want to tell me."

The first thing He said clearly and simply was this, "You will always be connected." 

It came with all the weight of finality.

Before my questions and objections could arise, He quieted my spirit with a sense that I shouldn't ask more than He wanted to reveal.  And with that came a sense of peace.   

After a while He drew my attention to the shell in my hand.  I held it up to my ear.  I could hear the sea in it.  And He said, "But you will be able to put the shell down or pick it up and listen."

And then He said, "I am going to bless you."  And it was like it echoed over and over again in my ear..."Bless you, bless you, bless you, bless you."

And then He said, "Seven years."

The Lord then gave me understanding--there were decisions made even after clarity was given.  He gave me a reason why.  That explanation was more painful than anything else ever could have been.  I knew then that my wound had been chosen. But at least I knew that God had not planned this, though I believe that He did know I would walk it.  That has been hard to understand...but the Lord has granted me acceptance. 

The Lord gave me many other words over those two days, some of which I have seen come to pass since then.  I still don't think I've fully wrapped my mind around all of it. 

What I have been wrestling with over the past few months is my choice to pick up the shell or put it down. Putting down the shell feels safer.  But it doesn't feel like who I am.  It's not who I want to be.  It doesn't feel like love. Even though picking it up can get so messy. The other day, I picked it up (I keep it over at Jean's) and sand fell out of it into my ear and all over the place.  (Sorry, Jean.)  And having sand in your ear is hard to get used to.

I want to listen, to know and be known, and I want to be under the covering of the wings of the Holy Father and protected from any impurity and anything outside of the will of God.  And I think it is important to enjoy all the blessings God bestows upon us in this life, and cherish our loved ones.  But sometimes I don't know how all of those things can come together in unity.  I'd like to try to walk it.  I'd like to wait and listen and open myself to the nearness.

Today, when I remembered that He told me about always being connected, I was reminded that it was not my doing.  That has greatly settled my spirit from a false sense of responsibility.

My greatest fear is living outside the will of God while believing that I am in it.  My next greatest fear is not fully entering into all that God may offer me in this life because somehow I missed it or was afraid of it or because I made a wrong choice.  And the tension between those fears can only be settled by a God who promises to be my Shepherd.