"Hello," she says, softly re-entering a world she left a year ago.
Who knows what tickle, deep inside, led me to the computer early this morning, and to my blog. I grinned at seeing the date on the "most recent" post: exactly one year ago today. Who knows what other tickle led me to spend the next several hours traveling backwards through the past 4 1/2 years, courtesy of reading every single one of over 150 posts. [
and who knows what tickle leads me to drop in pictures of artjournaling pages done recently]
Miracle #1: Reviewing those posts and the landscape of life they traversed, I didn't cry, not even once. Didn't even choke back tears, even after reading of so much heartbreak. So much walking/falling/struggling/falling again/and walking, again.
Miracle #2: I fell in love, all over again, with sweet Maureen (sub-miracle #2A: I feel almost okay with posting that here, publicly.) Bless her dear raggedystrong heart, she is soooooooooo committed to love. She just never gives up, even when it might be wiser to do so. Even when being committed to loving brings her way too close to needing to be committed. (I
think that was a joke.)
Miracle #3: Oh, so much beauty captured in those posts . . . in that life. Through photos of gardens planted and tended, of forays out into the larger world. Through painting word pictures. Through painting without words, when words weren't enough.
Miracle #unnumberable: I read snippets from these past 4 years, telling of such brave beginnings and continuings of Projects designed to free my house, my life, my soul from a crippling past. Many of the sentences written years ago, outlining oh-so-determined efforts to unclutter, to heal, to progress, sound as if they describe my now. For half a breath I am tempted to crash in despair, to the tune of "Good grief, have I made NO progress at all??" But that scant half-a-breath is nothing compared to the deeply deep inhale/exhale of "Oh my precious beloved Maureen, you have stepped out of that story. The mud of The Past no longer clumps over your feet, weighting every step. You are living in the radiant presence of Infinite Love, in the endless embrace of the God Who breathes you into fresh vibrance every moment of every blessed day."
Today, as yet one more day of gray rain rejuices my town while my heart yearns for sun's warmth, I celebrate the bright and glowing knowing that I have indeed been reborn. I have traded history for His Story. Past mortal events no longer define me. Neither does all The Stuff around me that I am still sorting through. Yes, I still dream of, hope for, and work toward a time when my physical space is all bright and new and supportive, free of obstacles to living characterized by light and love.
But under it all, and separate from my surroundings, I know more surely than ever before, that I am God's dearly beloved. Have always been. Will always be.
And so are you, my dear friend.
So are you.
