cactus, desert

Morning Has Broken

Morning has broken,
Like the first morning

It's 2:30am right now, but I feel like it's a new day.

Today I felt the difference that only the complete confession of the soul can bring. I gushed out everything for those books. Wrote until my hands cramped and I was spent physically and emotionally. Let me note for posterity that it took nine people about 40 hours over just three days for installation, which is downright ridiculous and one of the most rewarding accomplishments of my life. I couldn't have done it alone. I can't do any of this alone. It's humbling to realize it fully.

You wash the feet of the weary
Embrace the ones in need

The moment came at around 1am last night. The one I'd waited for. It was while I was writing the secret book about my Grandmother's life. I was writing and suddenly I sat back and everything just crashed in on me. All the stress, all the hurt of these past few years. The deaths in the family a year ago. The inability to change the past. And I cried, and I let myself sob for awhile. Then I went outside into the cold, a fine mist of a rain that was going to freeze settling on my face, and I prayed out loud while my tears fell and asked for renewal with the rain. I stood there and looked up into the sky and said to God, "I'm not asking you why anymore. I want to ask, but it won't change anything. So make this beautiful, because that's what you do. Bring healing and renewal and bless this show." And after that I went back in and wrote some more, but the feeling was different.

Why don't you come right out and say it
Even if the words are prob'ly gonna hurt
I'd rather have the truth than something insincere

Lent has been an interesting season for me. A lot of changes, a lot of discoveries about myself and God. It's been a good season, but rough.

I'm learning that guilt is never a good thing and learning to brush it off - that there's a difference between guilt and responsibility. I'm learning the difference between fear - never a good thing - and respect. I'm learning the difference between obedience that comes out of love and obedience that comes from coercion. I'm learning to listen through other people's ideas and accept them more readily into my system of questioning.

Today I had lunch with my Mom and Grandma, and our server was a bright and bubbly girl who was able to focus on us because they weren't very busy. We had a fun conversation about pets. My Grandma told the story of how one time my Mom had her friend Starla over and my Grandma had been serving hamburgers... Well, the dogs had been on the porch. My Grandma opened the door to yell at them and a dog whisked in and back out, and Starla's hamburgers vanished with him so fast she didn't realize it until she looked down to eat. We sat by the fountain and I felt entirely at peace with myself and my parents. This is a really great thing.

Today at home I spent some time with my dog, whose whiskers are whitening. It's been a little while since I really had time to sit. I continued reading the second half of The Shack. The line which struck me most: Grace does not need suffering to exist. It's so true, and exactly the line that encapsulates an argument I've had over and over with religious people.

In other news, my sleep schedule is all about naptimes. I'm going to have another naptime tonight and then function all day tomorrow, at which point I'll be sort of back to the proper idea of sleeping when it's dark and staying awake when the celestial fire orb is on the correct side of the planet for lighting up my continent of residence.

I miss people. Can't wait to see people at the show.

Song of the Week? Chopin's Nocturne in E minor. (Opus 72.) That's who I am this week, who I've always been. A little bit of the dark and mysterious and turbulent and intense mixed in with beauty and peace and longing for more.

In the middle of the night last night one of the caretakers came in to clean and said how much he was enjoying my music - a selection of Chopin nocturnes including three or four of my very favourite of his works. I turned it up while he worked, and he swept a little slower. The night janitors rarely run into people anywhere but the art department and sometimes the labs, I'd imagine. Mostly all the other work can be done at home.

It was that moment. The switch on the railroad track. The flowers left by the graveside of a past that died in me as I wrote it out.

I transferred my family tree to paper, and so deconstructed it.

Now I'm free
to be the one You said I could be
I'm alive 'cause You're alive in me
  • Current Mood: productive like the sun, for instance
  • Current Music: Chopin.
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