broken, fallen, and still beautiful

So timely, it was, for my bible study lesson last week to speak about stepping out in faith. To talk about how the Israelites, in order to obtain freedom, had to step out into the teeming red sea, in order for God to unleash His almighty power, and part the raging waters. How timely it was to learn how the priests had to step out into the Jordan, in complete faith and trust, before God rolled back the waters, until they could see their feet on dry ground. This was eye opening to me, as I think I have been waiting in faith, in the same spot for years. Waiting with no movement. Prayer with no action. I think I have been trying to keep myself as safe as possible, while calling it faith, waiting in fear for God to make that first move.

I have been...and perhaps you have been too...avoiding that step. Be it a river before you, a small puddle, or a giant ocean. I think, and of course I could be wrong, as I often am, but still, I think that we all have that one "step out in faith" that we simply do not have the strength or courage to take.

Because what if the waters do not part?

And so I took that step, I will have you know, and the details are not important, nor are they mine to share, but I am going to be honest....maybe some of the water has parted, but quite frankly, I do not see the dry ground. I see more ocean. And I am standing with what feels like the water rising up to my neck asking, when does this get better, Lord? I see myself nearly drowning telling Jesus, What the heck? I stepped out...I did it....now part the freaking waters, already!

And yet this morning, I read that the Apostles did not ask when. Nor did they ask why or how. But what they did ask was, Please Lord, increase our faith. They asked for more faith.

Good grief, it is not easy to do. I mean clearly, it is not easy, because, come on... the Apostles were Jesus's original boy band...they were with Him...they saw miracles happen right in front of them. So if they have to ask for more faith? Well, yeah...I suppose my asking for more faith isn't that crazy. But crazy is not the issue. HARD is the issue. When push comes to shove, can we just all admit, that life is hard. When you are overwhelmed to the point that you drive down a one way street the wrong way, and you let the dog out for a minute and leave him out there for an hour because you forgot you had a dog, and when you drive a route you drive everyday and find yourself forgetting how to get there, and when you can not eat for days because the thought of filling that emptiness within somehow feels like a betrayal, well....it is hard in these stuck places to ask for more of anything, let alone faith, when truly all you want to know is why the Divine Healer is slacking on his job, and were all of these whispered and sorrowful prayers even worth it?

Because what if the waters do not part?

But when the silence is welcomed around me, and I can sit with my all over the place thoughts, I do recognize that HARD is really another word for FEAR, and FEAR is really another word for lack of FAITH. And that yes. Absolutely. A life without faith is scary and hard.

Last night in bed, with a glass of wine, I prayed Our Lady of Sorrows Rosary. Nick had bought me the sorrowful rosary beads, oh gosh, I want to say over five years ago. He thought they were standard rosary beads. He said he grabbed these "by accident". So I googled the prayers, and I grabbed the accidental beads that were so obviously meant for right now and not accidental in the least, and in my bed, with the wine.....I felt .... possibility. In my bed, with those beads, I could see that maybe there was good in this. With those beads in my hands, I could feel the waters desire to part....eventually.

Our Lady of Sorrows Rosary focuses on the seven sorrows of Mary's life. I think I went through so much of my surface faith life thinking that because Mary was without sin, life was easy. Like, she had some super power that made her not feel like actual mothers feel. And that because well, her son was God...it was all going to be okay, and probably, most likely, her pain really wasn't like our pain. Because she had messengers and angels and because her Son was the ultimate good boy and she knew He would rise, and really, Joseph was the perfect husband, who barely said a word....well, her sorrow was not as intense as mine or yours. Have you ever fallen into that trap of thinking? Just say yes, please, so that I don't feel stupid.

All of the seven sorrows are so relatable and touched me deeply, but the one that pressed hard upon my heart and really got me pondering was the flight to Egypt. Because as you know, I have sort of been questioning God's timing...His awful, hideous timing that I know, I know...is "perfect". Yeah, whatever. It so does not feel perfect. And so when I walked with Mary through these sorrows, I was struck by God's "perfect" timing in her life. Timing that...well, I am sorry to say...really sucked. And it got my mind to considering all of Mary's life, as I know it.

You are a young teen with dreams of your own and now, you are with child?? Bad timing.

You are so pregnant, but you need to go to Bethlehem now to deal with the taxes, so time to hop on this donkey? Horrible timing, what are the chances?

You are about to give birth...and there is not one available, cozy room for you to go into labor? No labor snack for Joseph? No music to play? No hot tub to rest in? Are you kidding me?

You have a newborn, it is the middle of the night, and you have to get up, and flee, because someone wants to kill your newborn baby son? And as you run away, you know that other mothers are losing their children...all because of your baby? No words for that one.

And I could go on, but honestly, do I have to? I think we all get the point. I think we all know how it ends. I think we all know how Mary stood. But more importantly, the peace I fell asleep in last night was the knowing that our desire for comfort, our desire for perfect timing, has the terrible ability to thwart God's plans. What if Mary said no? What if Mary did not get on that donkey? What if Mary refused to run? And you have to wonder...what good plan am I missing out on because I am too afraid to say YES to God, to step out into the ocean, because I believe in myself more than I believe in Him?

If God's timing was inconvenient (and that is putting it kindly) for Mary, the Mother of His Son, why would it be any less so for me? And so maybe the trick here (because yes, sometimes I really believe we have to trick ourselves into thinking better thoughts) is not to dwell on Gods seemingly crappy timing, and not to dwell on the fact that we took that step out and are still surrounded by raging waters, but rather...to feel every bit of the awfulness with our heavenly Mother...to unite every stress and sorrow to that of Christ's own suffering...and to grow in patience as we await what we already know is a good ending. That He only hung for three hours. That He did indeed rise. That the red sea, did in fact, part. That the Jordan, as we know to be true, was indeed rolled back. That our almighty, and powerful God, will part the waters. In His time.

I know that dry ground is out there. I would like that to be today. But it very well might not be. And so I will do two things today. I will stay close to Mary. Like super, crazy, annoyingly so, close. And I will ask the Lord to increase my faith. And I will stay right where I am, in the midst of the raging waters, not focusing on the waves, but keeping my eyes on Jesus, whose hand is stretched out, just waiting for the perfect time to pull me up, pull us out, and place us gently on safe, dry ground. And I will drive down one way streets the correct way.

I think about this day to come. And often, it feels like any moment just as it feels like never. And I imagine it will feel a bit like Easter. Be it here on earth, or at the heavenly banquet....that is up to God. But regardless of where, how, why or when...I can honestly say that the brokenness in humanity that I witnessed this weekend is so embedded in my mind, so heavy on my heart, that if all I was meant to gain from this mess was a few more faces to pray fervently for, a few more stretched out inches of compassion in my heart, then perhaps that would be gain enough for me. We can allow our sorrow to close us up and harden our hearts, or we can embrace it and let it penetrate us, opening our eyes and hearts to the true meaning of this hard life; allowing new wells of love for our neighbor to be dug in the most unexpected ways. My heart grew wide, was painfully pulled apart in these last few days, and for that, I am grateful. There is more space for love. And as I leash the dog and walk him past the waters, where a once healthy and strong tree used to stand, but has lost its battle with nature and now rests upon the water....I can see that even broken, and fallen, that tree has a reflection. That even broken, and fallen, that tree is still beautiful.