October 19, 2011
I was going back over some of my old "Looking for Answers" posts. My focus was on editing and compiling them for a book, but I had trouble separating myself from the writing. I became wrapped up in the places and times again. I couldn't help but think that it's been a year since I've been writing these posts. I've done my best to testify to what I've seen and shared my reflections of what I think it means.
It's been a deep and challenging process that I hope has helped a few people and made me a little bit better person. Yet still, I think about how far I have to go and it's demoralizing. I still lose my focus and become overwhelmed by daily realities. Some days it feels easier to sin that to breathe. Too many testaments to the wisdom of Mark Nepo's words, "Stay alive and you will be hurt, and you will also hurt others."
The personal harangue is interrupted by Fiona, my oldest daughter, crying and calling "Daddy" from upstairs.
I climb the stairs and enter the girls' room. Fiona is crying in her bed while her sister is fast asleep in her own bed.
"Daddy, I got sick," Fiona said. "My tummy hurts."
I pull back the covers and take her into my arms. I can feel the wet vomit on her shirt and in her hair. Fiona sobs as she pulls her little body into mine. She's disgusted by the half-digested food. I carry her into the bathroom and turn on the bathwater. Fiona continues to cry as I run the water and pull off her clothes. She doesn't calm down until after I've washed and rinsed her hair for the second time.
Within a few minutes, Fiona out of the bath and in clean clothes. I change the soiled bedding. She crawls under the covers and I search for a different pillow.
Fiona smiles as I lean down to kiss her goodnight. I know that I'll probably be back up later for another cleanup session, but for now she is at peace.
As I walk back down the stairs, I'm drawn again to the parallels between our relationship to the Divine and the relationship between a parent and a child.
Like Fiona, I can feel alone and overwhelmed by the darkness. Disgusted messes I've made and continue to make.
I know that, like Fiona, I don't have the ability to clean myself. My best efforts are required, but they will not be enough. Ephesians 2:8-9 ("For by grace you have been saved through faith, and it is not from you; it is the gift of God; it is not from works, so no one may boast.") I too call out for help.
I know somehow that call will be answered. The Divine will wash away my failings and transgressions. Ephesians 1:7. Scrubbing on my soul until I finally qualify as "holy and without blemish" enough to stand before Him. Ephesians 1:3. Then, I'll be set forward to tackle whatever "good works" the Lord has put in my path. Ephesians 2:10.
It won't take me long to make a mess of it again. But I know that, like Fiona, I'm just one cry away from a stronger hand to come and set me back upon the right path.
I was going back over some of my old "Looking for Answers" posts. My focus was on editing and compiling them for a book, but I had trouble separating myself from the writing. I became wrapped up in the places and times again. I couldn't help but think that it's been a year since I've been writing these posts. I've done my best to testify to what I've seen and shared my reflections of what I think it means.
It's been a deep and challenging process that I hope has helped a few people and made me a little bit better person. Yet still, I think about how far I have to go and it's demoralizing. I still lose my focus and become overwhelmed by daily realities. Some days it feels easier to sin that to breathe. Too many testaments to the wisdom of Mark Nepo's words, "Stay alive and you will be hurt, and you will also hurt others."
The personal harangue is interrupted by Fiona, my oldest daughter, crying and calling "Daddy" from upstairs.
I climb the stairs and enter the girls' room. Fiona is crying in her bed while her sister is fast asleep in her own bed.
"Daddy, I got sick," Fiona said. "My tummy hurts."
I pull back the covers and take her into my arms. I can feel the wet vomit on her shirt and in her hair. Fiona sobs as she pulls her little body into mine. She's disgusted by the half-digested food. I carry her into the bathroom and turn on the bathwater. Fiona continues to cry as I run the water and pull off her clothes. She doesn't calm down until after I've washed and rinsed her hair for the second time.
Within a few minutes, Fiona out of the bath and in clean clothes. I change the soiled bedding. She crawls under the covers and I search for a different pillow.
Fiona smiles as I lean down to kiss her goodnight. I know that I'll probably be back up later for another cleanup session, but for now she is at peace.
As I walk back down the stairs, I'm drawn again to the parallels between our relationship to the Divine and the relationship between a parent and a child.
Like Fiona, I can feel alone and overwhelmed by the darkness. Disgusted messes I've made and continue to make.
I know that, like Fiona, I don't have the ability to clean myself. My best efforts are required, but they will not be enough. Ephesians 2:8-9 ("For by grace you have been saved through faith, and it is not from you; it is the gift of God; it is not from works, so no one may boast.") I too call out for help.
I know somehow that call will be answered. The Divine will wash away my failings and transgressions. Ephesians 1:7. Scrubbing on my soul until I finally qualify as "holy and without blemish" enough to stand before Him. Ephesians 1:3. Then, I'll be set forward to tackle whatever "good works" the Lord has put in my path. Ephesians 2:10.
It won't take me long to make a mess of it again. But I know that, like Fiona, I'm just one cry away from a stronger hand to come and set me back upon the right path.
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