"deeper, and deeper - still..."

"Every valley

made me lift my eyes up, 

Every burden 

only made me stronger,

Every sorrow

only made your joy 

go deeper and deeper,

deeper and deeper..." 

Today in Sunday School I was blessed to have six visitors from Adventure Unlimited's Compass program.  Their mid-year retreat was being held at the ranches and they came into town for church.  I was so happy - since my normally bursting class of Link School students were in Peru this month for their expedition. 

Since we are a class of high school juniors and seniors, it didn't surprise me that our spiritual discussion circled back to college.  Since one of our class charters is: "what happens in Sunday School, stays in Sunday School" -- we never share what anyone else has said during class.  This provides a safe space for speaking our hearts.  So, I will not share anyone else's comments here -- only my own.  

When I got home - after Sunday School - I wondered if I'd ever written a post about an experience I'd had in high school -- and one that I shared with the class today.  I searched and found I hadn't.  And because every experience has to have a song - here is Meredith Andrews' "Deeper" to kick things off.  It reminds me to use the noise, in order to find the silence.  

During my junior and senior years of high school I was obsessed with getting good grades so that I could get away from the smallness of my life.  Our family of ten lived in a tiny house before tiny houses were even a "thing." It was a 1,000 square foot carriage house on a beautiful estate.  But it was tiny.  The first floor was 20' by 25' and the second floor was the same size, but under the eaves -- and right in the middle was a wide staircase that took up even more floor space on both levels.  I shared a long narrow bedroom with my four younger sisters.  

With two adults, two in high school, two in middle school, two in elementary school, and infant twins, it was less than 100 square feet (10 feet by 10 feet) for each person.  Thanks to my parents' compulsion for tidiness and their mutual disdain for clutter -- it was actually quite charming and livable.  But there were times when the noise was unbearable for me.  I loved stillness, quiet, solitude -- I still do.  

Because we lived in a rural community and I didn't drive, going to the library or a coffeehouse was not an option.  In the winter months I couldn't even escape outside.  I was stuck in the house with giggling girls, crying babies, and arguing middle schoolers.  

My junior and senior years were all about grades.  Grades and SAT scores.  I spent every lunch hour in the library and stayed after school whenever I didn't have to work or babysit my siblings.  But there were still many nights when I finished doing dishes and had piles of homework to tackle or studying to do - before I went to bed.  

So, after the kitchen table was cleared, I would stack up my books, lay out my papers, and get to work.  I loved studying.  Some things never change!  But most nights, the chatter and pre-bedtime noise in our house was cacophonous.

One night I couldn't take it anymore.  I went to my mom and told her that I had a very big exam the next day, and still had to prepare for a college placement test that had me a bit rattled.  I told her that she needed to make everyone be quiet so that I could study.  

She looked at me like I were a tad insane.  She said, "this is your life and you need to figure out how to do this."  I knew she meant that nothing was going to change -- I needed to change my expectations and my approach to the problem.  

I went back to the kitchen table and put my head in my hands and closed my eyes.  The noise seemed louder than ever.  There were two thoughts that came to me.  

One was that I had everything I needed because the kingdom of God was within me and so everything God was, I included.  There was an infinite well of intelligence, wisdom, grace, patience within me.  I just needed to go deep and draw upon it.  

And the second was more of a feeling.  As I sat there in the cacophony of my family's living, I let myself hear the noise and then I let that noise boomerang me back - like a rubber band - deeper within myself.  The edge of the noise became a bubble of stillness for me to retreat into.  The louder the noise, the deeper I would go within -- to find my core stillness.  

That became my "space" of focus and clarity.  To this day, when I need to find a place of transfixed focus, I will go to a coffeehouse or a bustling cafe and let the chatter and ambient "noise" drive me deeper, and deeper, and deeper still.  

In that place I feel completely at one with all the intelligence of the universe.  In that place I am able to draw upon all wisdom of the ages.  In that place I feel as wise as Solomon because I was drawing on the same infinite well of divine intelligence. 

I did well in high school.  

When my dad was killed - not long after I graduated - it was my choice to respond in a way that felt wise and responsible to me.  I never doubted my access to the infinite well of intelligence, just because my educational path took a unexpected turn.  I always knew where to go to access an infinite source wisdom -- and I knew how to get there.

We are told that our path in life is defined by our circumstances.  By chance and choice -- often the choices of others.  I felt that way - many times - as a child.  As if my parents' decision to have ten children pre-determined my path in life.  As if my dad's decision to leave for work 5 minutes early put him in harms way on a rural road and changed the course of my life.  But that thinking,  gets us absolutely nowhere fast.  

It casts us as victims of circumstance -- borne blindly by chance, or the choice of others.  We are not. We are divinely sent into every moment of our lives for a holy purpose -- and that purpose is to know God more deeply and trust Him more humbly. 

The noise I grew up with as a child, made me reach deep within -- for the stillness of a quiet heart.  The detours I took - as I pursued my desire for learning - made me an insatiable lifelong student, rather than a college coed on a traditional four-year plan. 

Every day, we are given countless opportunities to either feel like victims of our circumstances, or hungry children seeking a deeper stillness, a holier trust, a higher goal -- to know how to reach the kingdom of God within us.  It is only there -- in this quiet kingdom -- that everything makes sense.  

offered with Love, 

Kate