"tired of failing..."

"we pray for blessings,

we pray for peace,

comfort for family, 

protection while we sleep. 

we pray for healing, for prosperity,

and we pray for your mighty hand 

to ease our suffering; 

and all the while You hear 

each spoken need, 

yet love us way too much

to give us lesser things..."

Laura Story's incredible song, "Blessings" still fractures every splinter of ego-preservation.  And this live performance is one I cannot listen to - without having the last linch pin of all pride removed.

Here goes:  I am so tired of feeling like a spiritual failure. There, I said it. There was time when I would have been afraid that if I posted a statement like that, I would have signed my own "death" warrant as a spiritual healer. I have since learned that this is not only not the case, it is actually the opposite of what is true.

There are a few things that have, over the last few decades, become supremely clear to me:

1) when judging one's relationship with God -- according to the model propounded by a prosperity gospel culture -- Jesus, Mary Baker Eddy, Gandhi, Mandela - and almost every spiritual luminary that I admire -- is a failure.

Jesus didn't heal Judas of his betrayal, Mary Baker Eddy didn't "heal" the lawsuits filed against her by her son and closest confidants; Gandhi wasn't able to stop the violence perpetrated against his people, and Mandela didn't escape from prison.

2) Measuring one's spiritual growth by human accomplishments, achievements, and the accrual of possessions is, at best, a false model. It takes only the most cursory reading of the gospels to discover that "things" are not indicators of God's love for us.  Otherwise, Jesus just didn't cut it -- no home, no camel, few possessions.

3) The spiritual can only be seen and experienced spiritually.  It is one thing to know the spiritual nature of "home," it is quite another to equate that knowing with bricks, mortar, mortgages, and deeds.  I keep coming back to "I have a body, I am not my body."  And in kind, "I have a house, my sense of home is not validated by a house."

Having once lived in a small spiritual community -- where everyone thought they knew what was absolutely and  unequivocally true for everyone else -- I discovered that although spiritual cultures grow out of a common love for a  fundamental Truth -- they often resort to judging one another to give a false sense of structure and order to their community.

What seems to have occurred, throughout history, is that cultures do what egos - individual or collective -- always do.  They form hierarchies in order the sort their "members" into bad, good, better, best.  And in order to do that, they have to decide what practices and measures will be used to assign individual placement within those hierarchies.

Within "spiritual" cultures, most of these measuring indices are based on judging the words and behaviors of "others" in ways that that can be quickly sorted by one's compliance to culturally determined policies and rules.  Instead of temperance, we rely on abstinence.   Abstinence is easy.  Abstinence allows us to make a black or white assessment based on what we see -- or assume. We can look at someone and quickly determine if they are practicing abstinence.  In contrast, temperance is almost impossible to judge from the outside.  It is a practice that relies on self-knowledge and self-control.  It is contingent on one's relationship to an inner moral compass.  Only the person his/herself truly knows when they are being temperate in their consumption of chocolate -- vs. gluttonous or abstinent.

For example:  Imagine that your model is temperance. And the behavior in question is drinking coffee.  You walk into a restaurant and see a member of your community sitting in front of a cup of coffee.  You might even see them pick up that cup and take a sip.  Where abstinence is the model, you can immediately judge that person's compliance to the cultural "rules."  But where temperance is the model, you have no idea whether it is their first or fifteenth cup of coffee.  You can only trust that there is divine sovereignty governing their every choice.  You greet them, smile, and turn to your own practice of what is right - for you!

It is relevant here to note, that in her definition of the word "Moral." on page 115 of Science and Health with Key the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy lists these qualities of thought, word, and action:

"Humanity, honesty, affection,
faith, hope, compassion,
meekness, temperance."

But cultures resist accepting these qualities as the true standard of free moral agency.  Primarily because they cannot be measured from the outside -- only from within the sanctuary of one's relationship with the divine. Not having an easy measuring stick for where someone fits, is frustrating to cultures that thrive on hierarchies of behavior to determine place and power, achievement or failure. How do you know if you are better than someone else, if you can't decide how good (or bad) they are.  Cultures feed on comparisons.

Now let's take it a little further -- with an experience I had some years ago.

Being in the public practice of spiritual healing is humble work.  Our daughters were navigating the twists and turns of a community -- one that truly believed it had established its standards - for judging one another - on Jesus' teachings.

An opportunity to participate in an activity was presented to the girls.  But it was one that was costly.  The girls were concerned that the expense was more than our modest family budget could absorb. We prayed about how to proceed. When they were asked if they would be participating, they said, "probably not, this might be too much for our family."  The person in charge of the activity said -- without hesitation:  "Then your parents might want to pray more diligently about how to demonstrate the supply necessary for you to go."

There was no recognition that our daughters had prayed, and that they had been given the humility and grace to say "no," to the invitation, and that they were bringing remarkable courage to the moment.  There was little appreciation that this was an opportunity for "growth in grace' -- one that far-outweighed the activity in question. There was no acknowledgment that our family was demonstrating abundance -- in how we shared our resources and lived simply -- a lifestyle that honored our highest reading of scripture.

What if, as Laura sings, our blessings come as tears -- not peals of laughter.  What if our healing comes in the form of a deeper peace, rather than the "fixing" of a human situation that we have deemed as a spiritual failure.  What if, what society measures as a failure is actually the highest achievement in Christ -- the opportunity for growth in humility, patience, meekness, charity, forgiveness.

I am reminded of another statement that Mary Baker Eddy makes in Science and Health:

"Our disappointments and ceaseless woes,
turn us like tired children to the arms of divine Love,
then we begin to learn life in divine Science."

What if, our disappointments and ceaseless woes are not an indication of our failure to understand the Science of Being, but are actually the starting point for learning deeper lessons of spiritual consciousness -- the impartial and universal law of Love.

I refuse to let a false measure of what constitutes life in divine Science, make me feel like a failure any more.  I demonstrate my love for God, by my love for God -- not in any other way.  I demonstrate my understanding of Life through my moment-by-moment trust in the eternality of consciousness, not by more human days spent in this particular chapter of my eternal story.

I refuse to let the measuring stick of a culture - any culture - tell me anything about the strength of my relationship with God. This human experience is just a laboratory. It is not my "home." And at the end of any day spent in this laboratory, I return to my "home" -- my consciousness of Love.  It is here that I am loved and nurtured - impartially and universally. This is where the only true measure of my worth is found in the eyes of my first Love -- my Father-Mother God. Here I am enough. And that is enough for me.

offered with Love,

Kate

"He will not let go…"

"what lies ahead,
I'm not sure I know.
But the hands that holds,
this flailing soul,
He will not let go..."

Blinding pain ripped through my body like a bolt of lightning. In that moment, I didn't know what to think, or how to think. When it retreated, and darkness came again, it was like slipping beneath the surface of a cool dark pond. And I surrendered.

Until it came again. A screaming. A crashing. Something sharp and raw that shattered me into a million shards of pain and fear. All I wanted to do was let go and slip into oblivion. "Yes, that's right. Go ahead, and just let go," it whispered in a taunting hiss. And I considered it.  That was until I realized that even if I were to completely give up, give in, and let go, "He Will Not Let Go." of me.

I love this beautiful song by one of my favorite inspirational recording artists, Laura Story. Her music is so honest and simple that it takes my breath away.

There have been moments in my life when I've felt like giving up on my own ability to hold on. Times when the hurt was so deep, or the hopelessness so unfathomable, that looking beyond a single step felt impossible.

I remember that night - quite a few years ago now -- when the above-referenced pain was unbearable. Living with it seemed too much to bear.  Each minute felt like an eternity. Each tick of the bedside clock was torturous. As I lay there, it occurred to me that I could just give up, let go, and slip away. It would be so easy. The thought of it was so tempting.

But it was at this very moment, that I felt the presence of something profoundly clear. The thought came, "As if! As if your willingness to let go, would change the fact that I love you, and that I am holding on to you. You are the very manifestation of Me, as Life. I will not let go."

This single thought woke me up from the lie of self-determinism. It wrested from my grip, the false notion that I was in charge of my life. That it was mine to sustain, to choose, or to throw away. I realized that I had absolutely no power to make that choice. God had all the power, and He was holding on to me. He would never let go.

With the realization that I was powerless to give up, the pain began to retreat. It no longer had the authority I'd given it.  I no longer believed it could inform me about whether to hold on, or to give up and let go.  It was a decision that I'd always thought was mine to make. But the fact was, I was here, I was conscious. I still loved my children. I could still be grateful. I was still able to appreciate beauty.  Suddenly, I was no longer paralyzed by the pain and fear.  I was enveloped in an undeniable truth -- Life was insisting Itself as conscious existence - as me.

I asked myself, "In all your life, have you ever actually been aware of being unconscious?" I had to admit, I'd never experienced the kind of deep blackness.  I'd never existed without an awareness of "I AM" -- which was the very thing that I was so fearful of.  It was what I thought pain was a precursor to.  But in fact, every night I'd peacefully yielded to sleep -- without any fear of never waking up again or being relegated to a dark mental abyss. And every day, I woke up feeling a sense of uninterrupted being.

I had always been held -- deeply and inextricably held -- intact, in perfection, in grace, in consciousness. Life had never let go of me. And whether I was holding on or not, I was being held.

The pain that had terrorized me, lost its power to inform or alarm me when I realized that it could not carry out its threat. My life was in the hands of God.  My awareness of being was under the sovereignty of Mind. My right to love, to be grateful, to pray and to bless was intact.

I've been grateful for two statements - in particular - from the writings of Mary Baker Eddy, when acute or chronic pain has threatened to hold a deeper, darker meaning:

"No evidence before the material senses
can close my eyes to the scientific proof
that God, good, is supreme."

"Spirit’s senses are without pain,
and they are forever at peace.
Nothing can hide from them
the harmony of all things
and the might and permanence of Truth." 

Nothing can hide from me an awareness of God's tender hold on my life. Nothing can close my eyes to the love of my divine Parent. He will never let go.

While searching for a photo to illustrate this piece, I came across dozens of photos of us holding our daughters when they were babies.  And an online search turned up hundreds of photos of mothers and fathers holding their infants. They all looked so beautiful -- so full of tenderness, strength, and love.

Then I looked at the same photos, but imagined the parent out of the picture. The babies looked vulnerable, their positions awkward, their bodies small and fragile. It was exactly how I felt that night -- like a flailing, unsupported naked being exposed to the unknown.  Knowing that God was always there, holding me, changed everything that night -- from paralyzing fear to feeling that I was nestled in my Father's arms.  Held in a deep and abiding relationship with my divine Parent.

Whatever you might be facing, you are not facing it alone. God is holding you in perfect peace, in eternal Life, in tender love. He will not let go.

offered with Love,

Kate

"In this time of trial..."

In this time of trial,
pain that no one sees...
Trust me when I say,
that I will give you perfect peace...

...and though I may not
calm the storms around you
you can hide in me..."

I was sitting on the front steps this evening, watching a storm cloud drift, and fleck, and soften, and reform...and I couldn't help but think of Jesus' evening in Calvary when the earth shook. It touched me deeply tonight. My son hasn't been crucified, my best friend isn't asking me to take care of his mother from the summit of the cross, the man I've followed faithfully through the desert is not giving up his life so that I might trust God more completely... no, my evening looks benign. It would seem to be filled with sweetness...the promise of soft rain and spring flowers.

But I feel the power of this story with all my heart. I can't seem to leave it in "the books" where I know the last chapter...resurrection, redemption, ascension. That will come later. This evening, I want to let the Calvary story give context to the fulfilled promise. I want to watch with his mother, weep with the Magdalene, and hope with John. I want to stand in the space of "unknowing" and pray that there is more to the story than a cross. I want to be reminded that for every Calvary, there is a Bethany. For every tear, there is "full compensation." Here is a post from last spring that whispers what is in my heart tonight. Have a wonderful Easter...

I love Laura Story's "Perfect Peace," because of the forgiveness and compassion it represents to me.  There are have been so many times in my life when I have felt like such a failure...berated myself for not having prayed "hard enough."  So many long nights when I have thought that if only I had prayed sooner, longer, better I would not have experienced whatever storm I was going through. 

But this song reflects what I have come to believe with my entire being.  That just because I am expereincing a storm, it doesn't mean that there is something out of divine order. 

In fact, in his parable of the house built on the sand/rock, Jesus helped his disciples (and all of us) see that both houses...the one built of the sand and the one built on the rock...are beset by winds, waves, and storms.  The difference is not in the occurrence of the storm, but how well the house withstands the foul weather. 

The house built on the rock survives.  The house built on the sand...falls.  But both houses are under siege.  Jesus' crucifixion was not a measure of his ability to pray himself free from the cross...it was a demonstration of his absolute trust in his Father's love for him.

Yet how often have I given up on my prayerful self because I think, "Well, if I can't forestall the storm, I must not be praying 'right'...right?"  And since my prayer is the "voice" of God to me, I must not really know what God sounds like..."  Sigh.  Such a looser...

No!!

Not any more than Jesus' time on the cross was an indication that he didn't hear God's message of how to escape his storms and trials. Or that his mother and friends weren't praying effectively enough to discover an inspired way to help him escape his "exalting ordeal."

Our storm are poignant opportunities for strengthening our sea legs.  Each storm makes me a better sailor.  And each storm better prepares me to model a more consistent calm, when the next storm hits...whether it is my house, or someone else's.

And right there, standing on bedrock, with my toes dug in deeply through the surging surf and shifting sand of self-doubt, fear, and uncertainty, I can feel that "perfect peace" that Laura sings about, and that Jesus encouraged us to find, through his example on the cross. 

Laura and her husband Martin, are both deeply committed spiritual thinkers who faced a hurricane-like storm when Martin was diagnosed with a life-threatening illness.  This storm, rather than shake their faith, has strengthened them spiritually individually, and as a family.   I am so moved by her willingness to share her expereince through this song. 

May you, too, find "perfect peace," in the midst of each exalting ordeal, and earth-shaking storm...

with Love,

Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

"what if your healing comes through tears..."

"Cause what if your blessings
come through raindrops?
What if your healing comes through tears?
And what if a thousand sleepless nights,
are what it takes to know You're near?"

As I was sorting through some bits of notebook paper, newsprint, old greeting cards, and calendar pages in my quote collection this morning, I came upon this tiny gem. Someone had shared it with me along the way:

"A bad day for your ego,
is a great day for your soul."

I didn't need the reminder of that little piece of folded paper. It's a message I've had tattooed on my heart for the last few years. It's saved me from heartache, anger, resentment, and despair over and over again.

And yes, for the sake of clarification, I know that I don't have a personal "soul." Soul is another name for God. So, when I read the word in the context of this quote, I am thinking about the heart, the kingdom of heaven within, the consciousness of good, a God-based inner life.

Therefore, when my sense of being is defined by a "me"...an ego...that is separate from the impartial and universal good of collective humanity, then any situation I face that isn't sweet with personal success, promise, or achievement...is a bad day for my ego. But when I am looking at myself from the standpoint of being just one molecule in the body of Christ, every opportunity to humbly fall on my knees in service to others...to the whole, is a gift of grace.

What "the world" looks like from the lowly posture of humble service, is a world filled with higher, inspired, enlightened, exalted beings. When I stop looking at myself through the lens of otherness (a lens that invites comparison), or in the context of another's accomplishments (vs. my failures) all I can see is the good that is being experienced by God's blessed creation. What to me might look like a flat tire...a failure to have been more aware before getting on the road, to my neighbor might appear as an opportunity to be a good samaritan, to be at the height of his/her neighborly best. Only my ego, a separate, personal sense of being, would prevent me from seeing the presence of God's gifts in that moment.

Isn't this the Easter message? Isn't this the supreme gift of grace from a man who surrendered a personal sense of his life story with all it's drama: betrayal, crucifixion, and scorn...in order to show us the power of Love, and its capacity to heal, transform, and resurrect the heart's hope for salvation and purpose.

So, as I think considered all the ways the ego might try to undermine my ability to see the face of God, right in front of me, at all times, today...and everyday, this post from last year came to mind. Laura Story's message of surrender to grace is one I can never get enough of. A link to her own "telling" of it is at the end of this post. I hope you enjoy its resharing:

What if your blessings come through raindrops..."

My friend, Lauri, told me about this beautiful Laura Story song, "Blessings"  yesterday afternoon.  She said that it had been shared as part of her church's worship service on Sunday.  She thought that it might resonate with me.  Might?  Oh my goodness, it resonates with me very deeply...so much so, that I am almost rendered speechless. 

I'd already prepared a post for today when...after picking up the girls from soccer, getting dinner, baths, laundry, and then returning office calls...I was able to search out this song on Youtube.  From the minute I heard the first verse, that other post was put on the back burner until Thursday's sharing.   Unless something else crosses my path in the meantime...

If you have ever felt like you've prayed all night for answers, and all you've heard were more questions;  if you've slept on your knees and woke, not comforted, but with a despairing hunger that kept you there all the next day;  if your heart has shattered, and in the shards you've discovered tear-honed treasures of sea glass -- more precious than diamonds...then this song may touch you as deeply as it has reach itself into my soul tonight.  

One of my favorite statements, by Mary Baker Eddy, washesd through me, as I listened to it's powerful message:

"The very circumstance
which your suffering sense
deems wrathful and afflictive,
Love can make an angel
entertained unawares. 
Then thought gently whispers,
"Come hither..."

Love is calling us, and it is calling us closer to that very circumstance which a suffering sense...of life and being...would deem wrathful and afflictive.   Sometimes this is all I need, to stay on my knees as long as it takes, to actually feel Love's presence...right there....right there in that moment, in that place.  Because, right there...is my home.

I have typed out Laura's lyrics below...they were my prayer last night, they are my prayer today. 

Thank you Father for your blessings...especially the ones that come through raindrops and tears...

"We pray for blessings.
We pray for peace.
Comfort for family,
protection while we sleep.
We pray for healing,
for prosperity.
We pray for Your mighty hand,
to ease our suffering.

All the while,
You hear each spoken need.
Yet love is way too much,
to give us lesser things.

'Cause what if your blessings
come through raindrops?
What if Your healing
comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights
are what it takes to know You're near?

What if trials of this life,
are Your mercies in disguise?

We pray for wisdom,
Your voice to hear.
We cry in anger,
when we cannot feel You near.

We doubt your goodness.
We doubt your love.
As if every promise,
from Your Word is not enough.

All the while,
You hear each desperate plea,
and long that we'd have faith to believe.

'Cause what if your blessings
come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights,
are what it takes to know You're near?

When friends betray us.
When darkness seems to win.
We know that pain reminds this heart,
that this is not, this is not our home.
It's not our home....

'Cause what if your blessings
come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You're near?

What if my greatest disappointments,
or the aching of this life,
Is the revealing of
a greater thirst this world can't satisfy?
What if trials of this life...
the rain, the storms, the hardest nights...
are your mercies in disguise?"

This message embraces the sweetness of a salvation-based spiritual journey...one that weeps with Christ in Gethsemane, stands with him...braced by love...for the kiss, walks with him through jeering crowds, watches with his mother at the cross, and rises early...wrapped in the fragrance of sweet spices...to find the promise in a tomb. For me, this is a song of Easter...of deathless hope, and resurrected joy. Not in spite of our trials, but within the folds of the burial cloth...to discover the perfume of Life.

Here is a video clip of Laura Story explaining the impetus for her journey in writing  this song...blessings to you and yours.    Thanks Lauri, for sharing this song with me...you were right, I love it...

with Love,

Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

"and now You gently break me..."

"My heart is so proud.
My mind is so unfocused.
I see the things You do through me,
as great things I have done.
And now, You gently break me,
then lovingly You take me
and hold me as my Father
and mold me as my Maker...."

Maria sent me this Youtube clip of Laura Story's "Grace," the other day.  Thank you.  I love it and have thought about the first verse over and over again.   Of how easy it is for the spiritual servant to forget.  And how immediately her Father steps in to realign her sense of being, with His power...and the gift of grace.

I couldn't help but think of Christ's reference to himself as "the bread."  I love baking bread.  In fact, it hapens to be one of my favorite things to do.  But do I bake much bread these days...nope.   Bread takes devotion, focus, care.  Can you make quick, auto-pilot bread?  Sure.  Breadmakers and frozen dough have made the scent of freshly baking loaves of sourdough, or crusty loaves of wheat bread ubiquitous.  But for me, bread baking is more about the baking, than the bread.

I love it all.  The dissolving cake of yeast in warm milk, a pile of whole grain flours on a marble slab waiting to accept yeast, milk, egg, etc..  I love the waiting, the kneading, the rising up...and the punching down.  I love each step of the process and when I reach the final forming of the loaf for the oven...I feel like a mother.

Pulling a golden, grainy loaf of seeded bread from the hot oven has only one end....sharing it.   That constitutes one amazing day of total attentiveness. 

So, as I listened to this Laura Story song about "grace" I thought about myself as bread. 

You know, I had one pretty great, amazing, wonder-filled summer.   If I hadn't had more than twenty of them, I might have gotten caught up in thinking my great summer had something to do with a "great" me.  Not!!

But God loves me so, so, soooo much.  And I welcome his attentiveness to my spiritual rising.  So, I am never alarmed when I feel him breaking me....it's necessary for the baking of a beautiful loaf of bread. One of my favorite parts of bread baking is watching that first rising.  You've mixing your ingredients, the dough is now a perfect consistency, you feel its weight in our hands, form it into a lovely ball, tuck under all the edges, place it back in the oiled bread bowl, cover it with a lovely blue and white checked cotton towel...and wait. 

It will puff up to more than double its size.  It will be smooth, fragrant, and beautiful.  And that's just when you punch it down and start manhandling it.  But this manhandling, or kneading, is necessary.  It breaks down the big, puffy, more dramatic bubbles of air, so that more consistent, smaller pockets of air can form throughout the loaf, leading to lovely slices of yummy bread.

After an early summer that rose into something big and beautiful...full of dramatic first rising bubbles, I've spent some time in the punch down, knead, and rise...punch down, knead and rise stages of my summer's more quiet late August.   But, for me, this only means that my Father is an attentive Baker, and that He loves me enough to want me to be consistent, humble, and to know the gift of grace...to know that it's all, always, been in His hands.   And besides, all that punching down, kneading, and forming means His hands have been all over my life..that's always the best feeling!!   And as for the connection between baking and Mary Baker Eddy's use of the term, "self-immolation"...well, that's for another post. 

I think there's a reason why we say "grace" before we break bread....

with Love...and hopefully, more grace... 

Kate

"I will give you perfect peace..."

In this time of trial,
pain that no one sees...
Trust me when I say,
that I will give you perfect peace...

...and though I may not
calm the storms around you
you can hide in me..."

I love Laura Story's "Perfect Peace," because of the compassion it represents to me.  There are have been so many times in my life when I have berated myself for not having prayed "hard enough."  So many long nights when I have thought that if only I had prayed sooner, longer, better I would not have experienced whatever storm I was going through. 

But this song reflects what I have come to believe with my entire being.  That just because I am expereincing a storm, it doesn't mean that there is something out of divine order. 

In fact, in his parable of the house built on the sand/rock, Jesus has helped me see that both houses...the one built of the sand and the one built on the rock...are beset by winds, waves, and storms.  The difference is not the presence of the storm, but how well the house withstands the weather. 

The house built on the rock survives.  The house built on the sand...falls.  But both houses are under siege. 

Yet how often have I given up on my prayerful self because I think, "Well, if you can't forestall the storm, you must not be praying 'right'...right?"  And since the prayer I was praying was the only one I'd been given by God, I must not really know what God sounds like..."  Sigh.  Such a looser...

No!!

The storm is a beautiful opportunity to strengthen my sea legs.  Each storm makes me a better sailor.  And each storm better prepares me to model a more consistent calm, when the next storm hits...my house or someone else's.

And right there, standing on bedrock, with my toes dug in deeply through the surf and sand, I can feel that "perfect peace" that Laura sings about.  Laura and her husband Martin, are both deeply committed spiritual thinkers who faced a hurricane-like storm when Martin was diagnosed with a life-threatening illness.  This storm, rather than shake their faith, has strengthened them spiritually individually, and as a family.   I am so moved by her willingness to share her expereince through this song. 

May you, too, find "perfect peace," in the midst of beautiful storms...

with Love,

Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

"Here is the link to a post from a few years ago, title "A House that Will Not Fall." it also explores this parable, and many of the ideas may seem like they have been re-cycled, but tonight's understanding of them is all fresh and new.  Besides that, I just love the Jonatha Brooks' song, "I Try," that it includes a link to. 

“Blessings through raindrops...”

"Cause what if your blessings
come through raindrops?
What if your healing comes through tears?
And what if a thousand sleepless nights,
are what it takes to know You're near?"
-

My friend, Lauri, told me about this beautiful Laura Story  song, "Blessings"  yesterday afternoon.  She said that it had been shared as part of her church's worship service on Sunday.  She thought that it might resonate with me.  Might?  Oh my goodness, it resonates with me very deeply -- so much so, that I was almost rendered speechless. 

I'd already prepared a post for today. I'd waited to post it after picking up the girls from soccer, getting dinner, baths, laundry, and then returning office calls. Just beforehand, though, I thought I'd listen to the song Lauri had suggested.  "It had me at hello…" From the first verse, that other post was put on the back burner.

Have you ever felt like you've prayed all night for answers, and all you've heard were more questions?  That you've slept on your knees and woke not comforted, but with an even more despairing hunger -- one that kept you waiting all the next day?  Has your your heart ever been shattered, and in the shards you've discovered tear-honed treasures of sea glass -- more precious than diamonds? Then this song may touch you as deeply as it did me. It has reached itself into the deepest place of my being, and wrung out the availing tear.  

One of my favorite statements, by Mary Baker Eddy, took tangible form for me, when I listened to Laura's powerful message.  It is from Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, and reads:

"The very circumstance
which your suffering sense
deems wrathful and afflictive,
Love can make an angel
entertained unawares. 
Then thought gently whispers,
"Come hither…"

Love is calling us closer.  Calling us closer to that very circumstance which a suffering sense -- of life and being -- would deem -- perceive -- as wrathful and afflictive.  

Sometimes, just being reminded of this promise, is all I need to "not run." To stay on my knees as long as it takes. To let the storm clouds gather. To see the lighting flash. To wait until I can actually feel the rain on my face -- feel Love's presence soaking into my being.  To fell the love of God right then and there - in that very moment, in that very place. 

My "home" is not in a space of my own imagining. I am not its builder, decorator, or protector. My home is God's. I trust His design. I trust His purpose. I trust that He occupies my "home." That He is with me. And wherever He is -- and He is everywhere, at all times -- thatis my home.

I have typed out Laura's lyrics below. They were my prayer last night. They have been my prayer today. 

Thank you Father for your blessings. Especially the ones that come through raindrops and tears...

"We pray for blessings.
We pray for peace.
Comfort for family,
protection while we sleep.
We pray for healing,
for prosperity.
We pray for Your mighty hand,
to ease our suffering.

All the while,
You hear each spoken need.
Yet love is way too much,
to give us lesser things.

'Cause what if your blessings
come through raindrops?
What if Your healing
comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights
are what it takes to know You're near?

What if trials of this life,
are Your mercies in disguise?

We pray for wisdom,
Your voice to hear.
We cry in anger,
when we cannot feel You near.

We doubt your goodness.
We doubt your love.
As if every promise,
from Your Word is not enough.

All the while,
You hear each desperate plea,
and long that we'd have faith to believe.

'Cause what if your blessings
come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights,
are what it takes to know You're near?

When friends betray us.
When darkness seems to win.
We know that pain reminds this heart,
that this is not, this is not our home.
It's not our home....

'Cause what if your blessings
come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You're near?

What if my greatest disappointments,
or the aching of this life,
Is the revealing of
a greater thirst this world can't satisfy?
What if trials of this life...
the rain, the storms, the hardest nights...
are your mercies in disguise?"

This message embraces the sweetness of a salvation-based spiritual journey. A wakefulness that weeps with Christ in Gethsemane. A trust that stands with him -- braced by Love -- expecting the kiss. An unwavering courage that  faces Pilate, walks with him through jeering crowds along the road to Calvary. A love that watches with his mother at the cross and rises early to bring him fragrant, sweet spices in the tomb -- only to find the promised resurrection.

For me, this is an Easter song. It sings of hope that is deathless. Of resurrected joy -- not in spite of our trials, but found within the Love-perfumed folds of the burial cloth. As long as we think our peace is dependent on human conditions, we are never truly at peace. To discover that God is with us on the cross, in the garden, at our breaking point -- is to know a peace that passeth understanding. A joy that none can take away.

Here is a video clip with Laura Story as she explains her journey in writing  this song. Easter blessings to you and yours.   

Thanks Lauri, for sharing this song with me. You were right, I do love it -- very, very much.

with Love,

Kate