"the story is His..."

"You are the Sun, shining down on everyone.
Light of the world, giving light to everything I see.
Beauty so brilliant, I can hardly take it in...
and everywhere You are is warmth and light.

And I am the moon with no light of my own.
Still You have made me to shine.
And as I glow in this cold dark night,
I know I can't be a light,
unless I turn my face to You..."

You probably thought I'd exhausted my Sara Groves' store of song favorites...not even close.  "You are the Sun," from her Add to the Beauty CD is a great song for dancing into spiritual realignment. 

Tonight, I've been thinking about "my story"...or in my case, "my stories."  And after a few days in which my theme has been, as Mary Baker Eddy suggests, to:

"Examine yourself,
and learn what is the affection and purpose of the heart,
for in this way only can you learn what you honestly are."

I feel sobered by what I have learned.  And, about how easy it has been for me to let my focus stray from writing His story, to writing all about me. "Kate, Kate, Kate..."  My life, my thoughts, my hurts, my dreams.  When I think about it, it all starts to sound like the teacher on the Charlie Brown specials, "blah-blah-blah, blah-blah, blah-blah..." 

I am shocked at how often I have, unwittingly, cast myself as the main character in so many stories.  Sometimes the victim, and other times the villain, then, occasionally, the hero lurking in between the lines, but I can't deny that I have been front and center...way too often.   Silly, silly Kate.  Tsk, tsk, tsk.... What the heck is she doing there as the center of her own universe?  Hmmm. Oh well, that's what egos do. Thank goodness we aren't our egos!!

So if we aren't supposed to be the main character in our stories, what role should we, could we, would we play if we put God front and center as the one, and only, "Person" our story revolves around? 

And so now, after a good long walk in the wilderness with myself, I have some clarity.  And the more I think about it, the roles I would like to see myself cast in -- more consistently -- from here on out, are as: the audience, the observer, the witness, the narrator...bit players, extras.  I may end up on the stage, now and again, with a few lines...and an occasional pratfall...but I pledge to let God be the only Star taking the bow at the end of the story. 

This is the affection and purpose of my heart.  Toso dissolve the ego (especially mine!) that God, and only God, is revealed as the main character, the All, in-all of us.  His is the story of the kingdom of heaven within our hearts.  And when God is at the center, the core, of our lives...the story is always His.   And our lines are simple, "Thy will be done."

He is the Sun...everything in my world revolves around Him.

Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

[photo credit:  Nathaniel Wilder  2010]

"Write my story..."

"So now I pray
That You would write my story
That night and day
My heart would burn for You..."
-     Air Five

One day, a few years ago I visited a dear friend in his office. He is a best selling author and I was both inspired, and fascinated, by what I discovered. Inspired as a spiritual thinker, and fascinated as a writer.

At the time, he was deeply engaged in the writing of his latest book and spread across one wall was a chart laying out every character's movements through the course of the book's timeline.  Even those characters who would only show up for one scene, the ending, or just a small skirmish in the middle of the book, had a full lifeline.  He knew where each character was... whether their name appeared on the page during that moment or not. He was invested in their character development, their life's course...what they were doing, eating, seeing...who they were loving or arguing with...regardless of their placement in the story, throughout the entire life of the story.

He was the author, and the characters in his book were fully developed, fully resourced, fully cared for by him no matter where, when, or how often they appeared in the breadth of the book's storyline,  or how "important" they appeared to be...to the reader.

Many years ago I heard a lecture by a very distinguished spiritual teacher from Australia.  During the course of his talk, he briefly referred to God as "the great Author" in our life stories.  I don't remember him elaborating on the point beyond saying that the characters in God's stories can't step off the page He has put them on, and strike out on their own.  They can't screw up (I'm sure those weren't his words), they can't decide to be something different than what the Author intended, they can't take on battles or initiate plotlines that are not in the Author's story.   I loved this way of thinking about my own life.  I was locked in God's version of my story...not my own.

Standing in my friend's office that day I could see how invested the Author is...in each of His characters.  None of His characters gets put on the shelf while other characters have exciting chapters, not one of His characters is left to languish in Chapter 3 while the hero is successfully brandishing a light saber "against the wiles of the devil" in Chapter 8.  There are no throw-away characters in our Author's divine story.   Each of us is fully developed, fully known,  and fully written in on His story wall. 

He doesn't wait for us to prove we are worth writing into the story...the fact that we are in the story at all, proves we are already known, and loved, by this Author.  He doesn't ask us to weigh in on our own potential success as a character, He doesn't wait until we leap off the page to write a really good scene for us.  He, and He alone is the "author and finisher" of our story.

When I am reading a good book, I don't wonder if the character in the story who is waiting at the bus stop has bus fare.  If he is at the bus stop, I am sure that the author has written the ability to pay the bus fare into the character's identity. If the character lives in a Manhattan loft and summers (don't you love it when seasons become verbs...my friend Kelly and I can't wait until we can authentically use "summer" and "winter" as verbs...in the first person...in our conversations...but I digress) in the Hamptons, I don't wonder if she can play her mortgage, furnish the loft, or find transportation to a tennis weekend in South Hampton...it's part and parcel to the Author's intent for the character, and he gets to write the story any way He likes.

Our Author is a good Guy.  He only writes good stories with good, well-sourced and clearly intended characters....us.

My brother was visiting yesterday and while he was here we took the time to hang a hand-painted sign on the archway into our kitchen that says..."Home is where the story begins".

Since I dwell in Him...in God...He is my "home".  Since my story dwells in the heart and the mind of The Author, I am safe and secure, sound and well-intentioned.  Every character written into this story with me is developed and sustained...word by word, line by line, chapter by chapter...by an Author who weaves a tale that is always...and only...good.  We live and move and have our being in His intent, in His Mind...we can't escape the goodness of this story...we can't climb off the page and jump into another book.  We are securely held on these pages by this Author....and He knows us.  Whether our role in a particular chapter seems (to us...or others) critical, minor, or altogether silent...He has us in Mind and never lets us go.  We live on His story wall and it's a good place to be. And in my story, He is always the Hero.

Write my story dear Father...I trust your intent for me.

Always your daughter...
Kate

"Your life story...a gift of love..."

"Carry with you maps and string, flashlights
Friends who make you sing
And stars to help you find your place
Music, hope and amazing grace…

Everybody strains to hear the sound
Of their heart's calling
Now you can write yours down
It's your life story…"
-Mary Chapin Carpenter

I sometimes wonder what difference it will make whether I write this, my life's story…or not.   Does it matter if I let a Tuesday pass without an installment…will Thursday's square on the calendar suddenly frown up at me from my Daytimer if I fail to exorcise something from the depths of my own experience.  Because that's all this is…just small snippets from the fabric of my life's story…sewn together into a patchwork quilt of songs and memories…tears and prayers.

I lost a friend I never met this past week…at least not in person.  Children's author and inspirational allegorist Madeleine L'Engle passed on before I could sit in her lap and ask her all the questions of the universe…which I hope she might have answered from the wrinkled folds of time and space she traveled in.  Her heart laid out life's lessons bare before us through her writing.  Her "voice" was magical and warm, innocent and wise…and I loved her…deeply.  A day full of sorrows could be resuscitated by just one pop into the pages of "A Circle of Quiet", or "A Swiftly Tilting Planet".  Her words were deeply inspiring, her characters touchable, and her worlds of wonder and delight were a retreat into hope and goodness.

"Why does anybody tell a story?" Ms. L'Engle once asked, even though she knew the answer.

"It does indeed have something to do with faith," she said, 'faith that the universe has meaning, that our little human lives are not irrelevant, that what we choose or say or do matters, matters cosmically."

I believe this is true.  Her life's story, as told through fantasy and allegory, mattered to me.  I drew fresh breath from characters who, although broken, fought the darkness and discovered threads of light so strong that it led them home.  I found comfort and solace in the hollowed out places of warmth she feathered for her characters…and her readers.  Places where the light was golden and the quilts scattered about were already soft with wear.  I could almost feel her cool fingers stroking my temples as I lay curled into myself waiting for the book to warm me.

Jesus once said, "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." I think this is what we do when we tell our stories.  When we are willing to share…whether it is through fairytale or testimony, blog or blathering…doubled up in laughter or spent with weeping…we love. 

Even if you are not writing a blog, a book, a lecture, or an article…and you have a story to tell, call me…I am always ready to be loved by someone's laying down of their life.  Or you could send it in an email to your mom, your sister, your bestest best friend…or me...I'm sure there's almost nothing we'd rather read…

You never know how it might carve out a place of comfort and healing…a space of sanctuary…in the midst of sadness, indifference, despair…or just on "a dark and stormy night"… for a weary heart.

Thank you Mama Madeleine for loving us all enough to share your stories, for sharing Mrs.Whatsit, and Meg and tesseract-ing, and teaching us that when we love intensely evil cannot stand…thank you, thank you, thank you…

"Maybe love is all anybody
Ever should believe in…
Maybe time can choose
Whether to be earthbound or to fly…
I won't worry, the truth's always been found
In your life story…"

Kate