"to be the new girl..."

“to be the new girl...”

This beautiful piece of music by Paul Collier is called,  "Alone in a Crowded Room" . There are no lyrics to reference as an epigraph.  But the emotions it evokes speak as deeply as all the right words.

I was the new girl. Always the new girl. Year after year -- the new girl. The girl who never eats lunch but lives in the library. The girl who is never without a journal and pen, so that she has someone to "talk" to. Is it a wonder that when the "devil" wants to make me feel insignificant and small, it will insinuate those feelings upon moments of self-discovery, and opportunities to be made new.

Silly devil, I am on to you -- and your tricks. I have reclaimed being "the new girl," for divine Love. Yes, I am the new girl, but I am not afraid and alone anymore. I am no longer the waif sitting in the cafeteria with my nose buried in a book -- well maybe sometimes -- but now, I am there with that book because I am learning something new about myself and the world around me. I am writing in a journal because I am discovering that the world, and the people in it, are notable.

Today, I want to be the new girl. And as uncomfortable as I know it will make me, as many difficult memories as it will trigger in me -- I embrace it. I belong here.  There is a promise here, and I am going to experience it.

To be new, is not to be afraid and alone, small and over-looked -- it is to be given the opportunity to walk away from past stories and into the light of a new version of your timeless self. And because that new girl is not yet known, it often feels like I am watching her from a safe distance. I observe her steeling herself with the courage of knowing who she is at her very core. I hear her praying in the midst of a hundred voices humming like a beehive. I watch her step away, just long enough to remember her worth.  I love her.  I love her willingness to show up in that space.

A song from our hymnal says that:

"New occasions teach new duties..."

I now welcome new occasions. They not only teach me new duties, but refresh ones that I have long-loved. I love the moment that comes just as I enter a "new space," I am the new girl, filled with fresh hope, a quiet wonder, and the certain sense that God is Love -- everywhere I go.

So, if you are in a crowded room, and you are the new girl -- embrace it. Let it truly make you new.

And if you are in a crowded room, and you are quietly observant enough to notice the new girl -- make eye contact, ask her a question, smile in passing -- you may have just discovered a caterpillar becoming a butterfly.

And when she returns from her maiden flight, she will light on you.

offered with Love,

Kate

"I have drawn thee..."

"not because of who i am,
but because of what You've done.

not because of what i've done,
but because of who You are..."

Casting Crowns'  "Who am I" found its way to the top of my mental playlist this morning.

Here's how it started. I was reading this Scripture from Jeremiah 31:3:

The Lord had appeared of old unto
saying, "Yea, I have loved thee
with an everlasting love,
therefore with loving kindness
have I drawn thee..."

Now, I've long loved this particular Scripture for its use of the word "drawn."

As a child I imagined God with a box of crayons, drawing a picture of me. With a chimney-topped house and lollipop trees in the background.  A bright yellow sun overhead. God was designing me -- and my life.

Then, some years ago that image shifted. I would read the passage and think of God as turning on the tap.  Like drawing a bath. Drawing, from the infinite well of His infinite resources -- whatever He needed me to be. I was not coming into the demands of any given moment with a set of skills, gifts, or talents that are personally circumscribed - but with an open willing heart. And from the spigot of that willingness, God was drawing forth whatever was needed in service to Him -- and his creation.

About a year ago, this same passage unfolded on the page in a new way. It was as if I could feel God reaching out and drawing me into the close circle of his arms. I felt gathered in. I felt firmly held in a place, where -- instead of being overwhelmed by the pulsing uncertainty of the world -- I could only hear the beating of His heart.

But then, earlier this week, as I was reading this oh-so-familiar passage, a different image crossed my heart. It was of an archer drawing his arrow. It, quite literally, stopped me in my tracks. Now, I am not an archer. I don't have much experience with archery -- other than the fact that my husband teaches it at camp, and I read "Zen and the Art of Archery" many years ago.

But as that image came into focus, so did the spiritual implications of being the arrow that God is drawing.

An archer draws his arrow with intention. He takes aim. I actually felt that God was aiming me with a precise outcome -- or purpose -- in Mind. I could trust his aim. It moved me very deeply.

Although I had been feeling - since the girls left for college - a clear sense of my work, I had also been feeling a bit aimless when it came to any interests outside of the office. I thought of myself as the person who used to spend all of her discretionary time following her daughters' interests in soccer, school, camp, Polocrosse, Cowboy Mounted Shooting, etc.

I loved to knit, but I'd knitted items for everyone I knew and had become "that woman" who knitted, and then unraveled her knitting, just to save money on yarn -- since I couldn't think of anyone who wanted another scarf, skirt, or hat.

I loved to bake, but without the girls here to eat or share what I baked, it just sat there. I loved to write, but after 750 of these posts, I wondered if I was just speaking to myself. And anyway, I had begun to realize that if I couldn't communicate a concept in five short lines of poetry, I should probably sit with it a bit longer.

I have always known that a sustainable life is one that is Love-impelled. It is why I do the work that I do. I have no desire to ever retire. I love it so much. And this is good, because it is what I do all day, every day - it just brings me so much joy. But what else should I be doing? I kept thinking I had to find something to do with my discretionary time.

The image of an archer shifted all of that. It wasn't up to me to figure anything out. I could trust that in every moment of every day the Archer was drawing me with perfect, precise aim. I would hit my target, not because I had decided to "follow my heart," but because I was an arrow in His quiver. Drawn for a purpose. Never a randomly flung arrow. But drawn from the Archers bow.

In talking about this image with our Sunday School class one morning, another insight was shared. When an archer draws His bow back, it allows for a pause, and gives perspective to his aim. I could trust that when I was drawn back - by divine Love -- into recalling a past experience, insight, or lesson learned, it was with divine intention. It was never without a precise purpose. Again, there was no random or reckless flinging of arrows by the divine Archer.

Suddenly a definition of "sin," -- that I'd never fully gotten behind -- made a bit more sense. I'd always felt perplexed when someone shared that "sin" was defined as "missing the mark." Perhaps it was because my own favorite etymological definition of sin was "to sunder, or to separate."

I didn't like the "missing the mark" definition because it ratified the false (for me) view of man as self-determined, self-aimed. A mortal who could "go rogue," -- who could separate himself from an all-powerful, all-knowing God and make mistakes, bad choices, and wrong decisions.

But this view of God as the Archer changed that for me. Mary Baker Eddy states in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures that:

"The belief in sin is punished,
so long as the belief lasts..." 

And elsewhere she writes:

"Silencing self,
alias rising above corporeal personality,
is what reforms the sinner and destroys sin."

I am not the archer. We are not the archers of our own lives.  We cannot miss the mark, because we were never given an arrow -- we are the arrows. We are what God is drawing into precise purpose. We are what He has given accurate focus to. We can't help but hit His mark.

And I have to remember, that when it feels as if life events are dragging me backwards, an arrow can only be shot forward by pulling it backwards. Sometimes we have the opportunity of revisiting something we've outgrown, in order to more thoroughly glean the full weight of the lessons learned. Then we are launched forward with even greater precision and aim.

I don't have to decide to be -- or do -- anything. I just need to be a ready arrow in the Archer's quiver. Divine Love will draw me with perfect accuracy. The peace that this has given me is deep and satisfying.

In her poem, "Satisfied," Eddy assures us:

"It matters not,
what be Thy lot,
so Love doth guide..."

In the hands of the Archer, I am guided each moment towards the mark for which I am intended. I am drawn for a holy purpose. And He never misses. Whether the target is college, a new hobby, job, community, or relationship, we are perfect arrows in Love's quiver.

offered with Love,

Kate

"I think I'll just let the mystery be..."

"Everybody's wonderin' what
and where they all came from.
Everybody's worryin' 'bout where
they're gonna go when the whole thing's done.
But no one knows for certain
and so it's all the same to me.
I think I'll just let the mystery be..."

I love this song by Iris DeMent (Mary Huckins of Dakota Blonde sings a great version of it on their Something Simple CD).  Whether we think we know what happens following the transition called death, or we just wonder about it…a lot, its often a topic that rattles around in thought much too often.  I find it is especially persistent in bidding for our attention after the passing of a loved one, or when our own mortality demons poke at us from behind the ajar door of a closeted fear…almost like the characters in Monsters, Inc. whose entire reason for being is to keep children from resting peacefully.  Even when we have had "near death" experiences we return from with new insights, we often then question "what happens after those first transitional moments?"…"what happens beyond that?". 

Whenever I hear this song, I am reminded of an experience I had during an intensive course on spiritual healing I was enrolled in many years ago.  The teacher was wise and kind, and I was honored to be enrolled in the class.  It was a small class and he allowed much time, and opportunity, for discussion and questions.  It was really conducted more like a workshop or seminar, rather than after a traditional instructional pedagogical model.

One of my fellow students had experienced the passing of a loved one just prior to the start of our class, and during our days together of thinking through spiritual existence, healing and salvation, seemed to be pre-occupied with questions about death and the after-life.  "What happens after you "pass on"?  "Will we see our loved ones after we "pass on"?  "Do we have a body after we "pass on"? And so on. 

Our teacher was compassionate and patient with this line of inquiry day after day, but one afternoon, well into the second week he stopped the flow of conversation when our friend asked yet another death related question.  He lovingly said something that has stayed with me…as much of what I took from that course has…for over 20 years.  He said, "If you were to ask as many questions about Life…as  you are about death…death would no longer be a question for you."

Those of us who harbored the same questions and had been grateful that someone else was asking them, but were just too self-conscious to ask them ourselves (i.e. me!) were sobered by that answer.  Hmmm…I had been asking myself (and God) more questions about death than Life, thinking more about how to overcome lack than pondering the nature of God as infinite and abundantly supplying Love, worrying more about how to combat apathy than thankful for all the indications of vision, service, leadership, and passion…all around me…in the world today. 

This really changed my approach to how I pondered the universe, searched for direction in my inner (and outer) life, and contemplated the path towards realizing wholeness and healing in my own life and in the lives of others.

Was I trying to understand the concept of death so that I could battle it…in all it's subtle and insidious forms, or was I so conscious of the nature and verity of Life that death…Life's opposite, it's absence…was no longer a question for me. I want to know about Life...what it is like to live a life that is loving, full, alive with promise. That's what I want to contemplate, ponder and reflect. This is the thinking I want to see as fully occupying my consciousness.

I love the word "mystery".  As my once-upon-a-time-little-girl used to read it from the spine of a Nancy Drew novel when she'd go to the bookshelf and ask…"mommy can we read a my-story".  I think the only mystery in life is in letting God unfold your story to you…in His time and in His way.  I love that I have had so many experiences, so many my-stories, that have proven to me the eternality of life, the power of peace, the presence of health….that have provoked me to consider the nature of God.  So I'm sticking with my-story…my truth and what I am learning as I ponder Life to be enough…to ponder…today.

I think I'll just let "my story" be…whatever God is revealing to me of His allness, presence and power…and "think on these things"…

Enjoy the rest of Iris DeMent's lyrics for "Let the Mystery Be"…provocative, funny, deep, profound…my kind of song!

"...Some say once you're gone
you're gone forever,
and some say you're gonna come back.
Some say you rest in the arms of the Saviour
if in sinful ways you lack.
Some say that they're comin' back in a garden,
bunch of carrots and little sweet peas.
I think I'll just let the mystery be.

Some say they're goin'
to a place called Glory
and I ain't saying it ain't a fact.
But I've heard that I'm on the road to purgatory
and I don't like the sound of that.
Well, I believe in love
and I live my life accordingly.
But I choose to let the mystery be.

Everybody's wonderin' what
and where they all came from.
Everybody's worryin'
'bout where they're gonna go
when the whole thing's done.
But no one knows for certain
and so it's all the same to me.
I think I'll just let the mystery be.
I think I'll just let the mystery be."

Don't you love it…"bunch of carrots and little sweet peas"…priceless!
Kate