Monday, February 18, 2019


News of a dear soul passing to heaven reached me early this morning--the third of such people in recent days and weeks. I spent my waking hours tearbitten.

Tearbitten is my new word. I saw a word from scripture translated as hungerbitten. It doesn't need much definition, does it? Those hunger pangs nibble and bite. That's how tears feel this morning, a cry in response to the heart pangs.

Now I will say that the joyful side of heavenly entrance is very much a reality. And my tears are definitely selfish. I know this. :-) There is a beauty that resonates of a much different nature on that side of the scale.

If my cries could have resurrected someone, I would welcome that! They didn't even rouse my cat. It was all my soul pouring itself out. I'm not sure what I even want to say about that other than I want to write about it, and this is simply a draft at the moment. I may just need to acknowledge the moment while I can.

Something unfinished ... that's the ragged edge to my tears. Not just this morning, but in all three recent situations. For each one, my heart had previously been wanting to reach out--specifically, I wanted to write a letter (or text in one case). Regrets of the undone are the pangs, the piercings, the haunting sharpness.

Why am I so slow to respond? Why do I bow to procrastination? When did it get power in my life? Since when is my piddly day more important than reaching out to another human heart? Why am I timid about it?

Maybe the whys aren't important. Maybe just my recognition and awakening to this awful inversion is what counts.

I took it to the Lord in communion this morning. I judged myself of not following my inner urge to write when I could have shared my heart while a person was alive. (Not that my heart was important! Dear me. No! But that another person's life is important, and for me to take the time to acknowledge that and express my thankfulness for them.)

As I was trying to find words for a new commitment I could make with the Lord's help, I wondered silently why it was even a hint of a problem for me as I had a flashback to the times when letters from me were unfettered--free and lengthy outpourings of my heart. In that moment as if in response, I also recalled many experiences that targeted my words, hurt deeply, and caused me to restrain or second-guess (ultimately silencing) myself.

It answered my why.

As I sat with my communion elements, this time the breaking of the bread took on the significance of breaking that power over me. The body of my Lord broken for this ... for freedom from self-intimidation. After judging myself, I asked for forgiveness. I forgave those who contributed to the pressure that I responded to and shut myself down. I declared that power broken in my life. All in a gentle atmosphere of humility--acknowledging that I have no power in myself, but it's all God's doing and I welcome His work in my life to bring change, spark life, and spread His love.

I'm seeing such value (and challenge) in connection. We sure do need one another.

I want to look back and say that today is the day I leveled-up in life when it came to other people. It's another chip in the hermit-wishes (my mind gravitates toward being a hermit)! But most importantly, it's another day to step into the world bravely and see the hearts around me. It's another day to pick up my pen, put it to beautiful paper, and celebrate someone's life.

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