We all of us move…from unbeing to being…and back. Someday we will rise above and always be in that wonderful moment that is beyond the endless perpetuation of minutes piled up and raining relentless on our weary bones. Someday we transcend time, while still retaining the pleasure of memory, but cleansed and healed, and a history filled and made whole.
We all of us move…from unknowing to knowing…from hiding to being found and known.
This Easter period that happened to me…both things alluded to above.
Last year was a time of such horror, such destruction and wrenching that I had at last despaired that God was present and listening. In spite of the years of presence with me…in spite of healings, miracles, inspirations, provisions, the walls had finally caved in. All I knew to do to be successful turned to dust. Everyday was filled with absurd and unpredictable emergencies. Betrayal from individuals in places of power was rife and thick and without remorse, quarter or mercy.
Prayer, fervent, loud, desperate…unheeded and evocative only of the towering and dark silence of the cosmos expanding into nothing.
Prayer, soft and plaintive and tremulous in the agony of pain…unheeded and rebounding on brass skies closing off all avenues for me.
The new year came, and over time Mama began to once again make Her person and voice known to my heart, and She spoke on behalf of Jesus and the Father…tenderly. Simply.
Distilled and common words, but lively with living Life of Life.
She taught me to live again, and drew me close again…and it was not some mtn top experience, or mighty religious event. On the contrary, it was so basic as to be insulting to the pride of the eyes which wants its religion to be towering, solemn and stately.
And She bubbled in my thoughts, and in my heart, and in my words, and in my deeds…present within like salt in a dish hidden and yet influential. She was gravity, drawing me to the Father and to Jesus and once again into the cuddle that kept me from death for decades.
On Good Friday morning, we set out for the beach…me packing our bikes, all our clothes for riding and other equipment we would need. I planned that we would do rides each day, and since I began HRT we are equally yoked in our cycling speeds and approach.
We got to our destination, unpacked, and…discovered that I had left my cycling cleats home! And my cycling shorts home!! As my bike has clipless pedals, I cannot ride safely without those shoes, 3 hours away!
I began to cry, feeling so stupid and frustrated and thick!
My baby encouraged me, and soothed me…so I got up to wash my face and go to the bathroom…
what was that? omfg omfg that was my
smart phone in the toilet bowl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Aaaaaaaaaaaccccckkkk!!
Fished it out, tried to see if it was ok, and it just died, blacker than the sadness I felt at my complete and utter ditzy-dumb-scatterbrained idiocy!
I wept more…googled what to do, and as my baby had already told me, and I did not listen cus I was too upset, I was supposed to put the phone in rice and walk away. So we did.
After a few minutes, say 30 minutes later, I found myself talking to Mama…but instead of the desperation of the past year, or the complaints or the agonies, I just talked together with Her. And She told me that all was well, all was in Her gaze already, and She was making a way that was simply HERS, and not mine! And I could either fret and agonize until Her ways came to be, or I could enjoy being alive and Her daughter and deeply loved child…She had secured me, on a new journey to a land that She would show me as we arrived.
Quite honestly, I was shocked at my ready and easy acceptance of Her words, and as I embraced them, they embraced ME…in a peace and quietude that clung like foggy mists to the craggy boughs of the gnarled and beautiful scrub fir trees near our room.
The weekend went by, one of the very best in my entire life…and quite literally the very first Easter for me as a fully aware and awake and transitioning woman. I am in blossom and bloom…She is that within me. Each hour filled with joy and packed with contentment.
Sunday morning rolled around, and I decided to check on that phone…battery in, and…
there! It came back, resurrected from the grave on Resurrection Morning!
Somehow this seems a predictive parable for me for this coming season…oh, and let’s not forget the gift of the painting I received! Bare trees in the background, tall and stark, and a wild pear tree in full blossom there rioting in joyous bloom!
Just like me…Charissa Grace Blooming finally and here to stay!