And that's what i think about that.
(This is an excerpt from one of my favorite, most marking books, Guerrillas of Grace by Ted Loder. He rights "prayers for the battlefield" in poem format. So, these are his words, not his spacing or his format, but it really is the words that matter. I will try my best to reproduce it similarly.)
"Grant Me Your Sense of Timing"
"O God of all seasons and sense,
grant me your sense of timing
to submit gracefully
and rejoice quietly
in the turn of the seasons.
In this season of short days and long nights,
of grey and white and cold,
teach me the lessons of waiting:
of the snow joining the mystery
of the hunkered-down seeds
growing in their sleep
watched over by gnarled-limbed, grandparent trees
resting from autumn's staggering energy;
of the silent, whirling earth
circling to race back home to the sun.
O God, grant me your sense of timing.
In this season of short days and long nights,
of grey and white and cold,
teach me the lessons of endings:
children growing,
friends leaving,
jobs concluding,
stages finishing,
grieving over,
grudges over,
blaming over,
excuses over.
O God, grant me your sense of timing.
In this season of short days and long nights,
of grey and white and cold,
teach me the lessons of beginnings:
that such waitings and endings
may be a starting place,
a planting of seeds
which to bring birth
what is ready to be born-
something right and just and different,
a new song.
a deeper relationship,
a fuller love-
in the fullness of your time.
O God, grant me your sense of timing."
So, those are the thoughts that I have right now, as it seems like every possible place in my life is either closing or opening. The openings seem exhilarating, and the closing are so sad, but I don't think I view them all as equal opportunities. I let yesterday or tomorrow or current feelings and temporary moments get in the way of "now".
I am working.
I am mending,
and bending,
and breaking,
and tearing,
and fixing,
and building,
and growing,
and repairing,
and repeating,
and reaping,
and healing,
and patching.
and chiseling,
and reducing,
and improving,
and redefining.
The phrase "dying to yourself everyday" has become a much more active and (almost, but not) ritualistic part of my day. This season is revealing, more than anything, parts of me that I don't like and parts of me that need to be changed. "There is a time for every activity under heaven" -Ecclesiastes something: something. (I think it is chapter 8...maybe.)
I am more selfish and independent and stubborn and grounded than I thought I was.
Everything
is
opening
and closing.
