A fresh summer day. Time renewed. In the silence of the morning, time is not relevant. My soul blooms along with lemon lilies, and deep red Mandeville flowers. God dawns with the sun, floats above earth in white cloudy puffs, experiences life through me, through you, through upright lupines, nodding petunias and glowing fireflies. Creation explodes anew every day. I abide in Joy and Joy abides in me.
In case anyone is still reading this blog, I’m doing well. Walking on both feet again. Physical therapy and supplements from the nutritionist are really helping my ankles. The neuropathy is mostly gone. How lovely it is to feel the ground beneath my feet instead of odd stinging or numb sensations. I’m mostly holing up, taking life easy, doing what I have to do to keep the house and gardens intact. Not really feeling chatty or productive and that is good. I have a lot of inner stuff going on; healing, sorting, discerning, longing, asking life and the Spirit to lead me. I’m not feeling drawn to writing, or even much journaling.
I met with my spiritual director today. Our times together are such a blessing, so holy and so real, so ordinary. I wonder how anyone lives out faith and life without such a companion on the journey.
I stopped going to the “Healing Together” group at Lancaster Cancer Center. Although I really like the group, and the leader, attending makes me identify with cancer. I realize my need for support wasn't as much about cancer as it was about the need to mourn the loss of my close spiritual community when I finished five years of study at Kairos School of Spiritual Formation. I will always wonder how the folks in the support group are doing though; it’s amazing how quickly I bonded to these dear, courageous people. And, it was such a blessing to be reassured that post-chemo fatigue is normal, weak ankles from neuropathy too....but overall, I don't want to focus on cancer. Part of me would love continuing to attend because this group is similar to what I seek in a spiritual community- willingness to be open, vulnerable and real. Yet, I feel more called to find or start an intentional spiritually group that doesn't spring from one illness or issue. Perhaps my 'calling' and my longing will eventually blend into some group or community that gives me this kind of depth and life. I am willing anyway, should God and life lead.
God of my heart, you whisper my name as the breeze whispers among the willows. I throw open my arms and embrace the skies, the earth, the sea. Sweet Spirit, together we weep in glee as waves wet sandy cheeks; we leap in abandon with deer bounding through lush cornfields, we sleep with stars in our eyes. Beloved Immanuel, you experience life with me; I see your eyes when I look into my innocent grand daughter’s face or when I see a woman struggling with repression, a homeless child’s hunger, a spider proudly sitting in the midst of an intricately designed web, a man driven by work, or a dog gazing devotedly into the face of a beloved master. Dear One, are those your eyes peering out through theirs, or mine? Are our eyes all one? God, of my heart, you sing to me through robin song, touch me with human fingers , you color me in luscious shades of earth green, astound me with stars and galaxies, wrap me in healing blue skies and twining morning glory vines, laugh in flashes of cardinal red and comfort me in darkness with the glow of citronella candle and fireflies. May I always long for You, for love, for earth, sea, and sky, for community and wholeness.
Joyfully,
Sharon
