turn around

stairwell accompaniment:Over the Rhine- B.P.D.

So where is this risk? This life of adventure? The passionate yeses and the obstinate nos. The rush that leaves me breathless and desiring a second run at it even though my legs are shaking. Often I feel that if God had placed wings on this feeble human back that I would jump. Jump and surely take on the wind. Sailing. But wingless I remain! My feet firmly planted. It's this pent up aggression for something more. It's the trust I desire! (And Joy, how much are we just seeking a comfortable life for ourselves and for our children? Are we not just destined for His table crumbs? And will those crumbs not be our riches in light of Him? Rebels.) It's the lack of a life lived to ride on faith and trust. To fall face forward on a risk and know that whether I rise again with bruises or I am sweetly cradled in The Everlasting, I will have challenged this life! Yet here I am--I am parading what I call trust (what is a barely acceptable and half-hearted excuse for trust) and I remain within these safe walls. Safe. Suffocating. Is He not brave enough? Big enough? Strong enough? If He not mine enough?
God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality. He knows it already. I am the student.
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My latest musings: God as husband. A few months ago I was on an airplane to Mexico and I read C.S. Lewis's A Grief Observed. I spend much of that solo trip in tears as I read Lewis's journaling after the loss of his wife. I have learned much from those writings about marriage. My betrothal to my husband and to my God.

"For a good wife contains so many persons in herself. What was H. not to me? She was my daughter and my mother, my pupil and my teacher, my subject and my sovereign; and always, holding all these in solution, my trusty comrade, friend, shipmate, fellow-soldier. My mistress; but at the same time all that any man friend (and I have good ones) has ever been to me. Perhaps more. If we had never fallen in love we should have none the less been always together, and created a scandal...Solomon calls his bride Sister. Could a woman be a complete wife unless, for a moment, in one particular mood, a man felt almost inclined to call her Brother?"-C.S.
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Conversations that turn deep. And life is now bringing me to discover this new laughter. Completely new.