{{tying the knot}}

The Clumsy Part of Love

I think the hardest part about love is wondering how to do it. Love can be clumsy.

Love can hurt while seeking to heal. It can harm while trying to help. I'm the type of person who sees a friend hurting and wants so badly to know how to help them in the exact right way that I'm rendered ineffectual. Sarah's far better at saying, "You know, it's the thought that counts," and moving along in the ways of love, ministering to everyone. It is hard to want to help but to feel incapable. I know there are times when nothing you can say or do is going to make things better. I know there are times when grief and heartbreak are what is needed.

But I can always love.

See, the clumsy love is still valuable. I didn't realize this until Sarah and I started talking about it, and her words to me were something along the lines of, "At least they know you care, even if you're not helping in the exact right way." The longer we talked about it, the more I realized that it's actually true. So I'm going forward and fumbling my way along the paths of love like an American in Tanzania who has no idea what language the people speak but knows that they need water and food and medical help. I'm stumbling along and accidentally bumping into bruises and wincing for my friends and hoping they can overlook the clumsy and see to the love that's filling my soul for their battered hearts. I hope they can. I know someday they will.

And then like a faint faint dawn breaking through the swath of night, God brings a realization to me: I don't need to think about how to get them out of this, past this, through this. I need to help them in this. And suddenly my fear that I'll be clumsy in my love starts to fade because I can do this. Some tragedies, heartbreaks, dark valleys are too too deep and terrifying to simply get over. Sometimes it's Love's turn to play catch-me-if-you-can and to keep the faintest spark of hope kindled in the soul of another. I've got my orders now and they've been confirmed:

Cup the flame.

That's all I need to do. Clumsy people can cup a flame. People who don't know how to love in all the perfect ways can cup a flame. People who have never experienced huge dark places or immense tragedies can cup a flame. People who--in all honestly--cannot relate can cup a flame.
And the way to cup that flame, to keep that hope alive?

Keep whispering light, keep giving hugs, keep not-letting them go. When they let their hope fizzle, strike a match and ignite it again. It's like being a backwards fire-man. We're like dragons needing to keep whispering encouragement to the little flame that might someday become a dragon again if it only keeps its chin up. We're the life-guards not letting the limp swimmer keep their head underwater, even if it would be so peaceful to just give in and drown; we shove them into the pure, wholesome air again and again and when we drag them onto a bit of shore, we might even have to give them a bit of our own breath to get their lungs pumping again. I don't mean a codependent, unhealthy sort of IT IS MY JOB TO KEEP YOU ALIVE! I mean...I mean infirmary work. The same tender care a nurse gives a patient under her watch:

"That's the infirmary work...to make the best of the circumstances. They bring us their own despair. It is our job to steal them a crumb of hope. Anything. Anything that will rouse a man from the profound grief of his infirmity is worthwhile. There is no healing without hope. Despair is living death."

-Penelope Wilcock

I mean loving even a little rudely if it means that you will be able to steal that crumb of hope for the languishing patient. I mean loving as part of the body of Christ: strengthening the weak knees and the hands that hang down. I mean responding to the hue and cry of desperate trumpets and doing what you can bit by bit to ease the way in love for these faltering brothers and sisters who are so precious to us:

"The work is great and extensive and we are separated far from one another on the wall. Wherever you hear the sound of the trumpet, rally to us there. Our God will fight for us." -Nehemiah 4:19-20

Jesus is the doctor. I'm the nurse. I can't heal but I can minister, soothe, love. And if the love that I can give is just crumb-stealing, why, even the weakest, clumsiest one of us can do that.

Lord, let Your love shine through me and soothe these frail souls. Give me grace and wisdom in how best to cup the flame of Your hope that is flickering in the torrential downpour of griefs and sorrows in these sweet lives. Let me not focus on my own clumsiness, but on the skill of Your hands, and fight for these, Your people. Amen.

captive of the dusk-rhyme

The weather--breath of Autumn, charm of summer, golden-in-between--has been splendid, and the glory of it holds the whole day through as I work. Driving home with Dad, we take a back-country route and the evening gathers around us.

The oyster-light beauty of a limpid-eyed dusk.

Frail shades of pink dying the West and a lone feather above--an eagle's pinion, carved of gold-whetted cloud-shard.

Uplands chasing the vagrant light, downlands...mingled shadow and warmth. The broad bands of trees dark and silent against the wash of beauty--beautiful in their own solemn way pencilled, as it were, upon the drapery of rose and amber.

Home-words, good words lingering in my thoughts from the book I'd just laid aside--its delight faded only with the glory of the earth at elf-light.
Such simple, earth-rhythm glory. Glory of heaven and earth shouting praises to their creator. Quiet glory of a world turning--moment by moment--a shade lovelier than it had been yet a moment before. Hay-sweet breeze, dove-light jinking on the meadow and there on the edge of that eagle-feather.

It has not always been this way--I know. I have only been privileged to see this turning of the night for a few years of my life--for the dusk-rhyme is never heard above the roar of the city where I lived so long. I breathe deep, long, lasting, and lift a thought of thanks--heart too full to frame in words; but He knows. He means for it to feel this way--this pain and joy mixed in the cup of Beauty.

The joy glimmers coal-wise in the center of the pain, and the pain springs till my heart aches and throbs. It will not always be this way--I am grown. I may marry and the man I marry may take me back to the city. Moth-wing terror flutters in my breast--to be trapped--I, akin more to this beauty and linked more to this land than I had known before tonight...a thrall in the confines of a city, barred from viewing the turning of the night in its muted, pearlescent shades.

It may be. It very well may be. Never to sense the gloaming? Never to watch its richness unfold petal by petal except on that rare occasion when I might find myself home?

My heart again throbs and joy mingles strongly with the pain once more. Blue hope, center of the flame, whirl in the shell. Home has my love...but my Love shall be my home.

But here...now...I am captive of the dusk-rhyme. Intoxicated, suspended, transfixed by the glory.

You make me smile like the sun, fall out of bed....*insert gigantic ear-to-ear grin*

"They're a couple!!!" "A couple of what?" 

And if you needed clarification, Abigail and our wonderful Gentleman are officially together! xD 

**lets out very loud and very excited squeal**

Yes. We are so thankful to the Lord and the way He's working in our dear brother and good friend. :) Love you both so much and will be praying for you in this exciting season!

-Sarah

Upward I look and see Him there...

I have been thinking this afternoon on the very great love Jesus has for me. It sounds so....trite to say it, because I feel it is a hackneyed phrase. Everyone speaks about Jesus' love, and yet we can never understand the depth and fullness of it. But today I am feeling, more than ever, the vastness of His love. To know that no matter what I do, He still looks at me with love, and even when I sin and virtually spit in His dear face, Jesus holds out his arms to me with a tender smile and begs me to follow Him.

Such knowledge is too vast for me. It makes me feel minuscule.

Since I always sing when I'm happy, snatches of songs have flittered through my mind, illustrating the point:

"When Satan tempts me to despair
And tells me of the guilt within,
Upward I look and see Him there,
Who made an end to all my sin.
Because a sinless Savior died,
My guilty soul is counted free
For God the Just is satisfied
To look on Him and pardon me..."

And yet another song:

"No guilt in life, no fear in death,
This is the power of Christ in me.
From life's first cry to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of Hell, no scheme of man
Can ever pluck me from His hand.
till He returns, or calls me home,
Here is the love of Christ, I stand."

Beautiful promises, and ones that I find infinitely dearer when I have sinned and feel His forgiveness. It might seem a strange thought, but I have often thought that there might be a special sweetness in coming to know Christ at an older age, since you would have experienced life without Christ, and then beauty of His holiness and forgiveness afterward.
(Not that I would trade in knowing Jesus from a young age for that, however inspiring the sensation would be.)
To know that I am in His keeping, and that He loves me and wishes to know me intimately is an everlasting comfort. When I feel lonely, I realize He is waiting for me ask Him to be my companion. When I am worrying, He asks that I give all my cares to Him.
My Jesus is amazing. But I can't describe Him at all. He is, after all, indescribable. But here is a video that brushes the surface and expresses what my heart is thrilling with. It is a description of my Lord that a preacher, S. M. Lockridge recited in the mid 70's , and humbles me each and every time I listen to it. :) ~Rachel

Forever Victorious

Hello to all our readers! I trust you all have a wonderful April Fool's Day? I did, and except for believing a post on Abigail's blog, I was not duped. Today is the 3rd or 4th of a glorious string of days. The sky is a perfect blue, the breeze beckons for me to come outdoors and trod barefoot upon the emerald grass. Myriads of flowers speckle the grass, lifting up their lovely faces to be admired and plucked to grace a windowsill or table. The fresh baby green greets me from every corner, and I think, "Who am I that the Lord grants me so many blessings?"
I think back 2,000 or so years to this same day, "Good Friday" and marvel. I wish I could think of something clever or insightful to say about this very special day. But the thought that persists in my mind, is how great the love of Christ is. He took my sin, and the sin of each one of us upon His shoulders, and bore it unto death. And as He hung upon the cross, (As Aunt Christy pointed out) He was thinking of each of us by name. He was not just dying "for all mankind" but for every person by name. For Sarah, for me, for Daniel, Matthew, Abigail, Hannah, Merriette, Shaina, Elliott, Oliver....everyone each by name.
And His love did not stop at the cross, but continues on through each day. Why does God care to see that my yard is full of flowers that I so delight in? Because He loves me. Why did He give us the gift of laughter? Because He loves me and delights in hearing my joy aloud. I don't know about you all, but His love is the one that I want to encompass me. I want to be wrapped in His love as much as I can. It is like drinking from a fountain after you have been running a marathon and knowing that it will never run dry. I am a stupid sheep sometimes. I jump over fences, knock down all my fellow sheep, and get my wool stuck in the briars. Then I stand there bleating. And still my Shephard, with such marvelous tenderness in His eyes, and a knowing smile playing about His mouth, lifts me in His powerful arms, and restores me. I am so undeserving of Jesus's love. And He knows it. That is why He paid the price. He loves me even after all I do to offend His principles. That thought, though over-used sometimes, cannot really be fully fathomed by our sheltered minds. But I know that the one way I can try to show Him that I am abundantly grateful for what He has done, is to walk in the way He shows me. Nothing more, nothing less.
"Who shall seperate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness or peril, or sword?...For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:35, 37-39
I don't know about you all, but I am jubliant and awestuck at the blessing of being on the side that always has, and always will win! -Rachel