Sunday, April 22, 2012


C.S. Lewis ponders the concept/reality of longing in many of his works. We long for that which we were made to know.
We long for a perfect weedless garden because so long ago we lost one.
We long for a home that is spacious and welcoming and neat and whole because there is one promised for us in heaven.
We long for that perfect meal because some day we will be served that meal by God Himself.
We long for the eternal. We are uncomfortable with time (Oh! Is it that time already? Oh! Has it been that long? Oh! Where has time gone? My, how time flies.) because we were made to be eternal.
We long for heaven because we were made to walk and talk with God in the cool of the evening.
We long for our family gone to heaven before us because relationships were not intended to be broken by death.
The already/not yet tension of longing pulls at us all the time, pulling us to eternal truths.

Some of these longings are accompanied by grief.
I am learning that grief is not morose. Lewis wrote a wonderful essay - Meditations in a Tool Shed. It has to do with observing a thing and then entering into the experience of the thing. Both are valid exercises and we do both all the time, but to do them consciously and intentionally changes the doing of them. Observing a beam of light (in the tool shed), watching dust dance in the light and seeing how that light brightens the room - we ponder the source of the light without seeing it - but then putting our faces into the beam, feeling its warmth and following the beam up to the sun allows us to be part of the light and connected to the source of the light. There are two different ways to experience the beam of light.
We can observe our grief in a clinical way which allows us to analyze it, see its affects, consider it for what it is. Or, we can enter our grief in a personal, reflective, healing way and be drawn to the One in Whom grief and healing meet. Both are good. Each needs the other.

Grief,longing, hope. I am learning about these.
It is the Lord's Day today. I lay these all before Him and worship Him for knowing that He works all things for good.

While brownies bake...

It's a warm sunny day in Northridge but
it's raining down my face.
I'm missing Mom.
She's been in heaven 4 months.
No one but Gracie talks with me about her anymore.
It's all still really fresh for me.
I had never seen anyone die before and that's an image, an experience that doesn't fade easily. Especially since she was my mom. This fresh grief snuck up on me suddenly as I wait for the brownies to bake for Lydia's art show.
I want to tell Mom Larry and I are happy.
I want to tell her I'll be teaching Latin in a brick and mortar school in Fall.
I want to tell her I had a wonderful visit with my brother and his wife for a few days this week.
I want to tell her how cute my grandson is and what good parents my son and daughter-in-law are.
I want to tell her Rachael and Andrew are back in CA.
I want to tell her that Lydia will graduate college in a month and that her art show is Monday and that she is doing so well.
I want to tell her about all the ideas Larry has for new businesses he will start.
I want to tell her that Dad is OK and that he misses her.
I want to tell her that I forgot how to crochet and I need her help.
I want to tell her that I made rysgrynsgrot.
I want to tell her that I miss her.
I want to tell her that I love her more now than ever.
I want to tell her that I'm trying to learn some of her secrets of contentment.
Mostly, I want to hear her voice.