old poem

Leafing through an old journal this morning, I came across this poem written in April, 1990. from a dream last night

a song with words, with music

in my dream it was familiar

a song everyone knew, and sang together

i didn't know it all

but i sang the chorus

something about chances

something about lost opportunities

and the only words i remember this morning:

"standing on the shore, never getting wet."

Holiday 053


And on the next page of my journal, I had written a quote from Brennan Manning's book, Abba's Child:

"If we conceal our wounds out of fear and shame, our inner darkness can neither be illuminated nor become a light for others . . . But when we dare to live as forgiven men and women, we join the wounded healers and draw closer to Jesus."

And then this, from Henri Nouwen:

"Being the Beloved constitutes the core truth of our existence."

And I'm reminded again of how much I love The Way It Is--or at least The Way It Looks--and how fearful I am of What Might Happen If.

I sink into my cushy, comfy default mode of the status quo:  fix it, box it, make it work.

I forget all the Deep Magic that comes when I stop it, and Let God.

I so easily forget that I am the Beloved.  That nothing could possibly separate me from Love.

That there's an undiscovered country of grace and freedom, out there.

So this is me.

Toes in the sand, contemplating salt water.  Once again.

Anybody else out there afraid of getting wet?

Print Friendly and PDF