Saturday, September 27, 2014

"Hooked..................."

”What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Saturday morning, a little after eight, my wife still in bed, me and the pup up for nearly two hours already, me deep in thought, he interested only in his freedom gained from the cage he occupies overnight. The above quote is an old one, rediscovered via my usual “dumpster diving” at this time of day. That’s probably not the best term to use, such exercise, for me, more like exploring some large flea market and looking for “buried treasure”, in this case not objects, but words, thoughts expressed by others that touch me inwardly, capturing my heart, stirring my mind. Indeed, I collect such finds in bits and pieces, storing them away to revisit again and again. “Metanoia is a Greek term”, an acquaintance once wrote, “with a more expansive definition than its frequent translation of ‘repentance’. Its meaning incorporates the idea of a turn in direction, a change of heart. I am not yet ready for such a transformation, but I am experiencing slight nudges toward whatever life will be in the wake of a devastation that loss of child entails, a return to ‘what once was’ is foreclosed, but I’m willing to think in terms of inclination toward something new. ‘To incline’ implies a degree of hesitation, a certain fragility, an experimental move, some of which might describe the present. Metanoia, I think, is for the long term.” She was transitioning through what all of us hope we’ll never have to face; but, in truth, none of know what tomorrow may bring and, for that matter, have no real understanding of the past. Look back, there are things I regret, decisions made, stupidity on my part. Reflection, though, doesn’t hold me captive other than pondering much of the enigma as to how much was just me staggering down the path and how much was His anchor-line tugging on the inside long before I ever realized He was there……

6 comments:

  1. Metanoia. It stops me in my tracks and makes me take a look around me. You cannot possibly get more "real" than what she has gone through and come through. That is grit your teeth stuff. It saddens and amazes.

    A piano teacher I once had told me that genius is seeing what is and not what we would imagine is. We can only wallow in regret for a time before it becomes destructive. However, it's not a matter of just pulling up your bootstraps and trudging onward. It's scary stuff that makes you look into a black abyss. It's making a choice that may not come with a warm fuzzy hallmark moment. It's remembering in the pitch black what you came to know in a light that may seem like a distant memory.

    I've done a pile of genealogical research which would appear to be all dry actual factual stuff. But beyond the statistics, there are so many stories to be gleaned if you read between the lines and do some more digging.

    I know of a woman who sometime in the late 40's was in the hospital having just had a baby. Her husband known later to some as "juiceman" was home with the 18 month old. He decided to go to the store and leave the sleeping toddler at home. The house caught fire and the baby died.
    The infant who had just been born spent the first 4 years of her life living in a convent and was raised by the nuns there. She married at the age of 15, had 4 or 5 kids, divorced and suffered greatly from emotional/psychological issues.

    How can we not look upward?

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  2. Holey mackerel! My comment is about as long as your post. Sorry about that. You got me thinking....

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    1. I love it! In fact, it only proves what I've suspected all along: your real "you" is much deeper than just the art, your way with words deserving to be read more often than just sharing them in a comment here. Reading Ron Rolheiser's "Sacred Fire" this morning, fifth chapter where he delves into the subject of Mary having "pondered these things". It's where I "live"; and friends like you help kindle the flame. Appreciate your acquaintance, Mich...

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    2. Aww, thanks, Jim. Likewise, believe me. You ask the questions or send stuff out there and stir things up.

      Haven't heard of Ron Rolheiser. Sounds intriguing. Hubby's out there so I should tell him to swing by a bookstore on the way home!

      Message sent. We'll see if he takes the bait...

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  3. I sometimes worry, when I express a fresh wave of my own grief, if people think that is all there is to me anymore. It isn't! But it somehow feels like a way of honoring the time I had with my son. And it's also a way of letting others know that, by the grace of God, one can survive the unthinkable.

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    1. Don't worry about expressing your grief, my friend, especially when it is a flow connected to His grace walking with you through it.....

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