Friday, March 25, 2011
From the Ashes
As most of my friends know, the year 2005 was one which held great joy and unbearable sorrow. In a single night I said yes to a call to ordained ministry rather than licensed local pastor which I had been discerning for several years. Hours later learned of the death of my youngest child and his beautiful fiance.
The months immediately following were filled with a somnambulant reflex. I simply put one foot in front of another because I didn't know what else to do. There was no clear thought, plan, or excitement. No feeling at all. I simply began a segment of my life's journey that would hopefully lead to ordination within my denomination. I did what I believed I was called to do.
This journey of seeming obedience has been filled with land mines. A love-hate relationship with the God I believed initiated the call/journey. And an inordinate about of anger. Anger, rage really, at being called, anger at losing my son, my dreams for him, the daughter of my heart, my dreams for them together. Anger that held me up, infused me with its energy, kept me safe. Protected me from my grief. And now it too is gone. No anger to keep me safe and no solid life-long image of a God to which I cling. Burnt out. Now I am left with ashes.
But, the ashes are not a place of hopelessness. The ashes will feed the soil from which new life will grow. They will become a vital part of this new beginning. With it will come new understanding of myself and of God. A perfect place to be in this season of Lent.
The months immediately following were filled with a somnambulant reflex. I simply put one foot in front of another because I didn't know what else to do. There was no clear thought, plan, or excitement. No feeling at all. I simply began a segment of my life's journey that would hopefully lead to ordination within my denomination. I did what I believed I was called to do.
This journey of seeming obedience has been filled with land mines. A love-hate relationship with the God I believed initiated the call/journey. And an inordinate about of anger. Anger, rage really, at being called, anger at losing my son, my dreams for him, the daughter of my heart, my dreams for them together. Anger that held me up, infused me with its energy, kept me safe. Protected me from my grief. And now it too is gone. No anger to keep me safe and no solid life-long image of a God to which I cling. Burnt out. Now I am left with ashes.
But, the ashes are not a place of hopelessness. The ashes will feed the soil from which new life will grow. They will become a vital part of this new beginning. With it will come new understanding of myself and of God. A perfect place to be in this season of Lent.
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