I’ve been reading “Atlas Girl: Finding Home in the Last Place I thought to Look” by Emily T. Wierenga. It’s one of my favorite discoveries lately. I love this book about a woman who loses and finds her faith.
And this is one of my favorite passages from the book —
“But what I needed was love, to wrap me up in its arms and tell me how beautiful I was and to make me laugh. . . .There are those nights when your dad reads an extra story or sings one more song. . . There are fresh homemade carrot cakes baked for your birthday and home-sewn dressed out of red velvet. . . But when you’re young, you see the gaps more than you do the glimpses. You see the hole more than the donut.”
I’ve been blogging so much about being thankful more and subsequently seeing God’s love more. But the reality is that it’s sometimes not enough. Sometimes my insecurity is like a huge chasm. Sometimes my emotions strike up and whirl out of control inside of me like a sudden storm. And then all I can see is the gaps, not the glimpses.
So a good goal is to make the glimpses more frequent. A good goal is to make the glimpses bigger.
And then sometimes God Himself stitches the glimpses together and I see a pattern that’s so right, so overarching, so magnificent, that I am awed to the depth of my soul and I am at peace again, knowing that everything is okay.
Church is great for that. We sang, “Praise the Lord, O my soul, all my inmost being praise His name,” and I remembered my study on that very psalm (Ps 103) this week and how it exemplifies God’s compassion. I wanted even more to praise the Lord with all my soul.
The head of a service organization got up and expressed her deep gratitude for our group’s workday to help them on MLK Day. I remembered how the day almost didn’t happen, and then how so many of us were there having a great time helping out, and I felt like everything was coming together just as it should be.
One of the campus girls shared a written word at communion and I was in tears at how beautiful it was, seeing how much her faith meant to her, knowing I had a small part in where she was.
Last Friday I made a new friend. One of the women in my choral group invited me to drop by her house some time. So I set up a time and went over.
It was wonderful. She showed me her quilting room, where she puts together beautiful stitched projects and helps underprivileged women in the community to do the same.
I saw her indoor aviary. It was so amazing — larger than a china cabinet, with all kinds of nests and colorful birds hopping around.
She made me a smoothie with homemade kefir she kept in a mason jar on the kitchen counter. It was great.
The time was an adventure. A treasure in a week of stumbling around trying to find my way.
It reminds me of part of one of my favorite poems my mom wrote:
“We have stumbled over trunks of treasure
In the darkness, and have laughed
Down the velvety corridors of night.” (Marguerite Tillinghast Roberts)
We travel down the velvety corridors of night, through the wailing winds of insecurity, the pain of feeling unloved, where the gaps are more than the glimpses, and the real challenge, the hardest thing of all, is to TRUST that we are loved, to know that we will stumble upon treasure, to know that He is the God who makes beauty out of ashes, who just at the right time pulls back the fabric of the universe and allows us to see the myriad connections.
That is why we keep going on, keep holding on, keep reaching out, keep praying to have the heart of Jesus.
To provide for them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that he might be glorified. And they shall build the old wastes, they shall raise up the former desolations, and they shall repair the waste cities, the desolations of many generations. Isa 61:3-4