Cautious Attempt

I have one new year's resolution: To clean up my potty mouth a little bit - not entirely, but at least by some margin of cleanliness.

Now, the following is not a new year's rez at all. But I have noticed that, corresponding with dear ones, I find myself forwarding many thoughts to other people with the understanding that those recipients will receive more than words. Rather, I have a sense they receive light and fullness, as I have received. I never have really wanted to put very many thoughts of depth on this blog because I have always thought that is kind of weird. But I want to pass on what I receive. And I want people to know Jesus more deeply because they will receive life and light and breath and freedom as they do. Here goes? FEEL FREE TO IGNORE. NO PRESSURE TO READ.

An excerpt from an email I recently sent to a dear one in my life and heart in response to a raw and honest note I received:

"You are a treasure. This note is a rich and deep gift - this slice of your heart emits an undeniable aroma of maturity. Maturity of thought and maturity of surrender. Born of sorrow. You are on the road, my friend. And He who guides our journeys continues to be faithful to you; I love Him a lot - your story is a reminder of that. I love that you are experiencing this ache with such honesty and thank you for inviting me into that ache. There is a weird, but strangely alluring book I am reading slowly during my lunch breaks called Drops Like Stars. I think it would resonate with you right now. And, always the champion for this Christian literary classic, Hinds Feet On High Places could really hit the spot for you right now. No pressure. Or maybe another reading of Corrie Ten Boom's The Hiding Place. There is power in the community of sorrow and suffering. In the deep places of life, we find others there - and we are stripped because of that pain, and we all (those of us down there) know it without words, can feel it from one another and as we share it, we find strength. And we begin to discover a new definition of 'beauty'. My bookish friends: Corrie has offered me strength; LittleFoot (a.k.a Much Afraid) has offered me strength; Joseph - the one with the coat of many colors has recently offered me great strength; Isaiah has offered me strength - particularly in his chapter 46; my good buddy and literary idol, Anne Lamott has offered me strength; good ole Oswald reminds me so often I am an ass - and yet in that there is such freedom admitting my own weakness that offers me strength; Rob Bell (cringe and yet gratefully) has offered me strength; and Jesus - sweet sweet Jesus continues to offer me strength: in whispered words meant just for me, through his alter ego, Aslan in The Horse and His Boy ("I was the lion" slays me EVERY TIME), in the manger - God with us, at the last supper around that table, and as He shows up in the 40s and 50s of Isaiah. He is everywhere, has been present with me all along - since my conception and I love Him for it. I don't understand why He has deemed me important enough for His presence and His effort and His care, but He has and so I tearfully bow and receive and beg for more - believing and finding security in His words, that He will be with me until I am old and gray, which is fortunate considering I began finding (dammit) gray hairs on my own head in 2009 gah!

I stand with you. I share your ache. Let's shoulder life together, as it was intended to be lived and shouldered. And good Lord, let's hope I find my copy of My Utmost For His Highest buried somewhere deep in the recesses of the backseat of my Honda... some things never change.

So much love and so much thanks.
Erin"