Redemption

Redemption flys over the hills. It's patterns, it's grace, only known from afar. Only tasted in parts and pieces. Known, felt, but not fully grasped. Known in fragments, and in half taken breathes. Yet somehow, still known, still enough. For now I know in part, then I shall know fully, as I am fully known. Redemption makes its way through the crowds, touching everyone, Lord help me to know when it's near. There is none brighter, none who speaks more clearly, none who should be closer listened to, but we know by touching a piece, leading to another piece, leading to revelation, leading to open hearts, leading to another picture, a caricature of what is full, but enough to keep us moving forward. Sometimes, when the smoke clears, I can see more clearly. In these times, the mountains, hills, music, rhythms and dances all seem holy. There is no distinction between what is and what is to come, they are working together. In these moments, meaning is apparent, people are a grace, my troubles teachers, the unknown beautiful mystery. Thank you God. Other times, the road seems to be full of pot holes. In which I sprain my ankles. My bemoaned labors pile up, my shoulder seemingly about to crack under the pressure. Both experiences, same life. Both must be surrendered. Both leading to the holy. One by praise, the other by dependency. We need to accept both, hold both compassionately, learn to be compassionate to ourselves in both. Bad days don't mean bad people. In the darkness, there is still a light. Our ability to see it doesn't determine its reality. Now. My life is open. I accept good days with gratitude, bad as reminders of our dependency upon holy grace. I less fear the corners of myself, the far recesses where great joy and great pain live. I don't run from my feelings, they no longer have mastery over me, I'm less tossed about by the waves of my own fears. But I do not try to go feelingless, I do not deny my needs, my wishes, my desires. I can feel intensely, but also relativize my feelings. I less hold, more be held. I less try and pave my own way, more float in the river of grace. Millions upon millions of gallons flowing through all that is and all that was and all that will be. It cannot be stopped, it is beyond time and eternity, yet gentle enough to care for the deepest wound, the most sensitive soul. Help me to trust such a grace. My ever despairing thoughts, troubling me, can take promise in the One that lies beyond the eternal, beyond my troubles. Care for my soul Holy God, keep me from the darkness of trying to care for it on my own.