Yirat Shamayim

Let me preface this post by stating: I haven't gone to any breakup/breakdown/breakthrough/break-a-leg meetings or weekends. I haven't been talking to anyone. I haven't read any new spiritual help books. I am not dying and trying to make peace with my Maker.

That being said, my soul has been busy stirring from the molasses that has held it captive for more years than any soul should spend trapped in molasses. It is as if a spiritual antennae has been tuned to a special frequency just for me. And, I am paying attention. There have been no revelations; just odds and ends that fire random jolts of hope through the halls of my dusty heart.

One random bit paraphrased from "Are you Afraid of your Soul?" by Simon Jacobson:

The Hebrew words commonly mistranslated as "fear of God," are Yirat Shamayim which really mean 'awe of heaven.' What a difference there is between those two translations. To fear God weakens the spirit. Awe strengthens it. To fear God demoralizes the soul. Awe uplifts it. To fear God squashes joy. Awe calls joy forth. Yirat Shamayim (awe of God) acknowledges the distance between man and his Creator and calls us upward to greater things.

And, then there are the two sermons that have most stuck with me in the past decade. Both were simple in content, but they inspired lasting Yirat Shamayim.

The first was delivered by my own dear husband, Jim. The text was from the Old Testament. He brought out the illustration that God doesn't stand at the intersection of His "Thou Shalt Nots" and our free will with a baseball bat. The lines that He draws for us are not intended to be a challenge. God never says: Here is the line. I dare you to cross it. Instead he says, "My Child, here is the line. I have drawn it because I have seen the heartache that comes to those who cross it. I want to spare you that pain. Please don't...just don't. "

The second was of a similar theme brought to our little congregation by a guest speaker more than six years after my heart had responded to that first message. The lesson was basic. God knows WHAT we do. But, God also knows WHY we do it. He knows why we cry. He knows why we are empty. He knows why we sin. He knows the hurts that drive us away from him instead of to him. And, God cares about the "why" far more than he cares about the "what."

Are you one with your soul?

I have been in a relationship the same person for 42 years, 3 months, and 2 days. You might say that we have grown up together. Myself and I took our first steps at the exact same moment. We learned to talk the same way. We both wore french braids and saddle shoes. We both gave our hearts to Jesus. We went to the same schools. We kissed Rick Matthews when we were 12. We had the same parents. We wept with conviction at the Summer Convention altar call. We married the same dear man with porcupine quill hair. We laughed at Pee Wee's Big Adventure. We adored hot fudge cakes at Big Boy. We both liked movies with a twist at the end. And, we always read the dictionary before we fell asleep. We were truly soul mates, myself and I.

A sobering thing happened though. As close as we once were, I became unfaithful to myself. I cheated on myself in ways I never thought possible. I disregarded my inner voice. I hardened my heart. I walked away from the core of who I was. And, it has been years since I have sat in peace with myself.

When I think about it, Myself always tried harder than I ever did to keep us together. Myself was good at reinventing us in an attempt to keep me interested, but it never lasted long, because the truth was...I hated Myself.

Each time I caught sight of Myself in the mirror, I would remind that innocent reflection through clenched teeth: "I hate you!" And, I think I really did.

I am fairly certain that one cannot divorce one's self. So, I am seeking a year of reconciliation.

The Hebrew word "raham" means grace. It is not just any grace though. It is a word that means "a merciful and compassionate restoration of a broken relationship." I have wondered recently if the relationship that gets most broken in life is the one we have with ourselves. There is no relationship on earth more important than the one that is kept with the soul for when it is broken, all else fails. Faith, hope, love. And, the greatest of these is love.

Love for yourself is impossible with a splintered soul. No matter how far you run, the relationship that needs you the most is the one inside.

My daily prayer is simply, "raham." It is for me, and it is for anyone else who seeks a merciful and compassionate restoration of a relationship with themselves.

Isaiah 58

Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke?

Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh?

Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thine health shall spring forth speedily: and thy righteousness shall go before thee; the glory of the LORD shall be thy reward.

Then shalt thou call, and the LORD shall answer; thou shalt cry, and he shall say, Here I am. If thou take away from the midst of thee the yoke, the putting forth of the finger, and speaking vanity;

And if thou draw out thy soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul; then shall thy light rise in obscurity, and thy darkness be as the noon day:

And the LORD shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought, and make fat thy bones: and thou shalt be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters fail not.

Where do you weep?

Sometimes a picture is worth the postcard upon which it is printed. And, the words, well, they are worth the ink. Check out Post Secret.*
*Warning: Not rated E for EVERYONE.

Elvis Drinks Moxie

He used to sing in the men's quartet. His earnest eyebrows would rise and fall in time with his Adam's apple. And, his voice, rich and glossy like pulled taffy, brought heaven into the room. No one argued--Dick Parker had a gift.

I haven't seen him in years. And then...

At a Main street fair in Lisbon Falls amid a sea of orange Moxie t-shirts, Dick Parker was Elvis. He took the stage wearing nothing but a glitzy white leisure suit and wedged sideburns to croon to the afternoon crowd. The sunlight caught on his gigantic pinkie ring and the "bling" around his neck shook. He was soft at first, but he gained volume as his hips began to swing. Yes, Dick Parker SWIVELED from the waist down. He was a rockin'robinhounddog sort of guy. Now, THAT is Moxie.

My reaction was a mixture of delight and disbelief. Delight to see him doing something that brought so much fun to the little town. His family and half of Shiloh were there to cheer him on. Disbelief because...well...this was Dick Parker. It was like finding out that your blind date to the prom was your brother.

He performed a set of Elvis songs that used to make young girls swoon. And, then, when I least expected it, he sang "How Great Thou Art." Right there, on the street, in the hot afternoon sun, prickles went up the back of my neck, and I knew I was going to cry. Tears fell over my face faster than I could stop them. I didn't join the chorus although many people did. I stood and listened. Everything faded. The smell of fried dough and onions with peppers. The mechanical elephant at the Safari booth. The call of the vendors. The people.

It was just me and Elvis. And that voice.

Where he had been more timid on other songs, the tone was strong and full with no hesitation:

"O Lord my God, When I in awesome wonder,
Consider all the worlds Thy Hands have made;
I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed."

Who knew that it would take Elvis risen from the dead drinking Moxie to bend my heart close to God?

God

I am convinced that Neil Young was onto something...

We went lookin' for faith
on the forest floor,
And it showed up everywhere,
In the sun and the water
and the falling leaves,
The falling leaves of time.

I am equally convinced that God hates Powerpoint.

My faith lives in Vancouver

Sitting cross-legged under a scraggly tree was a girl not much older than Jayna. She was staring straight ahead as if to tune out the tears. A poncho covered her thin shoulders and her cardboard sign read simply: "I am broke and hungry."

I walked by her, because that is what you are supposed to do with street people. There are so many and the need is so great that you cannot possibly make a difference. But, that stare and the young face haunted each step that took me down the block. My own tears pushed hard behind my eyes until they finally fell.

"How old do you think she was?" I asked Anne.

Anne had to think for a minute who I meant because we had gone three or four blocks past the girl. Then she answered, "Jayna?"

And, I cried.

Something about it hurt so much. Not knowing her story, I couldn't assume that she had a home. I couldn't assume that if she did, it was a happy or safe one. I couldn't assume that she was a drug addict. I couldn't assume that she wasn't. I just knew that if she had a better gig going on, she certainly would not be sitting on the cool October pavement at 10 o'clock at night asking for food.

You know sometimes you can feel compelled to do something even when you know it doesn't make sense? This was one of those times. I walked to the nearest store to buy her dinner. The turkey pita sandwich and apple juice I bought from 7 Eleven went into a bag along with the biggest, reddest apple I could find. I bought a couple of cereal bars and some chewing gum and retraced my steps to find the girl who had broken my heart.

At first I thought she was gone. But, then I could see that she had only hunched down further. Seemed smaller. More forlorn. I didn't trust my voice, but I knew that I had to speak. It was part of what was compelling me.

"Hey, how are you tonight?" I asked. The streetlight caught on the tears behind her stare.

"GO HOME, little girl," I wanted to scream, but, of course, I didn't.

"This is for you," I said as I knelt next to her. The bag of food hung as an offering between us. A dirty hand with broken nails came out from under the poncho.

"And, this is for you too." I dropped several Canadian coins into her palm. Enough to buy coffee or something warm.

She smiled, and then I saw that she was not as young as I thought. Her skin was older. Her teeth were starting to rot. Her matted hair had not been glossy for years. It startled me for a minute. It caused a moment of doubt in my judgment.

But, I had been compelled by something beyond that moment.

I don't practice my faith in a church. I don't even know what I believe or how I feel about those things any more. However, I have promised myself that I would always respond when I felt that tug to reach out to another human being.

My faith stands in two things...

First, we entertain angels unaware. I used to think that meant that actual angels were walking the earth seeking our hospitality. It was a pass/fail sort of test. Now I believe that the angels we entertain unaware are of this earth. Our fellow man. People who bless us when we help them.

And second, the scripture that reminds us: "Whatsoever you do unto the least of these, you do unto me." If you remember, on the day that counted, it was the ONLY thing that separated the sheep from the goats.

My angel was gone when we walked back by less than an hour later.

Imps in Eager Caucus

I can wade Grief
Whole Pools of it
I'm used to that
But the least push of Joy
Breaks up my feet
And I tip -- drunken

Emily Dickinson

Something about her words hits me like a shot of whiskey. The toss. The swallow. The bite. The warmth. Who can not love this?

"A wounded deer leaps the highest."

"God gave a Loaf to every Bird, but just a Crumb to Me."

"Imps in eager Caucus raffle for my soul."

I suppose I am most drawn to what she didn't say. And, I have always wondered if she reconciled her restless struggle in a way that gave her peace.