scattered through my mind to prevent their gathering into forlorn piles likes shoes in Holocaust pictures or bones in mass graves
keys, buttons, eyeglasses orphaned socks and earrings the wedding ring lost that year I grew thin nursing my infant daughter nearly 100,000 drops of sweat equity from 30 years of buying, repairing, selling-- (living, really)
friends, innocence and bright green hope broken trust lost love shattered dreams
even I was once lost.
But now I'm found reclaimed, reborn new every morning like the sun like His mercies like joy
every pink and gold morning a snapshot of that curious rebirth when day appeared suddenly in the middle of night when love gushing through me (there all along now uncovered, free-flowing) sang a new song of all things becoming new
every gray and misty morning a promise that Morning itself will one day be born for though He may come as unexpectedly as a thief at midnight-- though it be at midnight-- He who is Morning and Sunrise will suddenly swallow all night forever shaming in His rising the million glorious sunrises that foreshadowed His-- and my-- resurrection
then shall come the reclamation of all things lost suddenly found all fragments united in wholeness
Have you ever noticed that your personal definition of what is proper or polite for you then becomes the paradigm through which you receive and react to other people's behavior?
"Speak the truth in love" is one of those things. It's almost as if we completely ignore truth if it isn't delivered in a manner we consider "loving." i.e. "You said that rudely so I don't have to hear what you said." It does make me want to speak carefully so that my message gets through, but it also makes me want to shed my distaste for the truth because of the delivery system.
Here's an example: the other day I had to take Danica to the athletic trainer's office for an injury. While I was waiting for her, I stood in front of his desk (where no one was working) to read a poster on the wall above it. Suddenly I noticed a teen-aged boy standing beside me, as though I was where he needed to be. I said, "Oh, I'm sorry! Am I in your way?" and he said "Yeah."
My first reaction was that he was kind of rude, or at the least abrupt. Why didn't he say it more apologetically or graciously, like I would have done? Then I immediately realized that he was just telling the truth. Not in a rude way, just not all flowered up the way I like it. I completely let that little perceived "offense" fall away and then got to thinking about truth and why we not only want it delivered with love, but with flowers, candy, apologies, somersaults and tickets to our favorite concert. Or, maybe we just don't want to hear truth at all.
