Cometsgirl

I wanted to return to Iceland before I left. An Iceland journey in 2016 left me wanting more of this amazingly “alive and dangerous” place. Iceland is alive in the sense that it is in constant renewal- whether by volcanic eruptions, glacier calving, or underground thermal energy bubbling up.  Dangerous because of its rugged and unfamiliar terrain, its remoteness, and the two-lane highway with one-lane bridges that encircles the island.

At the end of our 2016 trip, my friend and I declared ourselves BRAVE WOMEN for having successfully, and safely, navigated this foreign land.

It took bravery just to embark on that trek.  Having survived severe flooding just weeks before, we took a leap of faith and took off for Iceland.  And, as the trip neared its end, I knew I wanted to return.

Now, with just 18 days before I return, another flooding scenario is playing out. Is it something about Iceland? Or is it just timing coincidence?  Whatever the case, “and then there’s Iceland” has taken on new meaning for me.

It represents something akin to “oh, and there’s that to consider- there’s that to think about – there’s that to deal with – there’s that looming out there threatening to create upheaval and uncertainty”.  Sounds a lot like Iceland itself.

So as I continue my preparations for this return trek, I’m mindful more that ever of taking a leap of faith. Kierkegaard felt a leap of faith was necessary in accepting Christianity due to the paradoxes that exist in Christianity.  Stretching that concept a bit, a leap of faith for me is about trusting that God is in the midst of the events surrounding my life, and that I trust that things will work out.  It’s always possible that the working out of things is not quite as I envisioned, but that nonetheless, they work out it a way that always has God’s presence.  And I need to have trust and faith.

I am anticipating this view once again- that of just seconds from landing at Reykjavík International Airport.

Traveling mercies.

I’ve been thinking about waiting. There’s a longing about waiting.  For both something to end and something to begin. I’ve come through a long season of waiting, with hope that I would make it through the waiting period, believing that something better would come.  And so the waiting has ended.  And never in my imagine would I have believed what the “better” could and would be. Honestly, I was not certain I would make it through this extended wait.  It was years long. It was like being in the desert, and now the desert is in bloom.

I think we are often asked to wait.  We are to have patience.  That’s not one of my better features. In Romans 8:25, we read “But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”

This is definitely a reminder for me, because there is always waiting ahead. Travel. A phone call. A diagnosis. Conversations. Sluggish internet. Even 4:00pm when it’s time for my carefully crafted cappuccino.

This day I have proof of the result of waiting – right outside on my deck. A long-ago plant mystery was solved with the preliminary identification of the plant and then the harvesting of seeds to confirm the identity. This is a particularly special plant to me, having grown it for 30 years in the place I lived before my move to the mountains. I was more than distressed when I feared it did not make it to my new home, and set upon a path to identify and subsequently to grow once. again.

Each year I plant seeds harvested from the previous year, and then I am forced to wait — For the sprouting of the seed, the growing of the plant, and finally this day- two blooms! Definitely a reward for my waiting and for whatever patience I found for the wait.

May Sarton says “Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back in the slow circles of nature, is a help.”

 

I asked “am I better?”
The answer was “you’re bettering”.

That’s a word to ponder. It turns out it is a real word.  I had thought it was a kind of made-up word that stood for “not better, but getting there”.

I found a definition of bettering – “improve on or surpass; changing for the better; in less discomfort than before”.

So I am, in fact, bettering.

It’s easy over time to add layers to our lives– good and not-so-good layers.  Sometimes the latter color, or hide, the former.  So I look at bettering as a sign that some of the negative layers are being peeled away so the more positive layers can see daylight, even see sunlight.

Adding layers is easier that removing. Not all underneath is made of goodness.  Unlayering uncovers both goodness and “not-goodness”.

Hard stuff this uncovering.  And one has to be made of hard stuff to do the cleaning up and out. Am I?

Well, yes and no.  But I have help and that’s what is making the difference for me to be bettering.

“God is in the helpers.”  Anne Lamott

Is it possible to “go home again”?
And what is the home to which we aspire to return?
Just what is HOME?

I traveled recently to my birthplace. With enormous interest in a project a museum curator in northwest Colorado is undertaking, my sister and I returned to Colorado for a few days.

We were both born in Colorado, but neither of us live there now. My sister yearns for Colorado, her home. I’ve been thinking about what I call home these days. It isn’t Colorado.  I love that I was born and raised there, and my heart and soul are touched deeply when I return.  But I don’t really yearn for it.

After I returned I spent some time thinking about where I call home.  Colorado is where I’m from. Texas is where I was for several decades.  And now Georgia is where I live, and where I call home.  It helps that the part of Georgia in which I live is in the Southern Appalachian Mountains and that it has always felt like being in the Colorado mountains.  The word “in” here means when one drives up into the Rockies and is not standing miles back viewing them. But I had not actually called this place my home until I returned from Colorado and spent some time thinking about home.

I did love being back in the Colorado mountains.  Their beauty puts a smile on my face, a lump in my throat, and a hum in my soul.

And I absolutely loved the joy my sister experienced.  There was a smile on her face, and little lilt in her step.

I think the issue here may be how to find home where you are. I see myself holding my home of origin as a place that formed me. Now that I live elsewhere, I am called to make this home. And so I pretty much do so, but still, at times there is longing in my heart for more.

      Fearlessly breathing with the wind
      Home is where you set your spirit down
      I’m at home in all this beauty
      Everything about it moves me
      I may be from another place but home’s where I am now
      Where I am now.

I’m caught up in a song these days. I listen to it over and over. When driving. When in the dentist chair for hours. And just today, while flying. I love the melody and the singer’s voice. But mostly I love the words.

“I want to wake up;
See where I’m going, yeah
Chase what I’m dreaming;
Run away till I out run all my pain
I swear I pray everyday
But still nothing’s changing
Feels like my life might need rearranging
You say that You’re here and right now is a test of faith

So open up my heart and have Your way
I’m sinking in my thoughts so pull me from the waves
My head’s above the water. You’re my sweet escape
I need you just so I can breathe
Now I can breathe, Hey I can breathe
I can breathe, I need you just so I can breathe

You said this feeling
Would only last for a season, yeah
But I’m still here and I’m wondering
Why I’m not the same
I prayed every day
That’s when You changed me
I’m not the same cause You rearranged me
You said You were here–that was my test of faith”

So open up my heart and have Your way
I’m sinking in my thoughts so pull me from the waves
My head’s above the water. You’re my sweet escape
I need you just so I can breathe
Now I can breathe, Hey I can breathe
I can breathe, I need you just so I can breathe

La’Porsha Renae

I’m not certain just whom is being sung about. An individual, or God. I think I hear both. But I’m drawn more to it being a call to God. “Feels like my life might need rearranging”; then “I’m not the same because you rearranged me.”

I know about feeling like rearranging is in order. I also know about going through rearrangement. Actually, I’m in the midst of it. I have all kinds of help. All listen to my words and my heart. And I am helped. Yet, there is another listener I’m learning to speak to. And then to listen in the presence. Then I can breathe.

 

 

At last- the reason for the trip – FOUR VOICES concert.  Four voices being Joan Baez, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Indigo Girls.  Oh my- just seeing those names written together…

Disrupted by weather and air travel, given an anything-can-happen day– here we were in Raleigh, NC, outdoors at the Art Museum of North Carolina for this night of the Four Voices Tour.

Thinking about all it took to get to this night and how eager I was for this moment of music by these amazing women singer-songwriters….  it feels like nothing could stop this experience from happening.  

And so nothing did stop it. The concert happened!

Lining up hours before the doors opened and the concert began, fans carried lawn chairs, coolers, blankets, and sometimes each other.

There was obvious intention and eagerness as we watched all these souls from our parked car.  

You see, we didn’t need to race ahead to stand in line, because we had reserved seats.  I’ve left my years of concert lawn-seating behind.  However, we did realize at the last minute that we might want something to sit on in our reserved seats, so ever the resourceful women we are, we borrowed bath towels from the hotel. Worked like a charm.

As we entered the museum grounds and made our way to our seats, it was immediately clear that we had some amazing seats!  No more than 50′ between us and the stage.  And the rows were elevated so there was no chance the person in the row in front of us could block our view.  Wow!

And so, the much anticipated and longed-for concert began.  And for the next two hours, these four women sang – together, separate, together again.  And some of the time we sang along.  

All the voices rose up as one, to celebrate the joy of making music together, and through song, to question injustice and inequality. We stood, sat, sang, clapped, rejoiced together as one glorious body.

It was the best concert ever!

Travel to this place was long and somewhat arduous. For myself and my friend. Yet, still accomplished. Just in time for the concert, which was the purpose of the journey. 

Then we learned the concert was cancelled due to dangerous weather. 

Then all things necessary to attend the now-rescheduled concert, fell into place. Just like that. 

So we are gifted with a glorious day of doing nothing, yet doing whatever we want to do. 

Beginning with a glorious sunrise. 

And now cuppas. 

Stay tuned for the rest of the day. 

I’ve been unpacking for several months. Unpacking to help answer the “why” in some of my fears. Thirty-three years ago I unpacked my fear of flying.  That unpacking was filled with revelation.

I’ve seen the success of that unpacking in the fact that tomorrow will be my 373rd air travel trip. Such an accomplishment!  I’ve packed for travel near and far because I unpacked.

Currently I’m unpacking weather. Those red triangle warnings stir up more than wind or rain. Or snow or hail.  Or flood.

Flooded. High water.  High fears. High losses. High struggles.

Tomorrow I begin “the journey back home” travel.

A year and two weeks ago I fled.  We fled.  Flooded, and having taken refuge on the 2nd floor, we waited for rescue.  And it came.  It came in the form of a double-kayak.  Room for two to flee.  Not alone, mind you, rather both led by and followed by kayaks.  One pulling, one bringing up the rear.

And now, 56 weeks later, the finishing touches are being carried out on the restoration of home.  Redesigned, rebuilt, repainted, redecorated, reclaimed.

From the last night there, to the first night there.  Fitting.

Literal unpacking awaits my visit. I’m certain my soul-unpacking will happen as well.

Traveling mercies.