God yearns for our flourishing.~Eugene Cho

My mother expected a lot from me sometimes. She'd drop me off at the new school and smile, "Have a good day. See you at three." I longed for her to come into the school with me. I didn't know my way around. I was eight. I could feel my heart beating with anxiety. I hadn't yet sat under the tutelage of Mr. Rogers' wisdom that whispered, "When you don't know where to go or what to do, look for the helpers." A helper did arrive, a friendly teacher who found me wandering the halls. I did know my new teacher's name. The kind helper grabbed my hand and led me to my classroom. I felt relieved to find an empty desk, students still milling around in the chaos of the the first day of school. I wasn't late. My heartbeat slowed. I'd already memorized how to get to the new classroom. Tomorrow would be less scary.

Other times, my mother took me to places I liked to go. She stayed with me. One of our favorite locations was a park near our home. We could walk there. Giant oak trees shaded picnic tables situated on green, hilly knolls. We'd put our sack lunches on a picnic table and my mother would say, "Let's go swing." She'd exclaim, "Let's go really high!" I remember the dip in my stomach when I'd plummet down from that vast blue sky on those days with my mother. I loved to hear my mother laugh. I loved that she liked to swing too. Eventually, she'd make her way back to the picnic table, I could see her leaning back, elbows on the table, her face tipped up toward the sun. 

Won't you set out a traveler's lantern

Just a small light that they might see

To guide them back home before they wander

Into the dark billows that crash on the sea

~Dwight Yoakam (Lyrics from his song, Traveler's Lantern)

 "We had a beautiful year." That's how my friend began her Christmas letter. I wondered how the narrative would read. Life had thrown her for some loops over the year, which she didn't deny. I read on. I could almost hear her singing above the din of disappointment and heartbreak, her voice exuberant with thanksgiving to God. All her children were reading. The family had meaningful encounters with horses at a nearby stable. She and her husband had made gains in their careers. Their faith in God remained hale. Robust. 

Earlier in the year, this same friend had taken time to write me a personal letter. I knew she had little free time. I knew she had her hands full with all the kids, from baby to teen. I knew some of the challenges she faced were harder than mine. Yet she is one of those people who invites transparency without judgment. I wrote to her about some of the anxiety and fear gnawing at my heart. The "what ifs" of life, to put my angst in a nutshell. She wrote back, her words filled with "listening."  Her words like a traveler's lantern that helped me see. That cracked open my isolation. That helped me not give up.

And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.~Raymond Carver

"It feels good to be liked," I said. My granddaughter looked directly into my eyes and nodded, "It does." She smiled then and looked down at the letter she was writing to a boy who had braved to tell her that he liked her more than a friend.

"I want to be honest. I like him too. And I want to say that my parents have rules about boys and dating. I can't date yet. I want him to know." 

I replied, "Well, being honest is a good place to begin. And perhaps you can say what you can do." Her face brightened and she exclaimed, "Yes. We can play our clarinets together. We can share what's important to us. I already know that grades are a priority for him too. That we both like spending time with our families. And I like his smile. I can say that. Do you think that's good, Minou?" 

"That's really good," I said.

It was November--the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.~L.M. Montgomery (From Anne Of Green Gables)

The surprise ending comforted me. I held off watching a PBS series I'd enjoyed for many years. I knew season ten was the last one. I'd come to love the characters. I'd miss them. Feel sad to no longer connect with them. As I moved through each episode, a theme emerged that the family would move to a different town and start a new life. But then, in the very last episode, the family realized they didn't want to pull up roots. They wanted to stay. The last scene showed the father peering through the open door of their home that was no longer for sale. He looked out over an expanse of ocean glittering in the distance, then nodded his head. I could hear the gentle click when he closed the door. The end. Safe inside.

It's that time of year when I feel like Anne of Green Gables. November marks the imminent close of another year. The geese have parted from the pond in the back of our house and the sunsets are vividly orange and deep indigo. Almost purple, the color of ripe plums. The wind is rustling through the pines. Christmas near.

A Prayer of Unknowing

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I'm following Your will does not mean that I'm actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please You does in fact please You. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this You will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore, I will trust You always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for You are ever with me, and You will never leave me to face my perils alone. Amen.~Thomas Merton (From Thoughts In Solitude)

People come to the rescue, just in the nick of time. In my mind, I was a woman standing alone by the edge of the sea. The waves an indefatigable soundtrack. Salt crusted on my lips. Seagulls crying overhead. The sky mildly blue. I pondered my life and decisions I needed to make. Then it was as if I turned my head and envisaged two women walking toward me, one a little older, one considerably younger. Beloved women in my life. Wise women who'd recently talked to me, written emails to me filled with their thoughts and powerfully comforting words. I imagined them linking arms with me and saying, "Let's walk." And in this vision, I walked between them. Our bare feet created indentations along the shoreline. Our faces were lit by sunlight. I felt embraced by their unwavering gaze into my eyes. Their understanding. I experienced their acceptance, even when I shared my confusion, my stubborn need to get justice when I sensed repentance was my better choice. 

And without judgment, these two women, filled with the Spirit of Christ, told me this: