3 Candles

I've had a much needed quiet evening.

My heart is feeling slightly more settled.

Little things have helped:
the first home-cooked meal all week.
resting on the couch.
early into bed.

I needed light and hope tonight. When I retired to my room, I glanced at the Advent wreath I placed on my dresser several weeks back and realized that if there was ever a night when I needed the reminder the glow of the Advent candles bring, tonight was it. So, slowly, carefully, I lit the three for the weeks we've journeyed through thus far. 2 purple and a rose. And I paused for just a moment to breathe and remember and hope and long for the coming of the light.

In a few moments I'll extinguish them, and head for sleep, but tonight 3 candles were life-giving.

I want to unfold

I was re-reading some lines I copied down about a year ago, from a book called "Rilke's Book of Hours" - a beautiful collection of poetry by Ranier Maria Rilke, and I came across the following lines, which moved me:

I want to unfold.
Let no place in me hold itself closed,
for where I am closed, I am false.
I want to stay clear in your sight.

Broken

I'm thinking a lot about a line from Psalm 51 this morning: "You have broken me, now let me rejoice."

The transition between worlds that I wrote about yesterday was harsher even than I knew at the time I wrote.

My heart is bruised and shattered.

I'm working to not assign blame, to not hate, to not play the "what if" game. Because, as a dear friend reminded me last night, speaking out the truth my heart was already wrestling with, "Jesus doesn't blame that person, or hate them."

The same friend reminded me that sometimes broken is "sweetly broken".

And so, I'm resting here. Praying deeply for those I love. Praying for my own heart scattered about in bits on the floor.

There are two days of work left. I just need to get through them. This week has been full. Too full. I need a weekend, and some rest. I need the ability to stay in bed, to curl up with scripture and a journal, and to be broken in peace, without needing to put on the facade of wholeness that my job requires.

"You have broken me, now let me rejoice."

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy.