Drops of Water, an Oasis, and Writing

These have been days of reflection. Change does that to me. So does the desert. When it's barren, the sun's imprint on sand forces concentration. As if my own, tiny, centered microcosm of the world can be found in the captivating white glare. Days like these are both frightening and liberating. The process leads to redemption, an oasis for the soul, that sometimes lasts only for ten minutes, other times days, weeks, and when God really gets at us, or at least, when we let God carve into the deepest of our hearts, this particular oasis might be a source of nourishment for a lifetime.

These are the rarest of times. Mostly because they are the culmination of liquid moments, life-giving truth squeezed into our hearts by something seemingly as tiny as a baby's medicine dropper. Eventually Jesus brings you to an oasis, a well of water filled with the drops of water you never knew existed... or at least forgot about. I think that's why God tells us to write things on the tablets of our hearts. Because when your tablet gets dusty and it's time to re-examine, small inscriptions of truth from previous sips of faith remind you of what is real. I suppose the goal is to never let our tablet get dusty, but, well, we keep striving.

Last night was a culmination point. A rather disturbing one - as I was confronted with myself - the dusty, dark, human flaws that I have the hardest time overcoming. I think Jesus loves our flaws - (and I'm not just talking about my forgetfulness, clumsiness, kitchen disasters, and sometimes scary driving) - because He knows the work of redemption through Himself that the Father brings. But death has to come first, and death is never fun.

I'll spare you the details, because this is a blog, but it has to do with something our sometimes stupid puppy brought out in me (I tried to convince JD that we needed to take him back last night after he bit me several times, peed in our house twice, and vomited on the carpet, but he said no), my innate challenge to finish things, and the piece of my heart I am wrestling with God over. Perhaps if I write a book some day, I will tell you the whole story. Not now.


On a completely different note, I have decided that if I were ever to write a book, I would liken my writing style to Anne Lamott's. Except I probably wouldn't use the F-word so much. I do like her awareness of her and others' humanity, however. Her writing is raw, brilliant, offensive, and liberating. More than that, her life is devoted to figuring things out and following Jesus the best she knows how. Right-wingers beware, she hates the Bush administration, but is trying to love the president. :) I underlined this piece of advice concerning writing last night: "Pay attention, take notes, give yourself short assignments, let yourself write shitty first drafts, ask people for help, and you own what happens to you." I now keep my journal with me at all times. A wise person told me that God wants our post-it notes just as much as the long, holiest of prayers. Ever since then, I try to use my journal as an avenue of giving God, well, everything.

Today we are going to the beach with some friends. We will bbq tri-tip, chicken, spicy sausage, corn, eat my uncle Allan's macaroni salad, potato chips, and fruit (my favorites), and play in the waves. Brother spent the night last night so he could come too - I do like having my brother on the island. Today is going to be a good day.