Sunday Musings

Just wondering . . .

on a summer Sunday night,

with cool night air drifting in from the door

and sweet worship music on 

the computer.

Just wondering . . .

what comes next?

We're home this week,

when we thought we'd be gone.

Traveling to the northwest,

to see beautiful country,

and beautiful friends.

But we're not. 

So here's a calendar,

suddenly open.

And here's a body,

more tired than I knew . . .

wondering.

My mom-in-law

began to slip,

 down

and down.

And her daughter had long-laid plans

to be gone.

It didn't feel right to be gone at the same time,

so here we are.

And really, it's fine.

We're relieved not to be packing and unpacking.

We look at each other and wonder -

how come we're feeling so tired?

When did we get so old?

And that has me wondering. . .

what happens in this culture

as we get old?

We see lots of pictures of

green space,

golf games,

exotic travel,

smiling, silver-haired models

seem to say,

"It's time to relax,

to enjoy the fruit of your labors,

to remove yourself from the world of work."

But here's what I'm learning.

It's truly difficult to do that.

I love to travel - I do.

But not all the time.

And I love to relax - I do.

But not all the time. 

So, we put our hands to what we find.

My husband, gifted with finance and investing,

sits on boards and committees,

and he manages the money he so carefully

invested for us,

for our moms,

for other family.

He tends this huge yard,

with good professional help. 

He invests himself completely in our grandkids

when they're around. 

And I?

I sit in my small study which needs sorting.

And I meet with those who are seeking

more of God.

And they teach me far more than

I ever teach them.

 And I tend to family, too.

Ailing mothers, growing grandchildren.

I make spinach salad for 50 at our
first-Sunday-back-to-college student lunch
after church today.

And in, around and through all of that,
 I try to write.

But I'm late to this game,

really late.

And I am also way past the age of most

of my compatriots out here in cyberspace. 

Most of the time, I'm okay with that.

But tonight, I'm feeling out of place,

out of sync,

out of my element.

I'm sure this wondering phase will sort itself out.

And I'm talking to God about it,

in my usual, on-going conversation

with this One who seems both near and far,

surprisingly small,

yet immense.

And right this minute,

I am listening to the song I wrote about 

in this post, the one about bodies.

And the beauty of it pierces,

it pierces through all the wondering,

all the melancholy,

all the feelings of uncertainty 

and ego-centered angst.

Because THIS is the truth - 

and a woman who lived many centuries ago*

wrote these words,

in another tongue,

another place.

But her words, her insights

speak to my soul this night, in this place:

I cannot dance, O Love, unless you lead me on.

I cannot leap in gladness, unless you lift me up.

From love to love we circle, beyond all knowledge grow.

For when you lead, we follow, to new worlds you can show.

Your love the music round us, we glide as birds on air,

entwining soul and body, your wings hold us with care.

Your Spirit is the harpist and all your children sing;

her hands the currents 'round us, your love the golden strings. 

Play me a medley,

play me a song.

Lead me, I am yours.

I cannot dance alone.

O blessed Love, your circling unites us, God and soul.

From the beginning, your arms embrace and make us whole. 

Hold us in steps of mercy, from which you never part,

that we may know more fully the dances of your heart. 

I cannot dance, O Love, unless you lead me on.

*Our Director of Worship Arts, Bob Gross, wrote a lovely melody to go with these powerful words written by Mechtild of Mageburg in the 13th century. This translation was done in 1991 by Jean Wiebe Janzen, but the words in bold are Bob's addition and serve as a beautiful refrain throughout the piece. Since I first wrote about this beautiful, haunting song, Bob has included it on #5 in a series of self-produced CDs taken from our Sunday worship services. And if you would like to listen to it, follow this link right here and scroll down to number six on the list. Hit the play button and enjoy. (If you use the contact addresses on the home page, you can order CDs for yourself. We are a congregation of about 325 people and apart from Bob, everyone you hear is a volunteer - vocalists, string players, acoustic and electric guitars and bass, piano, wind instruments, percussion - all from within our own community, many of them college students. We are so blessed. SO blessed. Please remember, these are not studio sessions, but live worship recordings.)

I'll join this with Michelle, Jen, Duane, Ann's Monday gratitude group - because I am grateful, even for the melancholy times - and maybe with Laura and Laura, though it's not particularly playful nor is it about a physical place so much as an emotional one.