next stop, promised land.

those words are beyond my comprehension. to be going to a place unknown, unseen, yet ripe with promise and hope. i can hardly imagine it. when i contemplated the actualities of our relocation, i got excited. the last week has been a blur of details and i am glad it is at an end.

but goodbye begins in earnest today, i expect to cry many tears. the best thing about a heart of flesh is that it feels. the worst thing about a heart of flesh is that it feels. when i find myself in places of utter vulnerability with people i love, i sometimes wonder if it is worth the pain. every time, i answer, yes.

sometimes this past week i wanted to numb out and just get through it, but i'm glad i didn't. i'm glad i was able to be amidst the flurry and rush, feeling. alive.

i wrote a poem the other night about the missing of a departed soul. here it is:

i keep looking
as if watching
the horizon
will make you
suddenly appear

i keep waiting
as if lingering
close to
will make you
return to me

i keep dreaming
as if hoping
could change
anything

i keep praying
as if power
were mine to
bring you back.


it is well. it is all well. hopefully i'll blog monday.
peace!

genuinely disliked.

some part of me wishes leaving didn't involve saying goodbye. i know i will see those that matter again, in this life or the next. it is just hard. my best friend was telling me, new york is a different world (she grew up in jersey). she said,

here they act friendly even if they don't like you but it doesn't mean anything.

i said,

that is why i had such trouble here.

she said,

there, they act like they don't like you and they mean it.

i'm from LA, i understand this. it has taken me a long time to adjust to the disingenuous friendliness, because being from LA, they genuinely didn't like you either. i'm so looking forward to being genuinely disliked. i'd rather have that any day than fake kindness. or feigned interest. i've no ability to tell the sheep from the goats then. they all act so nice.

if i had known this last bit of wisdom while still here, it would have grieved me. i had opted out of many fakey friendly encounters but hadn't known why. ah, the mysteries of the universe are being solved.

i'd rather people deal with me honestly. if you don't like me, don't act like you do. the umph won't be there anyway, and you'll save me a great deal of trouble and bewilderment because i won't understand. you see, i'd rather be alone than around fake friends.

but deny me those who love me with genuine love, and i would likely die. i hadn't realized what a truly blessed woman i am. until now.

likely God.

i have heard over the years how marathon runners hit "the wall." well, i hit the wall sunday night. monday i could barely keep my eyes open when i awoke. so i went back to sleep for a while.

i prayed for the rush of euphoria, of God's strength to infill me because i had nothing. my tank was utterly dry and i was coasting downhill. monday flew by actually, and i did get a second wind from somewhere, likely God.

my best friend kept saying, and was still saying yesterday morning,

suz, you're not going to make it. we've got to pick up the pace.

and i said,

i can't go any faster.

understand i've been purging and packing our junk for a full week today. without a day of rest. without any break of any significance, just a couple hours here and there. in the midst of it all i'm writing a book, so my days start at 5:30 and end around 11:30. i'm fried. completely.

but the purge ended yesterday, and we moved into rapid packing mode because everything left is either going into storage or with us. i have only two rooms left to pack and my master bath. i think i'm going to make it. my best friend finally agrees.

i wanted to take three days to get to ny. it is symbolic, three days descent to dust, and then reemerging at the beginning of a new journey. but i am told my husband and his best friend are going to try to get us there in two days. so much for my poetic angle on this drive. i'll be grateful to arrive earlier, but the metaphor is blown if we get there in two days. bummer.

today i really believe it is going to be all right. i'm not just saying that anymore. i believe it.

plan b

i've lived my life largely without an exit strategy. without knowing where i'll go or what i'll do incase we lose air pressure in the main compartment. i'm not sure if those oxygen masks are even standard equipment. that is how unprepared i am for eventualities.

the gospel i read says,

take neither tunic nor sandal, just go.

it doesn't say, and be sure to rent a really big storage shed to keep your stuff for your eventual return. it nowhere says, and leave a string trail so you can find your way out of the darkness the presence of God will most certainly plunge you into.

i can't find that. granted, i haven't looked. but i don't really think it is there.

God is my escape plan. God is my refuge. God is my eventuality. whether it goes ill or well, He is all i've got my hopes hung upon.

i am so utterly exhausted right now, my eyelids feel heavy and i just woke up. the weight of blinking is not something i am used to dealing with or even thinking about. i think my back started spasming last night. but i've not yet begun to pack in earnest, granted i've purged like a bulemic after thanksgiving dinner but not packed much (my friends, bless their souls, have done much of that for me).

the miracles of our departure are mounting and i am convinced that God is able to get my family to new york in six days. He fashioned an entire world from chaos, packing my house isn't that big of a deal in the scheme of things.

miracle # 8592: we are within walking distance of a library. i hope it's a good one, nothing worse than being by a library that sucks.

so when i leave texas, i don't want to look back. i don't want to come back. i just want to cut the cords and move forward. i was thinking none of the israelites came back, the red sea was flowing and they didn't really have that option. plus, they all got wiped out, but for me, i just want to move forward not back. and i see new york as forward movement.

miracle #256: there is a monastery within walking distance of my home, too.

and a whole bevy of churches. a cornucopia of faith. i'm too tired to make any dazzling points, so let me just say, i don't think jonah had an out either, but God took care of it all. yes, i am encouraged.

trust

right now a great many miracles have to happen for me get through this move. i have to somehow get vast reserves of energy. my daughter has to be cared for. she has no toys out essentially (poor planning on my part).

the purge goes well, but i'm very tired.

there are a great many things i could tie myself up in knots about right now, but i am opting to trust. Trust God that it will be all right. i keep saying, as if to convince myself, it is going to be all right. it is going to be all right.

even if nothing goes as planned. even if we don't know where to live when we get there. even if we have to trust God wholeheartedly to get us through this. it is going to be all right. it is going to be all right.

it has to be. everything has worked out in the past. just a few more challenges this time, but God is able. i have learned that through my many years, i have seen so many miracles of working out details. it is going to be all right.

if you talk to me, remember to join in this refrain,
it is going to be all right.

unkindness of ravens

i've wanted to write about ravens for a while. they get a bad rap. native people in some areas think them harbingers of evil, some others revere them. i guess that is how it goes, can't please everyone.

i am quite fond of the raven. trickster that he is. i hadn't seen many around the entire time i've lived here, but they have begun moving in. perhaps it was too rural and they are inclined to scavenge. not sure.

either way, to be so lustrously black you're almost blue is inspiring to me.

i'm packing like a mad woman and my friends are telling me, pick up the pace suz. you're not going to make it. i keep thinking, i'm not going to make it if i do pick up the pace. my back has never ached for the sake of aching. which now, it does. feels like a metal rod is shooting through it.

i'm tired and cried myself awake this morning. hadn't had that experience before. like i didn't get enough of the tears out during the waking hours, i began to weep while i was sleeping.

i don't know what God has up His sleeve, but i hope He's like the samurai with all kinds of junk up there. because i need several successive miracles, the kind israel needed, to get free from this bondage. to find my way out of slavery.

my stuff rules my life, apparently. my husband doesn't want me to take my books with me. he may as well have told me to not take my clothes. what will i do without my books. everything else i am willing to part with, but my books are a familiar comfort.

maybe i can take less clothes. but i do have about a hundred boxes (rather small, 12x6x6) full of books. and i have to leave them here in texas for a while. in storage.

Lord have mercy. i hadn't planned on that happening. i need an unkindness of ravens to come and feed me sweet meats to keep me alive, for i am famished.

undone

i survived my daughter's first night away. i missed her as i would miss my soul. the pecuilar gift of children is they help adults keep it together, at least, she has always helped me this way.

when my Grams died, i had to keep moving forward. i had to grieve, but i also had a then two-year-old who needed to be fed, changed, nurtured. she, more than anyone, required my presence. and i fought my desire to drift away in grief, so i would remain present to her. with her.

she is well cared for. she is with a dear friend. i know this. i must trust this. i awoke this morning in tears, overwrought.

almost as soon as i walked in the house yesterday, i fell apart. overtired. overstressed. undone.

i even read my bible in 3d. i read it online for prayer, but the law written on my heart and mind is what i contemplate. the indelible ink of the Lord, is what i feast upon. the Living Word.

there is a line from shakespeare in love where mr. henslow, speaking to mr. ferryman (the money) says,

the nature of the acting business is one of insurmountable odds on the road to imminent disaster.

what do we do?

nothing. strangely enough, all turns out well.

how does it?

it's a mystery.

that scene is the story of my life. trusting the mystery. embracing the unknowing. resting in the palm of His hand, knowing it to be the only place of certainty, safety.

being found by my dear friend from high school has revealed something to me, the losing touch with those i love, the not knowing if they are even alive (i'm so dramatic), leaves these vast reservoirs of doubt. or had left these vast reservoirs. i question the stickyness of God sometimes, because i have been left, not by the will of my friends in many cases, but by life. we are all left. people must keep moving forward. soon i leave some of the people dearest to my soul, but i do not abandon them.

though they no longer have the consolation of my tangible presence, they have my love. they have always had my love. and they always will. it is thus with God. i must trust it. i must understand, there is a promised land ahead and i must go forward.

come then, go with me.