Monday, April 30, 2012

Something to Share

I wanted to share a couple excerpts from the book "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp.

"I wonder too...if the rent in the canvas of our life backdrop, the losses that puncture our world, our own emptiness, might actually become places to see. 

To see through to God.

That that whcihc tears open our souls, those holes that splatter our sight, may actually become the thi8n, open places to see through the mess of this place to the heart-aching beauty beyond.  To Him.  To the God whom we endlessly crave. 

Maybe so. 

But how?  How do we choose to allow the holes to become seeing-through-to-God places?  To more-God places?...

To fully live - to live full of grace and joy and all that is beauty eternal.  It is possible, wildly.

...Bowed at the edge or the world, Jesus asks me spun in circles, me coming to, only to lapse and to forget again, He asks soft of me who is yet again lost what He asked of the man born blind: "What do you want me to do for you?" ...He knows what I want, need.  Has He called me because He wants me to do my plumbing of the soul?  What do you want? Isn't that the sole question we all need to circle back to, over and again?  And who knows the answer? 
   I feel in it my chest first, before any answer or layer of answer finds shape in image words. (For all real answers, don't they come in strata, gradations of understanding?)  My body know it, the way tension drains from shoulders and a heart unknots.  I loosen, breath long.  I slow.  Moonlight cascades and a smile spreads in its wake.  What do you want? Why have I run?...A summer of pain.  ALways running.  A summer of grace.  Always the revelation.  Pain is everywhere, and wherever the pain there can be everywhere grace, and yes, Jesys, I am struggling and I get turned around but I think I know, at least in part, what I want.  If I had never run, if I had never falle, and here, I am not sure I would have known with blazing clarity.  I may not know all that it means, but this is what I want. 

This kingdom laden with glory, this, the pearl of great price, the field I'd sell everything to possess.  This is the pearl that crams me with a happiness that throbs, serrated edge, pit open wide for more of His glory.

The only place we have to come before we die si the place of seeing God.

This is waht I'm famished for: For of the God-glory.  I whisper witht he blind beggar: "Lord, I want to see." (Lk. 18:41)

That's my moaning pulse: "See. See." "

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