Like a prayer

 I'm not sure what is happening with Bunny right now.  For those who don't know, a service called GTL is the phone payment service that the prison system uses in Indiana. I put money into an account and she has permission to call my phone number only. Regardless of how much money is in her account, the phone automatically disconnects after 20 minutes. This phone is in her unit (where she sleeps) so she is able to call nearly every day before lights out at 8:30pm, as long as there aren't other girls using it or they have been restricted to their bunks for some reason. There is a long automated message every time informing us of how to block calls from the prison with other legal disclaimers and messages, and then, after the minute long robo-voice, we hear Bunny's sweet soprano saying "Hello". There are only two ways she says it - one for when she is upset and one for every other day. 

We discovered that the times she is restricted to her bunks, she has tried to call from her tablet device which is supposed to support internet calling. It hasn't worked - but sometimes, she can hear us and we can't hear her. We didn't receive a call from her yesterday and then today she called and we couldn't hear her, but we think she could hear us. The first time the phone rang and I couldn't hear her, I told her to hang up and call back. And she did. The second time I offered to keep talking to her and she could just listen. So, for the the full 20 minute phone call David and I simply told her what we were thinking, how we missed her, and how much we loved her.

I could picture her holding a phone to her ear. I could imagine her voice speaking back to me. We could guess what she would have said and how she would have responded. When you know someone's heart so well, you can talk to them like they were there. I've done that with my Nana - talked to her about something I knew she would love or something I knew she would say about a current situation. Even though she has been gone for years, I can hear her voice - her soft whistle - I can see her face with a gleam in her eye when she was pleased about something. 

It made me think about praying - that the further I feel from God, the more one-directional my prayer feels. He feels distance and cold - unreachable. Phantom-like. A concept without substance.

But when I'm attuned to His presence - when I am in step with His heart - I can speak everything I am thinking and actually know what his word would say back to me. I can hear a gentle whisper in my mind telling me things that are true about him - who he is - how he loves.

Part of the divine mystery is to be united to something we have never seen - never heard - never known. Even more mysterious is how many times we see His hands, we hear His voice, we know His will. 

2/3rds of her unit either had COVID or COVID symptoms. Maybe the healthy girls have been restricted to their bunks to keep the safe and that's why she couldn't use the regular phone. Maybe she came down with symptoms and now is isolated. Maybe the phone was just being stupid and she's absolutely fine. 

But no matter what, I know she heard me. I know she heard my love. And in the quietness of the other end of the line - I knew her love for me too. 

And as I pray, in the quiet stillness, I can hear His love. I can be confident in His love for me - and for her. 

Shadows and whispers

 For us, the world tilted off its axis on January 8th. For everyone else on the planet, it was about March that it became clear nothing in 2020 would be what we expected. We passed through this year recognizing and sometimes grieving that this year was simply a shadow of what it might have been. 

Now with Christmas lights casting shadows on the edges of the world, I can’t help but think that Christ experienced so much more of this shadow existence we have walked. 

We missed our churches, singing along to our laptops in our homes. He joined the broken voices of mortal men, having left the heavenly host singing to the throne. 

We missed our friends and family, keeping our circles small and safe. He left oneness with the trinity - a perfect harmony - a perfect peace. 

We treasured our walks in parks - a brief moment without a mask, seeing the trees and blossoming flowers - giving thanks for every sunset and starry sky. He walked on the earth he had breathed into existence - the Word that had brought something from nothing - and listened the ground groan beneath him as it longed to be restored to the glory He intended. 

As the hymn reminds us “Thou who was rich beyond all splendor, all for loves sake becamest poor”. 

While during Christmas we focus on the gift, putting off the unpleasantness of the crucifixion until Holy Week, Christ’s poverty began the moment He took a mortal breath and limited himself to mere shadows and whispers of the existence he knew in heaven. 

Maybe we needed this type of poverty. Maybe we needed to be shaken from our comfort and routine to remember that on our very best day on this earth - the most it can ever be is a step on the journey homeward. Maybe from this sense of loss we will finally glimpse what his gift really meant. 

We all have affirmed in our hearts and minds to never take for granted the joy of gathering together - or hugging and holding all those we love - of seeing each other face to face - being wholly present. 

And just maybe we can use this gift of perspective to see these moments as He did - shadows and whispers - and yet worth savoring - and saving. 

Love moved first

This has been a week. Tuesday night Bunny unleashed all of her emotion over the phone at me and I was nearly catatonic at the time she hung up on me. But - as David said - I was her safe space. And it was better for her to use me as a punching bag then get into a fight with one of the girls at the facility. Imagine dozens of teenage girls tucked into a single room, barreling towards the holidays, having not seen family in over 9 months, with no sign within their four walls of anything special to come. Of course she needs to vent. Of course she needs an outlet. 

Without any resolution to the tension I was feeling or even confidence that we would speak to her soon, David and I got up the next morning and drove 61 quilts to deliver to DOC. We came upon the building in the middle of a field - surrounded by double layers of razor wire and extraordinarily tall fences with warning signs all around - here was my daughter’s residence since March 18. 

Sighing the paperwork to donate the quilts, I was maybe 25 linear feet from her. I could see the “unit 3” logo on the wall just inside the heavy security door. Reading the emergency evacuation diagram on the wall in the outer waiting area, I saw that there was one hallway and a bunch of brick and mortar - and then - my daughter. The closest I’ve been since March 10th. It felt farther than ever. 

The last 72 hours has been fraught with delays in emails, delayed appointments, DOC phone systems not working well, ancillary frustrations and general 2020-ness. Not great. 

I was acutely aware of Screwtapes advice to Wormwood - the powers of darkness didn’t have to do anything big or overt to sway us from love and mercy - just nudge. I realized the inconveniences and frustrations we have felt so consistently though this difficult time are primed to nudge us to anger - to despair - to hopelessness - to taking out our emotions on whoever happens to be there. 

And yet...

Love moved first. 

Casting Crowns sings “you didn’t wait for me to find my way to you. I couldn’t cross that distance even if I wanted to. You came running after me, when anyone else would’ve turned and left me at my worst. Love moved first.”

Through this year of rubble and ruin I have seen God move before us time and time again.  Psalm 193:5 says “You hem me in behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.” At my worst self - my most selfish - arrogant - proud - fearful self - I cannot undo the grace He already gave. I never earned his love to begin with - which means I can’t loose it either. 

Just like my daughter continues to be my daughter even when she’s mean to me. And I continue to be David’s wife even when he is the most convenient outlet for my own frustrations. Love doesn’t wait for the apology. Love doesn’t make you earn your way back into good graces. When you have your back turned and are stamping your foot - love comes to you.   

The darkness can try to nudge its way in - to press us towards our baser-selves. To only see the wrong and be blinded to the persistent cosmic shift around us. Because no matter how tempting it is to give up on each other - or even ourselves - love moved first. 

Peace on earth Goodwill towards men

 My mom brought me a beautiful holiday floral bouquet with a chorus of “we wish you a merry Christmas” and I nearly burst into tears. I already know I will not have a merry Christmas. (So does she, but if you know my mother, you know she is rarely found without a song in her heart and on her lips.) 

My house is silent and unadorned- I am not walking through Advent season as I have in years past - solemnly with prayer and fasting - or joyfully with praise and singing. December 25 is a date on the calendar to move past as I wait expectantly for my own child to come. 

And then I thought about that...how this season - like Mary - I am awaiting a child that will bring with it comfort and great joy.  My own advent season began on January 8 and will continue well past Christmas Day. And yet - I thought about how Jesus was Mary’s promised son - but He is our promised savior. I realized how Mary was waiting for one thing - but like all of Christendom - she was also waiting for Immanuel. God with us. 

God being with us - with me - is the only thing that has brought us through this year. And then suddenly a different song was on my heart - I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day. 

My favorite hymn by far, these words caught in my throat:

“And in despair I bowed my head. There is no peace on earth I said. For hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth, goodwill to men.” 

That’s me - right now - today. But that isn’t the end of the song - or the story for that matter. It continues:

“Then pealed the bells more loud and deep - God is not dead nor does he sleep. The wrong shall fail and right prevail with peace on earth, goodwill to men.” 

I’m not going to be decking any halls with holly - but the truth of Advent is that we are reenacting what has already occurred. Jesus already gives us peace. Not of this world, but His own. The peace He shares with the Father, he gives to us while we walk this broken land. (Need a little extra encouragement? Check out John 17)

Christmas Day, like every other day that should be a celebration this year, will be hard. But the peace He brings will help get me through until I can celebrate with Bunny - Christmas in March (or January) is closer to Jesus’ actual birthday anyway....