And while there are so many hilarious moments (and thoughts) to share, which I'm sure would elicit a few chuckles, if not a couple of belly laughs, I find it incredibly curious that the moment strikes when the topic isn't really something that I'm sure I want to get fully involved in. And by "involved," I do not mean "included." I mean absorbed by; engrossed.
I believe that in order to live a virtuous life, it's important to be a perpetual student of life's lessons. I have found that for me, specifically, most lessons aren't learned by observation. In order for me to really "get it," I have to be an intimate participant. And sometimes (ok, often) I don't "get it" the first time. But, inevitably, eventually, I will have that illuminating moment when the switch flips and, "Ahhhhhh!!!!" Gotcha.
The spousal unit and I were reminiscing (over some delicious crab and a glass a Cabernet) about the last several years - all the loneliness and pain, and peeling away of our grip, and refining, and praying (and begging and pleading), and trust, and faith, and unknowing, and thrill, and gratefulness, and rejection, and cruelty, and lies, and mystery, and glory, and celebration. And ultimately our receiving an amazing (and impossible) gift of the desires of our hearts, which began with a dream, and then a hope, and then a move to Colorado. I'm reminded of those long nights when I would be jolted awake by God's voice telling me, "Be specific," and asking me poignant questions like, "Do you believe I am who I say I am?" I remember being so thoroughly in tune with God that when He whispered, I answered, "Yes, Lord."
Prior to the move, I worked in an industry (sadly, an industry...) where there was a lot of talk about authenticity and community, but very little in the way of authenticity and community. It affected us. Deeply. And not in a good way. I look back on those years and see clearly where we were blessed - with close friendships which will never be lost, replaced or forgotten, where we could be completely vulnerable and spiritually naked, and be completely embraced and encouraged. We were blessed with the knowledge and experience of God's presence and provision, and the promise that we are more precious than the birds of the air, and we need not worry about what we will eat or drink or how we will be clothed. I look back on those barren years with fondness. Life seemed desolate, but the soil of my spirit was rich. I'm so, so grateful for the lessons learned.
Lessons don't always reveal themselves at convenient times or in comfortable ways. I'll admit that there are times when I want to tell a lesson where it can shove itself.
But then the still small voice
And then I'm suddenly reminded of the stupid crap that Christians say.
Sorry. That's a bunny trail I'll avoid for this post. (One of these days, I'm going to write a blog about that.)
I'm learning lessons. Lessons that the people we hold in high esteem are faulty, broken people and will ultimately reveal their humanness more often than their humanity. Lessons that conclusions, most often, are something that are jumped to and not arrived upon. Lessons that the miles in someone else's shoes always seem shorter than the miles in your own, until you take the time to review the map. Lessons that any hedge you build around yourself or others will be hurdled on either side. Lessons that they made erasers on the ends of pencils for a reason. Lessons that joy is to be lived, not pursued.
And lessons that the more I learn, the less "the noise" matters.
