"I don’t know what to say. I don’t like praying out loud."
I don’t know what to do with Divine presence. As beautiful as I think my thoughts are about the Divine being as Liz Gilbert says, “in us, as us”, I don’t know what to do with that Divinity. I don’t know how to communicate with It anymore, did I ever?
Sometimes I think of that night. I had woken up at two in the morning to text messages about black hair dye. I was hurt because I felt abandoned, and now that a year has passed, I realize it wasn’t him that I felt abandoned by. I felt abandoned by myself.
What a tremendous loss.
What a death worth grieving.
I was up wailing until five that morning. I had had my own room for a few weeks by then. A 12 by 13 foot cold, concrete room. I soaked there in my self-inflicted isolation, spent silent eternities waiting for text messages, crying about my broken relationship with my mother, forgetting about the papers I needed to write. Thankful that there wasn’t a roommate there to worry about waking up. Thankful that I could be honest with my emotions.
I had already used an entire roll of toilet paper blowing my nose, when suddenly I felt rest. Suddenly I felt a rocking. Back and forth. Back and forth. Gently. Sweetly. My breathing slowed. My sobbing lessened. I was cradled. Sung to sleep by a silent Voice that whispered to me Love that is too valuable to tarnish with words.
I try to remember that night when I forget how to interact with Love.
//
I felt empowered. I looked around the train, my vision enhanced, more open. I saw God. I saw God with Her face forward, staring out at the passing city life. I saw God with His feet kicked up in the seat beside Him. He looked like He needed rest. I heard God say to me, “You look tired.” I smiled, “Probably a little bit”. God was carrying a large tarp filled with clothes and belongings. God was wrapped in cloth, scarves covering Her head, gloves warming Her hands. God was driving the train, God was entering and exiting.
I closed my eyes. I breathed God in, I released. I was in the presence of God. I am in the presence of God now. God is in Her office creating a Kickstarter account to fund raise for the stray dogs in our neighborhood. God is talking to His friends on Facebook. God is answering the phone.
Before turning out the light, God told me that She loved me and that She was there. I told Her thank you. We slept.
Check out other thoughts from Taylor at her blog by clicking the picture below.
I don’t know what to do with Divine presence. As beautiful as I think my thoughts are about the Divine being as Liz Gilbert says, “in us, as us”, I don’t know what to do with that Divinity. I don’t know how to communicate with It anymore, did I ever?
Sometimes I think of that night. I had woken up at two in the morning to text messages about black hair dye. I was hurt because I felt abandoned, and now that a year has passed, I realize it wasn’t him that I felt abandoned by. I felt abandoned by myself.
What a tremendous loss.
What a death worth grieving.
I was up wailing until five that morning. I had had my own room for a few weeks by then. A 12 by 13 foot cold, concrete room. I soaked there in my self-inflicted isolation, spent silent eternities waiting for text messages, crying about my broken relationship with my mother, forgetting about the papers I needed to write. Thankful that there wasn’t a roommate there to worry about waking up. Thankful that I could be honest with my emotions.
I had already used an entire roll of toilet paper blowing my nose, when suddenly I felt rest. Suddenly I felt a rocking. Back and forth. Back and forth. Gently. Sweetly. My breathing slowed. My sobbing lessened. I was cradled. Sung to sleep by a silent Voice that whispered to me Love that is too valuable to tarnish with words.
I try to remember that night when I forget how to interact with Love.
//
I felt empowered. I looked around the train, my vision enhanced, more open. I saw God. I saw God with Her face forward, staring out at the passing city life. I saw God with His feet kicked up in the seat beside Him. He looked like He needed rest. I heard God say to me, “You look tired.” I smiled, “Probably a little bit”. God was carrying a large tarp filled with clothes and belongings. God was wrapped in cloth, scarves covering Her head, gloves warming Her hands. God was driving the train, God was entering and exiting.
I closed my eyes. I breathed God in, I released. I was in the presence of God. I am in the presence of God now. God is in Her office creating a Kickstarter account to fund raise for the stray dogs in our neighborhood. God is talking to His friends on Facebook. God is answering the phone.
Before turning out the light, God told me that She loved me and that She was there. I told Her thank you. We slept.
Check out other thoughts from Taylor at her blog by clicking the picture below.
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