previews of paradise

Naked, but not cold, I stood by the side of a lake and grinned at the beaver that stared curiously back at me. I swam - quick, unprofessional strokes, hampered by my happy laughter - then settled in the water, floating and watching the birds above as they wished the Sun good afternoon. The breeze rippling the water's surface made me shiver, reminding me that January doesn't often pair well with an outdoor swim. Rushes grew all 'round the edge; I waded easily through the silt and water toward the shore. The air was chilly, but this only made me more glad for the maroon towel I'd left on the bank. A brisk rub down got the water off and left me glowingly warmed.

I played wood sprite - dancing along the shore, singing with the birds, curling up on felled trees, and watching as the beaver resumed his patrol. I didn't want to leave, didn't want to pick up the burdens I must carry. Everything of society was packed in a little bag that I'd left under that tree - only my towel and the litter that makes it even to such secluded spaces murmured vaguely of humanity, technology, and normal life.

All things must end (though none need be forgotten) and time saw me clothed, shod, and strolling back to my little apartment, but on my heart's wall a mural had been painted. There was a little lake, a few hundred trees, goldfinches on twigs so slim a breath should snap them, and a lazy, belligerent beaver, slapping the water into geysers - a demigod if ever there was one (or so he heartily believed).

the normal Christian faith

Sent here to find ... what?

You've sent me to find me. You've sent me to find You. You've sent me to learn the ease with which I pick up these masks, postures, words that surround me. I am to become something here, something I do not yet understand. I think I see the beginning.

I have become disgusted with what I've been becoming; I want to change it. I forget, but I catch myself forgetting more often than I used to. I'm beginning to understand what the concept of getting one thing because you want another more means. "Have as not having" is starting to make sense. I do not see how all these things mesh together. You've started showing me that seeing all would overwhelm me even more than not seeing has.

I feel as though I'm in a battle with myself, that I must overcome myself before I can even begin to step into You. I have been through so much and lived through it; I have withstood things that I didn't think were possible. I am strong. How, then, do I take this strength and subject it to You so that it can really be free? Your weakness is stronger than my strength, Your foolishness wiser than my wisdom, but until I push through the end of me I cannot reach the beginning of You. Still, I know what I want to be.

I want to be Joy. I want to have joy so palpably in and on and through me that it rubs off on everyone around me. I want to please the people I love and to make strangers smile. I want to be honest. I want to be real, regardless of what it makes people around me think. I want to stop caring what people think about me and start caring about people again. I want to love him, and him to love You, and I want You to want that. I want to find You and get lost in You. I want You to be pleased with me, and I want to feel Your pleasure.

Not so long ago, I was sitting on my bed, asking You what You were doing. I talked about how I had lowered myself into me and stayed out of Your way as You worked Your will in me. I talked about feeling betrayed. I talked about feeling pushed and hampered and annihilated. Then I heard what I was saying; I realized what part of me was talking. "I'm dying - kill me," remember?

I need to "die" before I can be "resurrected". I need to lose sight of myself in You before You can show me who I am. If I keep only my strength, I will not be able to face what is before me. I need Your strength. To get that, I need to have You in me. For You to be Lord, I can't be. Get me there.

I'm dying. Kill me.