The world is not my home

I gave ministry this week towards the end of worship. It had been a popcorn meeting, with insufficient space between political rants about the debt ceiling. But I was called to stand, to add one more voice to the mix before we rose.

I was thinking about home as meeting for worship began. Specifically, I was thinking about how I feel like an outsider in most places in my life. There are a couple of songs that reference the idea that home is something that comes after that rose up for me, one being a Sarah Jarosz cover of a Tom Waits tune, "Come on up to the house", which has the line: "The world is not my home, I'm just passing though". Another was Amazing Grace, with the stanza:

Through many dangers, toils, and snares
have I already come.
'Twas Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace shall lead me home.

It's not that uncommon to think about home as being elsewhere, and for me, that sense of home is located pretty firmly in the New Creation. When I was recounting my ministry last night to a friend who had missed Meeting on Sunday, but had heard that I had spoken and asked me about it, I needed to clarify what I meant by the New Creation. What I'm referencing here is a passage from Fox's journal:

Now I was come up in spirit through the flaming sword, into the paradise of God. All things were new; and all the creation gave unto me another smell than before, beyond what words can utter. I knew nothing but pureness, and innocency, and righteousness; being renewed into the image of God by Christ Jesus, to the state of Adam, which he was in before he fell. The creation was opened to me; and it was showed me how all things had their names given them according to their nature and virtue.

Fox had this experience of the paradise of God, of being taken up into the Garden of Eden as it was before the fall. My sense of this is that this is the Kingdom of Heaven and that we can access the Kingdom, through Grace, here on Earth.

My message continued, that as I was sitting in the silence, I was thinking about how I find that those times when I have been permitted to glimpse this paradise, this sense of rightness and pureness are when I have been submissive and obedient to the will of God.

So I did the only thing I could think of. I asked God to give me something to do and almost immediately, it was made clear to me that a small task that was already on my to-do list was a Thing I Needed To Do. Knowing that I had a small, manageable, actionable Thing, as well as knowing that God was listening to me in my time of need made me feel incredible grateful for His Love, for His Presence in my life.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Haiti

So, I have this friend who used to work in the library with me. This fall he left to do missionary work for the Episcopalians in Haiti. He was teaching when the earthquake hit and managed to evacuate himself and the children before the building collapsed. Last I heard, he was camping out in a soccer field. I am so grateful that he is okay, even as my heart is heavy with the thought of the magnitude of the loss of life.
I've been thinking back to the flood that followed Hurricane Floyd in Eastern NC back in 1999. That's my reference for disasters. I'm thinking about the disaster recovery work that I did in the wake of it and how important it was for me to help my community in our time of need. I want to help out with Haiti, but it seems that all I can give at the moment is an insignificant amount of money in the face of such devastation.
So I'm doing the only other thing I can do. I'm praying for the relief efforts to go as smoothly as possible. I'm praying that the death toll with be lower than anticipated. I'm praying for my friend, that he will continue to be safe and have the strength to do the work that is needed in the days to come.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

A poem, and thanksgiving

I'm feeling better, so much better that I'm getting to all the things I've had to set aside over the past eight months. In doing so, I found a poem I don't remember writing:

Prayer

You have always given me
just a little more than I can withstand,
leaving me broken. You know
that I carry each failure
like an aching wound.
These are not garments
I can shed to take on the new.
I am red and raw and cannot
imagine surviving another stripe.

But You have known me
from before I was anything at all.
Only You can heal me
Only You can make me whole.

Oh, Lord, let this be something
I can do.

I have no idea what leading I was resisting, or when I wrote this, except that it probably involved crying the the shower, given some of the scribbles on the same page.

I am so thankful to be far from the place I was in when I wrote that, even if I was there only a few weeks ago.

Love,
E.B.

Doors and Windows

The phrase that so many seem to quote in times of change is, “When God closes a door, he opens a window.” I used to think this was a peaceful image. It seemed to reassure me that there was hope when things ended.

Recently, I have begun to look at this statement differently. However, if there are always doors and windows being opened and closed…at some point several of them are going to be open. This could cause a draft. Not only could this cause a draft but it could contribute to a wind-tunnel of sorts that creates havoc in one’s life. With little bits of paper swirling around—flying here and there. It gets chaotic and messy. And soon these potential opportunities and hopeful reassurances are nothing more than stressful, confusing change. And how do you weigh these things and know which windows are worth shutting and which are worth crawling through? Perhaps I should see it as luck to have too many windows and doors opening and closing on me in rapid succession…but I find it stressful. It can be hard to discern in some situations which is the better option. Sometimes I have kept the door open too long and sometimes I let it shut too soon. But for this year all I ask is please don’t let it be a wind tunnel.

And with this, I begin 2008 year of the purge. God, please let this be a good year. Let my heart and home be happy places so that I may be more faithful in doing your work.

God's baby.

My mother retells a story sometimes (often when she's proud of one of her own kids) about an elder in our Yearly Meeting, whose mother-in-law would remind her "now, Liz, this is not your baby, this is God's baby" upon seeing a child for the first time.

One of God's babies had a very difficult time getting out of the womb over the weekend. His shoulders were too broad and he got his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. Little Elijah stopped breathing, and once they got him out (by breaking his collarbone) it took fourteen minutes to resuscitate him. Needless to say, his condition is rather grave. He is in good hands: his mama who is full up with love, a cutting edge medical team at Duke, and God's.

Via text message this morning, his mother informs me that he is doing "pretty good today" which is encouraging. Your prayers are still appreciated.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

How I'm praying today.

I've been thinking about James' post on prayer and I thought I'd share how I'm praying today. My grandmother is having surgery this morning to remove her gallbladder. It's not a particularly risky surgery, but she is an octogenarian and very dear to me so I'm still quite concerned. When I'm unable to distract myself with work, I've been praying stuff like this:

May Your will be done with as little pain and suffering as possible. Please watch over the hospital staff and my family today, especially my grandfather and mother as they care for my grandmother.

Your prayers are appreciated as well.

Love,
Elizabeth

Conversations with God: How do you pray? Part 1

I know how to settle myself into worship. I know what it is like to be really centered and in that place of expectant worship. And I have tons of informal conversations throughout the day with my version of God. But how do you pray?


I don't even know how to ask for help or guideance in my everyday life from regular folks. How can I possibly do it in my spiritual life? At night I try to pray in a way I began imagining as a child after reading Laura Ingalls Wilder books. But I really feel that sometimes formal prayer is all about wording. Like the saying, "Becareful what you ask for." So it is with prayer. I feel that if I don't word things just right I will indeed get what I am praying for, but not in the ways I had conceived of it.


I am a big believer in the idea that we can ask all we want for something, but the steps we take to work towards that which we pray, through the way we live our lives, is equally important. As a child I used to pray for world peace...which is a really complex goal that has many intricacies, it needs a combination of prayer and personal action. Now I feel like the big stuff, like world peace and a cleaner, safer environment are the backdrop to my conversations with God. God knows my heart, perhaps better than I do, but it is up to me to address issues weighing on me with God. By asking for help and asking God to take up certain things I can let some of it go to do better Works. Granted, I have been only asking for help with two things for many weeks now. Mostly, its because I haven't gotten the wording right...I am terribly fearful at what will happen if we can't make these things work, God and I. I know I should give them over to his wisdom and powers, but the most important one is something I don't know how to give up...and that is the crux of the issue. It is something that I have little control over, yet the thought of living without it is heartbreaking. And the worst of it is, I do not know what steps I can take myself to help God's plan. But I am going to keep praying...because I am not ready to accept a life without the object of my desire.

A story about prayer

I would really like to go to bed right now, but I don't think I can without sharing this story here. I'm in such a good mood that I don't seem to mind this prompting in the slightest.
This morning, I was lying in bed with a terrible migraine. I was feeling worthless for missing work and being weak. I was in a very bleak place, perhaps the worst I've been since I was in the hospital earlier this fall. Lying in the dark, waiting for the migraine drugs to kick in, I was being mindful of how being in physical pain affects my mental health and trying not to take my dark thoughts too seriously.
I tried to think of things that I could do once my headache cleared that would help improve my mood and had the snotty thought that if so-and-so would just call, things would be a lot easier to handle because I've have something tangible to look forward to. I heard the tone of my internal voice and decided to ask for help. I didn't call my therapist, since I was still too sensitive to sound to talk on the phone. I decided to pray.
When I pray, I don't pray for the pain to go away, or for a boy to like me, or for the job I want or to win the lottery or for a specific outcome in an election. I feel that there is too much presumption and pride in asking for these things, as if to ask for my aunt to be healed of breast cancer were questioning God's Plan for her life.
What I do pray for are comfort, strength and/or direction. This morning, I prayed for the strength to get through those dark moments. I prayed for a while and I may have dozed off a little while praying. The next thing I knew, my phone was ringing and the pain in my head was gone. It was that phone call that would supposedly make everything better. The one that might make it easier to be hopeful even when things get really ugly.
It feels good to have gotten what I wanted, but it feels better to know that I did the right thing. I feel centered and holy, even, knowing that in the heat of the moment, in the darkness where I needed Him the most I was able to cast aside the petulant child and be the faithful servant He so desires me to be. It sounds a little like pride, but it is something entirely different. It's the precious feeling that only comes from believing that everything is right between me and God. There is nothing better in the world and I have only found it in perfect obedience.
This evening, I am going to bed with words of praise on my lips. I hope that each of you, dear Friends, can do the same.

With Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

An explanation of sorts

As my father (who has started blogging recently over at A Place to Stand) pointed out to me recently, I haven't posted anything since the end of July. The reason for this is simple. My mental health has declined and blogging isn't as high a priority as feeding myself, changing the litterbox or getting to my doctor's appointments. Blogging requires thought and thinking too much can be dangerous for me when I'm in this dark a place.

I will share this story with you all, however. This past weekend, I found myself crouched over the hospital bed of a dear friend while we waited for the psych consult to arrive. At one point, she was frantic and deeply concerned that God didn't love her because she had done bad things. In order to comfort her, I told her that I also often feel that I am a horrible person who has done unforgivable things. But I also know that God has forgiven me and that God loves me, because He has told me so. I believe that if He can forgive and love me, then that love and forgiveness must be accessible to everyone, because I am so not special.

I don't know how much she retained of that conversation, as her memories of our night in the ER are incomplete and scattered. I do know that in the moment, I was able to comfort her because she physically relaxed a little. It's moments like that, when I can draw on my long and ugly history of living with mental illness, that I can make some sense of why He would let me suffer the way that I do.

I ask for your prayers for myself and for my friend, but especially for all of the people who are helping to care for us.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

P.S. I am starting to feel better and hope to be back to blogging soon.