The beloved series, Conversations with Ourselves, shall return next Thursday. Today, something else to share. A week ago, I took a much-needed break from the Internet and the politics of the blogging community.
I spent the time in silence, reading the words of other writers with whom my soul finds nourishment.
I walked the longer paths on my way home, baked more bread than I normally do each week, and when I passed strangers on the path, I offered them halves of these extra loaves. When they would ask why, I'd shrug slightly and say something about it being an idea that flitted by my mind in prayer that morning.
(Is it miraculous that no one pushed me to explain more than that? I think so, in the ordinary sense of miracles.)
I prayed about this space, what it should look like in the days to come, the vision I am trying to build.
I rested, hours on end, in the words of beloved Sarah Bessey, that creating is the most significant thing we do.
I turned those words over in my petitions and asked God what it was supposed to look like, lived out, in this digital garden of hopes and wonders.
It's All Saints Day. The sun splits the heavens midmorning and I taste the apple crisp of the wind. Walking to the grocer---do I even dare try and explain that this is a kind of sacrament to me, part of the preparation of holy work?---I turn over the wondering again: what is this to be? What is it that needs saying?
November is going to be an experiment. I am going to try out two mingling ideas.
The first: for the whole of this month, I shall not write a post in negative reaction to anyone or anything.
Bear with me, here, as the definition of negative reaction can be difficult to discern sometimes. The general hope is that what is presented in this space shall be devoted to constructive work. We'll see what all that means in time, but that kind of grace is the underlying principle.
The second: I am going to be venturing into dangerous waters a bit more candidly with you all.
There are things I've been turning over for a few months, a few years, that I want to leap into wondering alongside you all. Hence, I want to stress that these shall be wondering things, not infallible things. Please journey with me and don't write me off if I say one thing out of turn.
I want to dig hands into some hard areas, like how I don't know how to save the children when I get overwhelmed by my clothes, my non-fair trade food, the endless ways in which I hurt the world just by going about my daily life and the struggle to find the space of grace and action; about how a form of purgatory, even the thought that we dare hope none are in hell, of post-mortem salvation, of an almost Trinitarian universalism, is one I have often; the post about reading the apocrypha; what I think it really means to be pro-life ... to name a few.
I want to go to these places.
The dangerous places.
The places I think are beautiful in a way that sometimes frightens us.
I'm extending the invitation for you to come along, because these words mean little without you.
Will you journey, with me, to the dangerous (beautiful) places and wonder along beside me?
See you Monday, when the dangerous work begins.