Maystorm

OK, so the title of my blog isn't a word. It's just my word for the month of May. I don't know how it happens. It just does. Every year, May blows up somehow. This year has excelled in the blowing up department. Scurry is what I do. Not run errands or go place, scurry. Like a little, frantic rodent.

But into Maystorm has come an additional piece--struggle. All around me, the struggle is raw. I have looked into the eyes of people in these past weeks and seen pain and doubt and fear and grief and setbacks. Through e-mail and text, I've read of struggle and spiritual warfare. Ones I love have sent messages, asking me to pray. And, oh, I've prayed. I've ached that I can't be there, just physically entering the struggle with all the dear ones I know, not knowing all the answers, but longing to be there.

But I did get to enter, just for awhile, the world of one dear one who has spent the past week at a hospital bedside.
I did get to bless, just for awhile, a lonely one wanting to know she is wanted.
I did get to cry, just for awhile, with another one needing to know she doesn't cry alone.
I did get to pray together, just for awhile, with dear ones.
I did get to text and e-mail some dear ones, to send words of love and friendship and truth.
I did get to be with my church family yesterday, just for awhile, feeling the connection with sisters and brothers.
And I did get to celebrate my precious niece's 16th birthday. Her life and her beauty.

And I added to my ongoing "thankful" list. Thank you, God, for letting me into the part of life that is raw and gritty, the part that hurts, that I may not fall into a stupor, forgetting others, dismissing the deep hope of the gospel, and seeking only my comfort and calm.

But still, I wanted to be there.
I wanted to heal.
I wanted to free.
I wanted to do it all.
And then Isaiah's words came:

The Spirit of the LORD is upon me, for he has anointed me to bring Good News to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim that captives will be released, that the blind will see, that the oppressed will be set free, and that the time of the LORD's favor has come.

Except it was Jesus, in Luke 4, repeating the words of Isaiah and saying: IT'S ME. I AM HERE. I AM WHAT YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR. I'M WHAT EVERYBODY HAS BEEN WAITING FOR.

And they tried to kill him.
Because you can't just mess with happily ever after.
You can't just say you're going to do it because we've all been burned by happily ever after that wasn't.
Happily ever after is our deep desire.
But it's terrifying because we're all smart enough by now to know it's not real.

But it is.
It's Jesus.
He's our happily ever after.

And we shake our head.
Whatever. Have you looked around lately? Whatever.
Push that guy off a cliff.
This isn't what happily ever after looks like.

And then Jesus slips away from the edge of the cliff, quietly, waiting for us to turn around, follow.
And he says, "Trust me. I AM your happily ever after. But we're doing this my way. It is but for a little while you still weep. Trust me."

And it's our choice.
Stand at the edge of the cliff.
Full of anger, rage, disillusionment, incurable sadness, cynicism, waiting for the edge to crumble and take us down.
Or follow.
Away from the edge of the cliff.

And before we blink again, we'll be with the Revelation 5 gang, looking at our happily ever after, living our happily ever after, bursting with joy.

To my friends and family, I love you.
And you love me so well.
And if you're still at the edge of the cliff, turn around.
I want you with me and the Revelation 5 gang someday.