Divine Autonomy
“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul. And sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all.” - Emily Dickinson
In the branches of time’s ever changing tapestry, there are moments when the very roots of our faith are tested beyond measure. It takes a courageous heart to believe in what cannot be absorbed by the naked eye, it takes a bold spirit to reach above the clouds of doubt and find in the veins of sacred ascension, the peaceful antiquity of purpose beyond circumstance.
It has been a difficult year for so many people who are walking through the tendrils of grief and heartache. Losing a loved one is such a arduous transition and to hold hope for what is yet to come seems a delicate journey when our hearts are hurting and our worlds have changed.
Our farmers too are struggling with nature’s constant acclamation. It seems every time they are given a window of opportunity to get the crops out, nature once again throws another discrepancy into the mix and they are left wondering how they will come out ahead in what sometimes seems like a losing battle.
There is so much uncertainty in our world during this time, holding hope for brighter days can seem a daunting task in the midst of what we cannot control. Life happens, it is a never ending cycle of joy and sorrow, a creation of balance unearthing the core dissection of who we are and who we must become beyond the doubt.
The other day I sat next to an elderly gentleman who greeted me with an all encompassing smile. We visited for quite some time as he asked me where I was from and if I knew one person or another. He was 88-years-old and had been an avid runner most of his life. He told me how he took part in many marathons and how much running meant to him throughout his life.
At one point he said, “I don’t run much anymore but I still work out,” to which I replied, “Well it’s not about age, it is about energy.” He had such a shining personality, his perfect memory and love for life radiated through. As I sat there visiting with him, I thought what an incredible attitude he possessed. He was an inspiration during a heartbreaking moment and I was so very grateful for his unexpected presence in my life at that exact moment.
There have been times when I have felt the pains of loss, the loneliness of solitude, and the discouragement of wondering what it all means in the bigger context of this transformative journey. I have found myself suddenly wiping away tears without the knowledge of exactly which pain or even whose pain I was experiencing in that moment. I have had many conversations with people who are going through their own agonizing grief and when they start to apologize for their tears, I always say, “Don’t you dare apologize for feeling. We all must feel to heal.”
Too often we are taught tears are a sign of weakness when in reality, they are a sign of strength. They are a sign of the great love we felt and the grace of knowing our souls were connected to someone so deeply, our lives intertwined for reasons far greater than this earthly world can comprehend. There is no time limit on grief and each one of us, in our own unique calligraphy, must experience it from our perspective just as we do with the moments that break us and those that sustain us.
I have learned a great many things in my lifetime but one of the most important lessons I have learned is that love always wins. No matter what circumstance we find ourselves in, what lessons are given to us at any given moment, what challenges we are faced with, love is a common thread that is a certainty far beyond the uncertainty. I have also learned hope heals, it is a passenger within the heart’s hallowed holdings and to hold its hand through the tough moments is to know there is always possibility in the seemingly impossible landscape.
Anne Lamont wrote, “Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work. You don’t give up.”
I have come to the realization when I surrender to the journey, with all its ups and downs, joys and sorrows, turns and mazes, shadows and lights, there is a faith filled peace in finding a soul connection to the sacred plan unfolding. When I replace worry with hope, grievance with love, fear with faith, and heartache with healing there is a miraculous newness of spirit that saunters in on the seasonal branches of life’s poetic sanctuary.
On my desk is a piece of art I received from my 5-year-old niece. It is a scrap of wood, on it she glued several stones, each unique in their size and composition. On the top, she glued one large cardboard triangle, and adorned it with two smaller triangles on either side. In the middle is a piece of rusted iron which is bent so the two ends are pointing toward each other. I look at it now and interpret the message from my perspective. The triangles become a message of connection, the stones a glimpse of strength, the iron, a symbol of faith holding all the elements together. Perhaps this is our lives, we are all uniquely composed, forever connected, and constantly loved. We are sacred convergences in a divine autonomy with an infinite path and a spiritual purpose. As the sign on my bedroom wall reads, “Let your faith be bigger than your fear.”