I feel cold inside tonight

and I don’t want to write

because I don’t know who I am writing to anymore

I don’t feel that the Spirit is with me

and my prayer life has been so lost

for so long that I no longer know

how to feed myself

But I know I’ve lost lines this week

in the same way of knowing

I’ve been living in a dream world

for a long time

And in coming finally to reality

finding I might be better or worse

but in the end not that different

and truly the only thing holding me back is me.

Since August my prayer life has been

mostly deep breaths mingled with sobs

to say I am at a loss for words

smoothes the edges of the experience.

Finally unmoored, knowing

I can count on no one but myself and God

and I don’t know if I can count on myself

and I found that I have limited God

For me it doesn’t matter

the lives I never lived

 or the love I never had

because for who I am I’ve done ok.

I know I can weather most anything

Except this last whoosh of introspection

The Pandora’s box in me

the lid blew off, I was forced to see

my life, my love as a continuum

That within a certain paradigm

Every choice and chance made sense

And it does all relate to why I want to serve

Yes I have shocked myself in the process

But I have learned to laugh at it too

Because my cosmology in the end

makes, still makes more sense than the world

The grief of being alone and different

I’ve posited myself there for so long

It never occured to me to pass

As normal, but maybe I could be convinced

To lose this last yoke of nonconformity

And consider success within the lines

Even if only for the sake of translating

A Gospel to the world weary on the other side

But my investment, my judgments, my intimacy fall

When the reason for the structure is revealed

I haven’t loved and trusted myself

enough to make plans

I haven’t cared enough to make a way

outside of my children

But if I care about them I won’t live

as the sacrificial walking dead

I will climb out of this hole

and face the sun

no matter how much I think I don’t deserve its warmth.

In the end it’s no bigger

It’s just an epiphenomena

of me as myself wanting to give myself away

forget myself, be replaced by a more acceptable identity

No one’s told me I’m unacceptable

for at least 25 years.

If I can learn to love and accept myself

even in these mistakes

and learn from them to try again

It’s not even about making it

It’s about finding a place to call home.

My deep hope was in representing the marginalized

and giving my life to holding the door open

to them for grace in a world and even

a Church where forgiveness is hard to find

If I could save one from the fire

of self-hate, loss, alienation, loneliness

that I put myself through for a contrived Christianity

Then it indeed would all be worth it

Because in all truth if grace is what it speaks of

Who are any of us to limit it

We all come fallen, all are redeemed

and frankly we should be on the streets proclaiming it

So if my urgency to call them out who I know and love

From the byways to come and find self-acceptance

Is no more than ambitious lay service

Then let it be so and I will serve

But frankly I see too many cracks

Between theologies and definitions and programs

And our children are falling and dying in the cracks

Someone has to reach out to them

Then I’ll find myself free to be actualized

free to explore and create and love

and I’ll forget this ever happened

and I’ll forget that I thought God had a place to raise up St. Peter’s

and I’ll forget that I thought there would be a renewal

and I’ll live like just another misunderstanding

good natured layperson.


About dropsofspirit

Mom, intermittent theologian, artist, songwriter
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