This week I found myself in an all too familiar place of trying to be the mad mamma getting dinner on the table, baking cupcakes for a tenth birthday which I had completely forgotten about, caregiver to many, and I was accomplishing nothing successfully aside from misery. I was trying to do and be the super woman that I think everyone needs me to be. Which leads me directly to the question what am I doing with my time? Ann was in that very place at the beginning of chapter 6. In the middle of the busyness that had taken over and suddenly she takes flight to capture the eucharisteo, a full moon, that she had been longing for. Ann certainly was not longing for the brightness of a full moon to capture her eye that evening but the mighty presence of a Creator. Admittedly Ann explains that she hadn’t taken the time that day to stop and capture even one gift. Not one thought penned in the journal nor any photos captured with the camera.
The chapter's beginning is very familiar for so many of us!! Which one of us haven't felt pulled in too many directions, or overwhelmed and exhausted, near to the breaking point at some time? It is also a humbling reminder of how one day, full of captured moments of thanksgiving, can seem so different from the next day, when pressures and demands mount and blind the eye to God's presence in His many gifts to us.
On page 106 Ann writes, “ I am a wandering Israelite who seeks the flame in the sky above, the pillar, the smoke from the mountain, the earth open up and give way, and still I forget…I am empty of truth and need the refilling. I need come again every day – bend, clutch, and remember – for who can gather the manna but once, hoarding, and store away sustenance in the mind for all of the living?” The answer is different for each and every one of us and that thankfully is how God created us to be. However, the question remains the same, what do you want?
Ann is often weaving into her text deep words that are her own as well as those of other authors. When she describes herself as "Sehnsucht for beauty, that word C. S. Lewis used from the German - to long for (sehnen) like a mania (sucht)" (p. 109), we have such a strong understanding, even visual image, of the depth of desire she is experiencing.
Ann, in her hunger for God, compares the depth of her desire to find beauty, God's glory, to an addiction and reminds us on page 110 that "every moment I live, I live bowed to something. And if I don't see God, I'll bow down before something else." Oh, I, too, long to see God each and every moment of the day. Developing a true heart of gratitude begins with the eyes.
The eyes and our perceptions definitely impact our ability to express gratitude and thanksgiving. When Ann writes, "faith is always a way of seeing, a seeking for God in everything... if the eyes gaze long enough to see God lifted in a thing, how can the lips not offer eucharisteo?" (p. 114), I was challenged. How often do those around us ask, "Where was God when...?" or "How could God allow...?" and the blindness of their lack of faith is so evident. It is only when we have faith, the "confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see" (Hebrews 11:1), can we rest in knowing that God is being glorified in all of it - even the ugly - and using it to transform and thus be able to offer eucharisteo.
We often find ourselves looking for God as if He is nowhere to be found. Just as in Isaiah 45:15, "Truly you are a God who hides himself," we think, and may actually believe, it is God who is hiding. Often we do not even fathom that it is we are in hiding.
I am reminded of a friend this week who was chatting about a quote that used to be up in a Sunday School classroom which asked the reader, "When God feels far away, who is it that really moved and caused that feeling?" God is omnipresent and yet so often we behave, believe, and blunder through life as if He is not.
On page 116, Ann confesses (on behalf of all of us, I imagine), "I know how monstrously inhumane I can be. Raging at children for minor wrongdoings while I'm the one defiling the moment with sinful anger. Hoarding possessions while others die of starvation. Entertaining the mind with trivial pretties when I haven't bowed the head and the heart in a prayer longer than five minutes in a week. My tongue has had a razor edge and my eyes have rolled haughty and my neck has been stiff and graceless and I have lived the filth ugly, and idolater, a glutton, and a grace thief who hasn't had time for thanks."
This week, sisters, I challenge you to consider: What do you want? What do you hunger for? How have you been trying to satisfy that hunger? What are you doing with your time?
May we be ever thankful that "His mercies are new each morning." Lamentation 3:22-23
Blessings,
MM and MS