Chaos

Chaos.  My fear and my life.

The inner turmoil of stuff… things… scattered, trampled, and hurled haphazardly.  Pressing urgently, shouting incessantly.  The constant lingering, sometimes bellowing, thoughts which invade and pilfer my tranquility and personal peace. 

And as often in my life – the external – reflects the internal.  Perhaps that’s why so much emphasis and energy and thought and exercise is focused here….on the periphery. In the areas of life which others experience, others see.  “If I could only structure, clean, paint, weed, decorate, dress, design (fill in the blank)…. in such a way….” The focus so unrequitedly directed toward the blemish.  

I long deeply, deliberately, and sincerely to experience beauty.  To hold it, like one nestles a soft baby chick. Giving it boundary and yet not pressing too firm. To caress beauty’s refreshing peace in my soul.  That is my longing, my ache.

But my external world is muddled.

Farmer Husband’s dress shirts piled high waiting to be pressed.  Dishes strewn in the sink, crusty with dried food debris.  Electronic tails weaving in and out and under and over everything.  Dust - bunny, webbed, and amassed on horizontal planes.  Cardboard boxes -half filled, file piles teetering in height, plastic food containers and lids stacked precariously on counter tops.  Carpet stains freckling the floor.  Window panes reflecting the haze of a winter’s cloudy envelope. Iron deposits and streaks on tub’s bottom.  Faucet rhythmically dripping….

“One thing have I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in His temple.” (Psalm 27:4 ESV)

We were created with the longing for beauty. His beauty.

It’s no wonder that a clean, organized, lovely home enables inner reflection.  The visual overload does not distract. I completely understand the serenity I feel when the farm is weeded; the flowers are blooming; the summer sweet corn aroma announces its readiness.  When I drive by the ordered grape vines winding their tendrils around wired beams, when I look long down the perfectly straight rows of beans heavy with fruit, when I observe the contrasting colors of variegated leaves and just-opening flower buds against a backdrop of freshly tilled and moist dark sweet smelling soil – these reflect, although dimly, “the beauty of the Lord.”

When I see the crescent of a moon beaming brightly, reflecting and ricocheting its light from the whitest of snows piled high.  When Rigel, Betelgeuse, and Bellatrix twinkle luminously around Orion’s belt in the dark sky overhead. When seedlings pop through their blanket of earth, stretching their inner cells to build.  When puffy white smoke twirls up the sky from the wood burning furnace chimney, enveloped in a snow blanket.  These reflect, although dimly, “the beauty of the Lord.”

 

 “One thing have I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after …”  One thing that I desire, that I seek, that I pursue - the One. That’s what the psalmist wrote. One thing.  

Noteworthy that the “one thing” was associated with three verbs. 

“Dwell….. gaze…..inquire….”   

The act of pursuing the Lord involves residing, beholding, and asking.  Hmmm.  This does not sound like the frenetic pace of doing, doing, doing.  The “one thing” requires reflection – meditation. Slow and deliberate. Intentionally and single-mindedly focused on Him.  

Reordering the inner chaos in the act of embracing the beauty of the Lord.  That is beauty.

Selah.  (Pause, and think of that).

Today’s Journey Joys: Hazelnut coffee with cream steaming hot, warming temperatures melting winter’s snow, meowing Frosty the cat incessantly demanding his breakfast, Kirby vacuum cleaner sweeping up debris, dishwashers chugging along, ornamental grass and lettuce starts peeking out through the soil under grow lights, slowing and thankful heart.

Findings

My head is placed between two soft cushions surrounded by a plastic firm head mold with this hockey mask-looking contraption placed over it.  I’m looking through white triangles.  The assistant then adds a triangular mirror to garnish the whole look.  They hand me two yellow foamy ear protectors and I squeeze them tightly into my ear canals. And abruptly, the quiet buzz of the electric sliding table whisks my brain under the giant, soon-to-be-whirling, magnets for my MRI. The technologists leave the room.

Interesting… the thoughts one has getting these sorts of tests.  I go from being amazed by the technology to focusing on the deafening noise of the machine gun-like sounds, wondering what’s going on there and how it all works to give pictures of the inside of my skull. I’ve never been claustrophobic and don’t mind these tunnel shaped tests.  In fact, sometimes I almost fall asleep.  That may be more reflective of how tired I am these days though.

I know lying there, in my nothingness, that the results of these test might be very troubling – life changing.  Life shortening.  In a few short hours my kind oncologist will show me the results – we will know whether there is any evidence of metastatic disease.  Cancer recurrence. And I feel my head getting warmer; my face flushing.  My breathing becoming rhythmic and slow. I’m actually getting sleepy despite all this noise.

And after 30 minutes or so it’s all done.  Well, except for the funny look on the faces of the technicians.  “Ah, you look pretty red.” And she pulls up my hair from around my ears and says, “Your ears are bright red as well… and warm.”  “Are you feeling OK?” she asks looking concerned.  “Oh yeah, I’m fine,” I respond cheerily.  “Although my face does feel a little warm.”  She leaves the room and summons  the radiologist.

A few minutes later this young… Did I mention young? ( How did I get to the age where professionals no longer are my age but my children’s?)  Anyway, this young doctor takes a look at me and says, “Are you OK?”  “And of course I simply smile my big toothy grin, “Yes, I’m just fine.  Just a little warm and slightly itchy.”  Needless to say, I had the privilege of hanging out there longer than expected.

After a wonderful strawberry, tangerine and cranberry salad at the local Freshens restaurant, I found myself up on the 10th floor of the Gonda building with torrents of snow showers tumbling down around the city as far as the eye could see.  Beautiful.  Spectacular. Breath-taking.  I’m an hour and a half away from getting my results.  Just moments before, I witnessed a patient about my age leaving the oncology floor.  Her face blotchy and red with tears dripping. Our eyes met only briefly.  Her pain and sorrow evident as she quickly looked away. Her eyes in disbelief and wonder.  I could only imagine her news. I longed to embrace her and comfort her.

My own fear, in the back of my mind of course, was that my personal journey would turn back to brambles, thorns, and loneliness once again.  And that was a hard, very hard place to be.

But I am at peace as I wait for the test results. Resting on the experience of God's closeness and peace not only through the brambles, but in them.  Embracing the story He has written for me -whatever and wherever He leads me.

 “No evidence of metastatic disease.”  That’s what she said with a grin on her face.  And I grinned backed. 

Today’s Journey Joys: safe travels through a winter wonderland in Minnesota, homemade comfy lentil soup, quiet solitude, roosters crowing, seedlings emerging, child hugs, prayers graciously granted, fragrant essential oils, sun peeking out from behind winter clouds.