Dear friend,
Selah. For you. For me. For all
of us whom need a pause in our lives. To stop what we are doing and selah – for however long that
it takes. It doesn't mean that we reject what life brings but rather this Hebrew word is our instruction to "pause and exalt the Lord."
Even
when it’s painful.
Even
when you want to sleep all day.
Even
when you see someone else’s joy and just wanna squelch it.
Selah.
I
say this for me as much for you.
As
I overlook the Pacific Ocean’s horizon from the picture window somehow I
capture a little bit of the moist sea in my eyes and it falls onto my
cheek. I think about your “could
haves” and “should haves” and know it’s not fair. The coastline’s waves begin to pick up and tears rush down
my face. Your loss is my loss –
our loss. The world is without a
heartbeat.
Selah.
I
don’t pretend to know what you have gone through. So instead I pray.
Simply pray. No words. Nothing is worse than pat consolations
and every nice holy answer to your most ambiguous questions. I simply repeat your name over and over
and over and over.
You
see, the two of us are so very different on the outside. Color of wheat bread belongs to
me. You grew up in the land The
Beach Boys sung about while I resided in the outskirts of Sleepless In Seattle
– and to this day want to call up a radio station in my middle of the night and
meet the man of my dreams at the top of the Empire State Building. Alas, I wake up in the mornings and hug
a tree before sipping my organic fair-trade coffee and munch on filberts in
the fertile wine country.
[Fertile. The ironic
resemblance. Not every year is a
fruitful season, even for the fields of nature.] Yet, it’s in this place that we share our commonalities of
our college years – those challenges and funny moments, how could they not bond
us for life? Sure, I might’ve (and
still am) impatient so much so that an early winter morning for me I turned the
thermostat ALL the way up to feel warm faster…then left for student teaching
while you slept. Or when I used
olive oil for a cake ‘cause I don’t bake.
Or used your toothbrush to clean the toilet ‘cause it was the first thing
I found [wait, I didn’t do that.
REALLY! That’s a joke.] And
you. Well…you’ve got your quirks
too.
This
friendship. It’s more than
survived our fights, tears and world travels apart. We’ve thrived during rough times and we’ll continue to. This I know is true.
Nineteen
days ago we texted our sorrows.
How different and yet the same.
I was crying about my own stress while you mourned yours. This longing we both have – this desire
for something – will never go away.
Yet,
in our longings – at whatever season we are in – may we both grow through our pain,
challenges, weaknesses, and losses.
I
want to love more, not less just because what I’ve wanted for my future has once
again fallen toward the ground like an eagle’s feather floats out to sea not in
flight towards my desired destination.
I
want to love more, not less when the candle that I lit is blown out by the
turbulence of life. In remembrance
I’ll light that wick again and again to acknowledge my weakness and God’s
strength.
Selah. For you. For me. For all of us whom need a pause in our lives. To stop what we are doing and selah – for however long that it takes.
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