Mist and Wandering

“The age of Chivalry was the age of Loyalty; and youth ought to be especially the age of Chivalry and of Loyalty in each life. But perhaps this is not a loyal age. Our tendency is to believe that to think for ourselves and to serve ourselves in the way of advancement or pleasure is our chief business in life. We think that the world was made for us, and not we for the world, and that we are called upon to rule and not to serve. But such thoughts come to us only in our worst moods. Loyalty, whose note is service, asserts itself. We know that we are not our own, and that according to the Loyalty within us do we fulfil ourselves” ~ Charlotte Mason, Ourselves

I’ve been incredibly foolish. I’ve been acting in ways that do not line up with loyalties I know and respect. I’ve spent hours and days and weeks and months behaving in ways that are almost utterly contrary to what I believe, and yet, I could find no fault with my wounded heart, a heart so eager for distraction, for solace that it moved like the soul of a comatose patient lingering in the halls.

I’ve met and hung out with so many people, people who do not hold to any standard of living that I admire, people who are not really awake, people who speak and act and enjoy things that are not true, or beautiful, or good. I have been seeing the misty world. There is no sacrificial love in it without scripture, absolutely no repentance, but there are some loyalties. The souls of people waiting to die or longing to be woken up. Everyone alive is tied down but the ties of those recovering from surgery are nebulous. We need the touch of the Living to bring us back.

My heart has been wandering, waiting for a touch while my body goes through the movements of digestion, exhalation, evacuation. I’m still getting things done, my children are still being fed. The bills are being paid, but my heart is so far away from this life.

It’s funny the morals people choose to stay loyal to. I’ve been hanging out with people who are lost. It’s sad, to watch as cheaters admonish those who party or as the drunkards judge the unkind, or to see the rudest most vile women mock stupidity. We all, walkers in the mist, move through one another vaguely. No one discusses their heart and if they do we sidle away; we have no interest in touching the blood and meat and bones of reality. We have no interest in being found, not right now.

I have watched myself, floating above my own body it seems, having torpid banal conversations, one after the other, with people who share not one ounce of my beliefs. I have felt the idea of a kiss in this strange netherworld and the idea of a welcome: abandoned by some, abandoning others for no reason save inconvenience or boredom.

I have moved through these days, lost like a ship with no rudder and fewer cares, destined to bump against the tide of other souls, rarely feeling. I have been past sadness. I have been apathetic, because, well… because this is what happens in the Story of us all I suppose.. when we walk through the wastelands and must make our decision about whether or not to return.

I know that I must. I know that I will reacquaint myself with the newness of a life worth living but I keep anticipating that pain of recovery and it is oh so painful.. whereas in the vale of shadows there is only numbness. But of course, I’m just being poetic, don’t pay too much attention to me now or I will vanish away from fear of life.

There’s a question that has been pulling me back though, like a solid rope reeling me in whispering “Wake up, wake up oh my beloved and begin again.”

I am gently surprised at the tenderness of that reproach. My God is the Bridegroom. I have been a distant ungrateful wife wandering through dreams without pausing. A prodigal child no longer.. I know who I am and where I belong and where I will live out my days but it’s been a long, long time for me to admit it. That truth seemed unreal. To be called is a great honor yet I have treated it like a burden unbearable.

Writing seems to help.

That question the Holy Spirit breathes in me sounds a bit like this, “Who do you want to be?” More specifically, I am already soooo many things, the question is “Are you ready to act according with who I have made you to be?”

And so we go full circle.

Is God who He says He is? Will He do what He says He will do? Am I who He says I am? Will I do what He has made me to do?

Loyalty. I am the beloved of a God who has called me to be loyal to Him: in thought, in word, in deed. Thankfully, He holds me close even when I am helpless.

Godly ties are just habits made through prayer. “Lord, tie me to this life you have given me. Root me and ground me to Your wisdom. My real-ness is only found in truth. Give me your truth and sustain me. Help me to say no to things that You despise while saying yes to the activities that honor You.”

But I wander still. And wonder.

I suppose it will take one moment added to one moment at a time.

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