When I was a little girl, lost and alone, un-moored, misguided, I wanted nothing more than to be saved. I needed my savior visible, I didn’t believe in Love, so there was no faith to be drawn from that well. Had I met Jesus at the well, and he told me he loved me, I may have wanted to believe him. I might have tried that on to see if it felt right to me, but I’m guessing I would have needed serious proof. A boatload of affirmation. A miracle.
I waited for someone to see I needed saving, like the crew of the Titanic, signalling for help, running out of time, frantic, helpless, unable to fix their grave mistake. I thought I was unworthy of being rescued. My ship took in so much water, it was impossible to repair and so I left it. I didn’t know what help would look like. If offered, I couldn’t accept it. Even if help had long last arrived, I couldn’t take it in.
My vessel was badly damaged. Sinking, quietly, slowly and then quite quickly, when I bailed. I felt wrong and bad and punished for a crime I couldn’t remember committing. Handed to me at birth, I carried the shame like syphilis, quiet and deadly sin of bad decisions (am reading about syphilis. Even now, no one will admit it).
At some point, friends, you must command your own vessel. The ship which you’re waiting for isn’t coming, will not save you, can’t possibly arrive in time. Commit your life to Love. Your faith will save you, and the Light you send out will show others where to find you, and how to find themselves. Together, what was lost is now found, and is yours, forever.
LBM 3/31/2020 (be safe and strong and well, during this dark time).