For almost a year, we have been worshiping with the Encounter community at Arlington Heights United Methodist church—a refuge and sanctuary for our grieving hearts during this season of transition. Each week we hear the gospel—that we were created for community, that we are beloved, and that we belong; we sing, we receive communion, we pray, and we light candles…
Every week I light a candle for the people I love… for my children, for my ex-husband, for family members and friends going through difficult times, for my family as a whole, for the tragedies and heartaches of the world, for my faith congregations—both this one and the one I left…
This week, I received communion and walked over to our big, beautiful bowl full of sand with one small candle lit in the center, sitting on a table with many small candlesticks placed around the bowl, ready to be lit and placed in the sand. I was first the first one there, and as I stood in front of the bowl, picked up a candle stick, ready to touch the wick to the one solitary candle lit in the middle of the bowl, my mind went blank—not one name, face, thought, or story was present—my mind was completely empty, which for an enneagram 6, is damn near impossible. I could recall not one thought—and then as clear as day, I heard God whisper my own name—and I lit candle for myself and dug a place for it in the sand…
The sand that reminded me of the Godly Play sandbox where I used to tell the story of Abram and Sarai…
A story that reminds me…
“The desert is a dangerous place… No one goes to the desert unless they have to.”
…that it was in the desert where, “Abram came so close to God, and God came so close to Abram that he knew what God was saying…”
…that in the desert, when God asked them to uproot their whole life, “They wondered if the God they knew in this place would be in the next place.”
I placed my candle in the sand and was reminded that I am still journeying through the desert.
I stood there watching the flame of this fresh wick struggling to ignite… and there were a few moments I wondered if it would… I held my breath watching this small flame struggle to swallow enough oxygen to burn… and then the flame got brighter and brighter until it overtook the whole wick and in that same moment, I watched as a teenager reached his own candle stick over to mine, lit the wick, and placed his candle in the sand in front of him.
God’s wisdom is infinite—if only we can quiet the noise, even for a brief moment in time, to hear and see and recognize the whispers.
This season is for me… for healing.
to care for myself…
to pray for myself…
to feel all the feelings that arise and give them space to be…
to grieve…
to learn to trust myself again…
to lean into the truth that the God who has been with me through every desert I’ve journeyed before is with me in this place, will lead me to still waters and provide safe passage through the shadows of death and grief…
to tend to my light and be still, trusting that God is gonna be who God has always been.
What will you seek in this new season of life? What are you looking for?
Uprooted 