Dear God,

Today I would particularly like to thank you that I am still alive. I have had the opportunity to be fully human lately–to love, to grieve, to keep turning pages in the story of my life. There are good things ahead… and sad things, too. But I’m moving forward, because that’s the best way to embrace life.

I’ve been given a glimpse of the next chapter of my life and an opportunity to take a risk. I’m a little frightened that the risk I’m taking will just be another dumb move I’ve made, another assumption I made that this risk will be worth it. But, I don’t know, I guess I see how this is from you, because usually I feel a little nervous about your will. It’s a little risky, a little crazy, a little less safe than the plan I had for myself. It must be yours!

Also–thank you for the understanding you are giving me every day. It connects my heart to this hurting world more and more so I can better pray, better serve. Life is so short. I see it more with every day I live. People get up in the morning expecting to have another day, another week, another month, another year. Then they die. Today… I have today to be me. I have today to be with my friends and family. I have today to serve. Right now is all that I have;  it’s the only thing I’m guaranteed.

I do have a small request: I just need a little reassurance. I’m putting my heart into this. Living every day to the fullest requires my heart’s utmost participation. I don’t want to regret it at the end of this. Help me be discerning, to guard my heart, but to also give it freely. I’ve been both a giver and a withholder.  I’m still learning how to do both of those at the same time.

Lastly, thank you for Friday which is coming soon. It’s the beginning of a beautiful getaway. I’m looking forward to sleep and fun and mostly a place to clear my head. At home I have to face all the voices filled with expectations for me. But there at the lakeside, I hear you. You whisper to me there. In the busyness of life here, I often miss your voice. I try to find quiet places at home, but nothing does it like this retreat.

I know this feels all too much like a long-distance relationship. Like I can’t hear from you daily, like I have to wait for your next letter, your next call. I don’t want it to be that way. I miss you. Let me feel your presence near me, not on your throne oh so far away. Someday I’ll get to really be with you–I look forward to that. But for now, please keep me wanting. Please keep romancing me.

Talk to you again soon,

Love,

Rachel

It was a day that moved in slow motion.

The breeze was still, barely touching the heavy heat. Not even the birds stirred in the trees, sending a peaceful quiet that settled in around us. It was the perfect day to sleep in the hammock under the shade of the tulip tree, but no one did. I swatted at the gnats buzzing around my face, wishing it was breezier to keep the microscopic pests at home.

I wished that the breeze was enough reason for me to stay home, too.

My legs stuck to the bench in the sticky humidity. Pulling myself from the seat like a band-aid, I rose ever so gently to step out into the sunlight. I walked alone until I was out of sight, partly to see if anyone would follow me but mostly to escape their hovering presence. No one had spoken a word to me since that morning.

That morning, they pulled me out of bed at 11:30 where I had been lying since 8:00 yesterday. I don’t remember moving. My back was stiff like I hadn’t moved in days. They prodded and baby-talked me until I shrugged and let them clean me up.

It was strange that I felt no shame as they peeled the sweat-soaked clothes off of me and turned on the shower. I don’t even remember the shower. I just remember getting out and feeling clean… not that feeling clean mattered right then. I felt no shame as they dressed me, brushed my hair, put on my deodorant. I felt nothing as they placed dish after dish in front of me and waited, stared at me, hoped I would eat.

Maybe toast doesn’t sound good right now? How about watermelon? Some apple slices? What about a candy bar? A peanut butter sandwich?

I got up from the table without touching a thing and sat outside on the porch. Eventually they followed me out and sat there with me. No one spoke a word. My mother stared at me, studied me. As if her staring could somehow ease the pain inside. As if she could absorb some of it and relieve me. I walked around the house and sat down in a corner where they couldn’t see me from the windows.

Life was going on. All around me life continued. A tiny ant crawled over my bare foot. The corn was getting tall in the field. A blue jay landed on the fence post and stared at me through a wide eye. And the gnats were back. I sat there for what seemed like a year, letting the world move around me, letting myself become a stump, a tree, another part of the yard. Nothing stopped for me.

I walked back around to the porch, but everyone had gone inside to hide from the humidity. The blue pool water rippled ever so slightly in the breeze. It was quiet there. And cool. I stepped down into a warm water that washed the dirt and grass from my feet. Sweat was running down my scalp through my hair, so I got in even deeper until the bottom of my shorts was wet.

Were they still watching me? I couldn’t see anyone peering through the windows, so I went in even farther until the water was up to my waist. Water seems to wash away more than dirt for me, but today it only brought back memories. I sunk down until it splashed up on my neck. I felt alone. So alone that no one would or could ever come for me. Buried so far inside myself, no one could pull me out. No one can love me anymore.

I floated on my back in the water, holding my breath as I listened to the blood rushing in my ears under the water. The sky was cloudless and open and… endless.

When my lungs burned for more air, I exhaled. The water covered my face as I sunk into the water and the sky became a ripply blue so far away. My lungs have never hurt so badly. I ached for air, but my limbs did not fight. My arms floated above me as I sunk to the bottom. I didn’t want to see the blue sky. Blue sky is for those alive. I closed my eyes and waited.

When my body started twitching, starving for air, I got ready to gulp the pool water down into my burning lungs. I wouldn’t see the worthless blue sky again.

As soon as I opened my mouth, someone took my arm and yanked me to the surface. My head hit the concrete hard. I vomited water. I remember groaning as I opened my eyes to a blurry but familiar face.

“What were you thinking?” Her eyes were bright red and filled with tears. “I’m not losing you both. He loved you and he wanted you to live. My son wanted you to live.”

She willed me to live. And I did.