I write today wearied by my own recent posts. I have been writing about divorce, which many have thanked me for and resonated with. I’m glad I can lend a word of solidarity to the hurting. Even so, in the end, the pain of my divorce must not define me or my platform and I must find a way to recreate myself outside the complex emotional minefield that attends any kind of devastation. I am asking God to help me pray for those whom I have felt betrayed by. I am asking God to forgive me my failings as well.
We are all wounded by this world and the troubled players who populate our lives, ourselves included. I think Frederick Buechner said it best, “It slays us all, they call it life.”
I wrote at the beginning of this blog that I wanted “to make a vigil of my words and, in my search for simple beauty and holy significance in the surprising movements of God, to make my words a beautiful attendance.” This is my most holy prayer.
There are times we must write about pain. I believe the human soul needs a way to process it, hear it out, look at it, grab it by the throat and then, in time, be done with it. This is not to say I will not be writing again about divorce or other painful passages that have befallen me, or others, in this crooked world. But it is to say that pain and its wreckage are not the last word, nor the testimony.
I draw courage from Clare of Assisi who turned away from false glory and the deception of rank and cleaved to the better Spouse. She ran wildly to her new Husband and freely gave him her most sublime femininity, that treasured prize God made her to be as a woman. She basked in his touch and gentle caress, wore his crown well upon her head. She carried herself lightly in her new freedom and cast aside the weight of all things which would impede her purity and devotion. She wrote, “What a great and laudable exchange.”