As I was driving to the hospital, chasing an earthy, insistent sunrise, my conversation with God went like this:
“God, I need you to be with me today. And not as a trickster, today. Today I need to sense you in gentleness. You’ve been pushing me, I know. It seems you are preparing me for something, and if you are, I want you to keep doing that. But, God, it’s so fast. You’re pushing me so hard. I need gentleness today.”
“The thing is, I don’t think you understand how close I am to my breaking point.”
“What’s wrong with breaking?”
Silence… and a tiny sliver of peace creeps in.
“Humanity is being broken open right now. My people, to be my faithful ones, are going to have to allow themselves to be broken open and trust in my healing.”
I’m not sure I can quite rest in this, but I can at least imagine, now, a way through.
This morning, I am aware of the “living in the twilight” moments, having that Weepies song running through my head. We all live in twilight, where things are ending and new things are beginning, where sight is not clear and shadows are long. Twilight can be peaceful, though, too, as well as mysterious. So today, I will hold the twilight stillness in my life and notice the twilight moments in others’ lives – to honor and hold those times – and to see what rest and peace might grow from or in the midst of those twilight times.