the continuing mysteries of life

I used to trust the general movement of my life toward good, maybe naively so. Maybe we refer to it as call or vocation or the right direction. Most of us chalk it up to a sense of "where we're supposed to be." But that trust was shaken many years ago. I've grown threw a lot of the pain, but not all of it. There are scars that will not fully fade. It took far more courage that I care to think about, and the tragic death of a friend, to return me to a willingness to discern what that path might actually be. The older we get, the more people we know, the more complex our lives become the harder the transitions and the less spontaneous our choices. Well, at least for most of us.

Am I "supposed" to be here, in this circumstance, in this situation, in this environment? Maybe, maybe not. But here I am and I'm doing my best to make the most of it. Maybe that's all any of us can ever hope for. But at the same time, that's not the whole of the story either. This seems like a transition, too, for surely the story is still in progress, the tale still unfolding, a life not complete. I'm not married, I don't have kids... not that those things are in and of themselves representative of a complete life in my eyes. But I find myself thinking more and more about them these days.

I spent a good 2 1/2 hours today rehashing some of my history and background, pains and joys and gifts, with a new friend today. The mystery of life, as we mutually agreed to, is in the almost instant sense of kindred connection, or familiarity and trust we felt with each other when we met several weeks ago. What is about one seemingly coincidental moment with another life that can draw the two of you together? I love his version, "I'm not always so nuts about running around and saying that God has made something happen simply because I say so." Each of us wanted to know the other more deeply, and both of us described it as "weird."

To me, liking someone almost instantly, wanting to know more about them, loving them, being attached to them, is obviously not new. That's part and parcel of who I am. Infinite heart space, with breadth and varieties of love for others that amazes even me sometimes. But the sense of familiarity, of having known him for much longer, especially when the experience was mutual was very strange. Not long after I met this guy, this friend, this kindred spirit... this pastor, I spent a night unable to sleep grieving lost friends, distance from current friends, inadequacies and errors and failures in relationships and all sorts of things. But it's more than that. It's also the ache of not being able to know them more, participate in their lives more, love them more. Because unfortunately, I can't be one without the other. I can't bear the gift of carrying the love of all these amazing people around with me and not bear the cross of grieving the lack of connection, whatever that might be.

I truly believe this is one of my gifts. I have to. Because to consider it any other way is to live a life chained to loneliness and being misunderstood and depression. Because most people don't get it. We're in a culture that is too disjointed and separate and individualistic, with set rules and structures and expectations to let in the joy of really loving people. Oh, we love a few. Family, close friends, spouses and children and whatnot. But for most people the list is really short. But it breaks my heart to think of all the people I want to know more and can't, whose lives I want to participate in more but can't, the dozens or hundreds of hugs I could give them. There are people I haven't seen in years, who can't remember or don't remember even who I am. And in them I find delight.

First, I can't be in more than one place at a time. Second, you can't participate in other people's lives without their permission. So I wonder about these things, this great mystery. And though we can never fathom God or what God feels and yadda yadda yadda. But if this is my spiritual gift, than how much more is it true for God. I know it's very "unlutheran" of me to speak of "letting God in" or "asking God in" or what have you, but for me its a reality and therefore an important faith question. I somewhat envision God following each and every individual and grieving the inability to participate in their lives because of not being "let in." Yes, I realize that God is supposedly omnipresent. Yes, I realize that God doesn't necessarily need "permission." But it's not permission so much as acceptance, maybe. I don't know. I need to study it more theologically, but maybe at its heart this is what people are striving to explain with all the gobbledygook about "accepting God."


..but, I digress. That whole train of thought kind of ran away with me there for a moment. I didn't necessarily get the connection between meeting him and the sleepless night and mild emotional funk that followed. But I knew I felt the urge to talk to him. And I realized that though this current graduate experience is SO much better than the one I had in seminary, that I've found some like-minded individuals in the sciences, that's not quite enough. I'm missing that faith piece, those friends who I can discuss not only the impacts of environmental policy and the ecology of wetlands, but that we can discuss it also in terms of Creation and faithful stewardship and the like. The initial research into future graduate programs focusing on religion and ethics is probably no coincidence either, which brings me right back to another process, another transition, another discernment of call and vocation and sense of where I belong.

So I had a long conversation with a pastor friend, and it was soul-warming to have someone objectively observe and remind me of the depth of faith I portray, of my understanding of the complexities of faith and love and people. Allies are few and far between, so I take heart and joy in the gift of them. One Andy, years ago, convinced me of the gift that is my love. And now another Andy journeys with me. I call that a good day.