15 April 2007

Love in a Hurricane

The gale-force winds blow.
Your arms and legs are wrapped around a tree.
Desperation.
Clinging.
Security.
The will to live.
Praying for salvation.
Praying you can ride out the storm.
And just make it to the end so you can continue to occupy the same location on the planet.


Sometimes you have to take a look at the tree you're hanging onto as though your life depended on it.


Can this tree you're hanging onto even withstand the force of the wind?
Is life beneath this tree worth clinging to? So desperately?
Perhaps this gale is romance.
Perhaps it's time to let go of the tree and let the wind carry you where it will.
From the wilderness
To the Land of Milk and Honey.

Because,
"The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit."
John 3:8


Terminate My Resume 1 and 2, Erin, SoulPerSuit

8 Comments:

Blogger Christianne said...

Thank you, my dear friend. I think we are soulmates. As soon as I saw that list, I knew it for sure.

What's amazing to me in this image is how much MORE WORLD is out there besides that tree. It's so obvious in this poem that there's more to this big world than our puny knowledge of one tree . . . so why not take a leap on down and see what we see?

BECAUSE IT'S FREAKING SCARY, THAT'S WHY!! :)

It makes me sad that this small girl (it's you, it's me, it's whoever else wants to ante up and admit it's them, too) has to depend so hard on herself to keep herself on that tree she thinks is lifeblood. She thinks it's all up to her. I know I sure do most of the time, too. My whole world's being rocked open at the thought that maybe it, in fact, is not.

7:34 PM  
Blogger Erin said...

I hadn't thought about this when I wrote it, but the tree image...
The tree...

I'm hanging on to a tree. Trusting in it, hoping it might preserve me in the hurricane.

The Hurricane blows me away. At will. Where it will. Love in a Hurricane is whisking me away to an entirely different tree.

THE Tree.

The Tree to which my resume was nailed and terminated. The Tree to which I'm grafted in order to bear much fruit. The Tree that grows by streams of living water, whose leaf does not wither, who bears its fruit in season. The Tree that grows in the Land of Milk and Honey. The Tree of Life.


Clinging to our tree is like coming to the very end of ourselves. We have nothing left to stand on, to hold to, to secure our path. We fear the unknown force of the hurricane, but guess what? The Hurricane is always, always, always blowing us to The Tree.

(Don't mind me, just talking to myself.)

8:12 PM  
Blogger rhon said...

This reminds me of my first indoor rock climbing experience a couple of weeks ago.

The wall is 30 feet high and basically 90 degrees to the ground - completely vertical. You are tethered to a rope that goes through a pulley in the ceiling and then down to a partner on the ground. Their responsibility is to catch you if you fall and then lower you to the ground. You are traversing the wall, pulling and pushing, with nothing but your fingers and toes.

On my first climb, I had reached about 20 feet. My arms started shaking from the strain. I had to find the next hand hold. All the ones within my grip allowed for only a slim grip which meant my fingers had to do a lot more work to hang on. I had yet learned to use the better strength in my legs to push up. But this also required me to let go with my hands as I move.

At this point I suddenly became aware that I didn't know what it felt like to be caught by the rope. How secure was it? Would I catch my partner off guard? The feeling was overwhelming and I couldn't concentrate on climbing anymore. I HAD to know what it felt like to fall. So I did.

All was well. And the second time I went up the wall, falling was no longer an issue. Only the strength of my arms and legs. In fact, I would even lean back, letting my partner dangle me in the air, as I rested my arms.

I never made it up the 30 feet but it wasn't because I was afraid. Not any more.

3:43 PM  
Blogger Christianne said...

Rhon, your story really moved me, especially the part about HAVING to learn what falling felt like. I don't think I've ever had a thought like that in my life -- my thoughts are always on keeping from falling! I would never want to know what it felt like in order to just get over the fear. But now you've given me a new perspective, one that inspires me with hopefulness and new life-ishness. Thank you.

5:02 PM  
Blogger rhon said...

Christianne -

I'm so glad you enjoyed it. I think I had some divine help writing it because the results were really nice. Reminds me of Erin's writings.

And maybe a better way of putting it might be to know what it feels like to get caught.

3:41 PM  
Blogger L.L. Barkat said...

Most fitting, for a woman who has been sitting out under a tree in earnest. (That being me.)

3:33 PM  
Blogger L.L. Barkat said...

Oh, and I really love your poem. I did not realize you were a woman of poetry. But here it is, in its raw beauty.

3:34 PM  
Blogger Christianne said...

Rhon, you're right: it IS about learning what it is to be caught. Because I'm learning something about myself right now: I'm really afraid of letting go because I don't actually believe God will catch me (at least, most of the time I don't; I have a few glimmers of trust on a few far and in-between days). I think He's cultivating a newer sense of this kind of trust in me lately, though, and I have to say I'm truly looking forward to learning to live from that new place.

9:00 PM  

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