I spent the morning at a Spiritual Life committee retreat for my church, First Congregational Church. It was held up in northern Colorado Springs, lots of wide open space, a few houses dotting the landscape. Lots of air up there. And lots of room to stretch.
To open the meeting, a story was told. The storyteller told the biblical story of the Exodus in a different way, using props, her body, her hands. I was mesmerized. She did it with such simplicity. I do not know much about the Bible, especially how things fit together, or the time line of things. But this time, Exodus penetrated me. She laid out a brown piece of felt and said, "This is the desert. The desert is a dangerous and scary place. There is no food and no water. People can die there in the desert." Then, she moved her hands over the desert, and as it changed shape, she said, "This is the wind, when there is wind blowing in the desert, the sand can change shapes. And people may get lost." She then brought out people and went on explaining the story of Exodus. People leaving where they were, crossing this desert, getting to where they are going, only to be persecuted. Then, a strong and reluctant leader (someone in the group shared this bit of information and I love that Moses was reluctant), Moses, asks to be set free. Then, the story teller raised her arm and held out her hand, as she acted as Pharoah, and said, NO. And as the story goes, God sends plagues, kills children and finally the people are set free, only to cross the desert again, with the army at their backs. Then comes the parting of the waters, the people make it through with Moses in the lead, and they are free. They make it to the Promised Land. And Miriam in the center of the crowd, dances. Of course, she does. I love Miriam.
I love the Chuck Barry song,
Promised Land. The Grateful Dead did a cover of that song. I danced on the hot pavement at a show in Oregon to this song, with the Dead and Chuck Barry singing it. I can just hear it now..."Left my home in Norfolk, Virginia, California on my mind..." I could have lifted off into the heavens.
Someone in the group this morning said, she is waiting. Waiting for the Promised Land. It was then that my heart grew wings and flew. Out of my mouth came my truth.
I am in the Promised Land. Right now, just being alive. I finally awakened recently to the fact that whether I am feeling shame, pain, joy, ecstasy, boredom, loneliness, rejection. Whatever it is that I am feeling, I AM HERE TO FEEL IT. That is my promised land. That I can smell pumpkin bread baking, I can be annoyed with my husband and I can hold his hand before I fall asleep, that I can smell my children's freshly washed hair, that I can have a friend who finishes my sentences. I am alive and I am here for it all. I am no longer waiting around for the good stuff, because IT ALL IS. Right now. God's love in my body = Promised Land.
As we approach the Thanksgiving holiday, I thought this writing was timely. Because I am grateful. My mom is not in my life right now, but I am grateful for her. And I am grateful that I am alive to feel my grief, to feel my missing her. I am grateful that my sister lives around the block and I can sit at her table and share a meal with her. I am grateful for my brother, who I trust deeply, who I can tantrum with, if I want to. I am grateful for the chickens in my backyard and the falling leaves. I am grateful for my body, healing after much trauma. For my community, my people. I see God in each and everyone one of them and beyond. I am grateful for my teachers, for their eyes filled with Love, patience and faith. Most of all, I am deeply grateful for the Love of God. I say that with reckless abandon. I am down on my knees. I love it all. There is no more waiting for me. Whether I am afraid, or filled to overflowing...This is it, the Promised Land, right here and now.
