Purpose.

Have you ever woken up one morning to discover that--inexplicably and overnight--you have somehow lost all clarity on what in the world your purpose is?

Well, if you have, welcome to my world.  Particularly, welcome to my world this past Sunday.  Crazy.in.my.head.

Luckily for everyone around me, I have matured to the point of realizing: When one is crazy in one's head, turn to Jesus, and wait for Him to uncrazy you.

He does, every time.  And, chances are very good that He will use a sudden and inexplicable circumstance that says: Girl, pay attention.

And then, if you're me, you'll feel very convinced you need to blog about it.

[You were, after all, searching for purpose.  What--I ask you--is more purposeful than a blog?!]

Anyway:

Here I am, setting out on a very purposeful walk on that said Sunday.  Look at the swagger, the joy, the intention behind these steps.  We knew where we were going, and boy, were we excited!

We followed our guide down the path that he'd known for years, when--inexplicably!--we found ourselves...

...in the middle of a massive wilderness.

I--in particular--found myself in a particular kind of wilderness, because the smallest and most vulnerable of our group had attached herself to me as the others plowed on ahead, and did not appear to be in the category of 'gee, I don't mind walking through weeds nearly higher than my head' on this particular afternoon. 

So, imagine my situation.  Here I am, feeling a bit crazy as it is, stuck in a field that someone has led me into with no cooperation on my part, dutifully plowing through sword-like greenery in the wake of a child who is terrified of prickles, and systematically left behind by everyone else.

I ask you. 

But, remember?  I am so mature.  And, remember: I am waiting for the moment of uncrazy!  And so, I kept my mouth shut.  I listened.  I reveled in the peculiarity of my situation, and willed myself to be grateful for it.

Because, speaking of maturity:  What better way to receive uncrazy than 

in the middle of a field that is mimicking how my entire being is feeling on this particular day!?  

[Breathe.  Deeply.]

Anyway, I'm sure you've figured out what's coming by now, 

and you are right:

Since Jesus is faithful even in the middle of my craziest moments, I discovered all kinds of inexplicable things that made me feel Purposeful, in the deepest parts of my soul, as I made my way through that horizon of never-ending and quite prickly foliage, and here are just a few:

A) It takes great skill to walk through a wilderness.

B) There is opportunity for deep comradeship in the overcoming of the challenges.

And,

C) there are surprises to run into along the way.

They might be a tad ugly, but they are awesome in their ugliness.  And, their very inexplicability causes something inside of you to stir, to remember there is more to the world than just you,  and that you should keep your eyes open.

And so, as I listened to the gentle [and slightly amused?] Voice whispering in the deepest places of my heart, I discovered that though my particular purpose was still pretty unclear, it didn't really matter, because my Purpose had inexplicably been restored.  

I said 'Alright God, I hear you.'

[I said: 'I think You enjoyed that little object lesson,
just a bit too much.']

And then, I stopped being crazy, and decided to just be.
In whatever wilderness I happened to find myself.

Making the most of it.

 Milkshake anyone?

It's back, and I'm lovin' it.

I realize I might have laid the 'oh I'm grieving the end of summer' on pretty thick, so let me take a moment just to say:

I love fall too.

Fall, you see, is a return to routine. And, though my 'adaptability' gene sometimes causes me to freak out when planning a schedule, my equally present 'nerd' gene gets weirdly excited about it:

Welcome to my week.

Because in routine, you know what to expect. You feel a bit taken care of, because you don't have to worry about what happens when. And you recognize the beauty of your extremely full but spontaneous summer season even more fully, when you're put safely into the arms of stark contrast.

Plus, you discover that even though fall is less spontaneous, it's still full of things to open your lungs and breathe in.

Things like early morning walks,

and recognizing that your valley is one of pristine grace.

Things like feeling a part of an on-going story, a reality you are reminded of one morning when, completely unexpectedly, you are joined on your journey by a friend:

Riding on my sleeve, this guy took in my view, 

all the way from Orchard Park to Fairmount.

[He even tolerated my excessive picture taking.]

Even the return of Dissertation Days is a reminder of beauty, 

because I get to work in the comfort of my house [which I love], 

where the beverages are plentiful [and, free. Sort of.]

I spend the day walking around my house, my head buzzing with ideas, thanking God [for He is abundant in His acknowledgement of who He has created me to be].  

And then, this particular Fall is characterized by a new season with a new housemate,

and all the treasure that comes with learning how to live life, together.

Whether it be over dinner [and goat cheese!]

or while welcoming random guests [Hello?],

beauty is everywhere, because Fall is back.

And indeed--I am loving it.

Waiting for Sun, Waiting to See

When we emerged out into the world on Sunday morning,

all was dark and shadowy.

The moon was glowing,

in competition with the lanterns.

And it caused me to think:

Sometimes, all we see is shadow.

As routine as nighttime, we find ourselves in moments we don't understand, in situations we can't clearly see.

In the midst of it, we do the best we can; we seek out whatever light we can find, we remember the Truth we've known in moments of clarity.  We allow it to illuminate the darkness as much as it can, but we're blinded to what lies outside the circle of its glow. It lights our way, enough for us to function, enough for us to keep on walking.

And there is beauty here, but it is difficult.  It's the kind of beauty that requires us to be aware, to make sure we don't step in anything we'd have to clean up later.  It's the kind of beauty that whispers deeply, to our deepest need.  It's the kind of beauty that asks us to open our eyes a little wider and to look a little closer, in order to take it in.  

Slowly, we see a glow on the horizon. 

And we walk toward it, because it beckons us.  

Because it reminds us of possibility, 

because it sings a song of hope.

And we hear it, gently, in our heart of hearts: 

Be still, and listen, and wait.

We watch our questions come more fully to light,

[look closely--see the question mark in the clouds?]

We watch them gravitate,

watch them begin to dispel,

 as gradually [oh so gradually] the sun rises into fullness, in its rhythm that cannot be interrupted, because its design is to come, with power.

And as we watch the glory unfold, it says: Stand up.

And we do, because our design says: Respond.

We walk into it, because it has captivated us, because the questions and the shadows that remain don't matter in comparison.  Because it has brought healing, in its wings.

And what was once in darkness, 

relying on the moon,

transforms,

so that what was there all along is seen.

Whole, New, and pulsing with Life.

So, back to Sunday morning, as I sat on this bench, 

as I watched these things unfold, 

and as I sat with God in the unfolding, 

I recognized them,  because I'd seen God do them; 

in my heart, in my life.  

But for you who revere my Name, the Sun of Righteousness will rise with healing in his wings.  And you will go out and leap like calves released from the stall. [Malachi 4:2]

And if it hadn't've been so early, I'd've leapt right down that pier.

Let's Finish the Season with Wine, not Whining.

You know how I feel about the end of summer.

But maybe by now you also know: I'm determined to make the most of all things, even ones that cause me deep inner pain.
[Oh, summer.]

So, in order to celebrate it out with a bang,

these ladies and I climbed in Hannah's car,
and went on a little trip.

Our drive deposited us here, in Hammondsport,
a quaint little town offering food, antiques

 [what is it with me and antiques lately?!],
and adorable little foreign men exuding joy with carside 'parfaits'

 [by which, we're pretty sure he meant 'frappe'].  Sara even got a hug, in warm and happy welcome.

Though it was difficult to leave,

we had other things to see.

At our winery lunch destination,

we found ourselves in view of this view,

and paused for a moment,

to take it all in,

with joy.

 Then it was time for lunch,

 and our first tasting of the weekend.

We followed it with two more wineries;

Dr. Frank's
[where we might have had a little more scenic picture taking fun?]

and then,

Heron Hill, voted one of the world's best tasting rooms,

according--at least--to Ed, our rather enthusiastic server.

When we had had our fill, we wove our way over to Watkins Glen, home of our adorable motel, a street of little shops,

 and the Roosterfish Brewery,

where my lovely siblings met us for dinner,
in a perfect end to our perfect day.

The next morning found us up,

early, but not quite bright.

Our goal? To see the sun rise,

 over this harbor, a few blocks from our room.

We waited patiently,

enamored with the colors of the sky,

 the winging of the birds,

 the soaring of the clouds.

 And then,

the moment we began to realize,

the waiting was worth it.
[There will be more on this, you can be sure.]

The rest of our day involved coffee,

[we needed coffee...] and then,

 Watkin's Glen State Park

 [Waterfalls included].

 We climbed the stairs,

 in order to see all the place had to offer.

 Quiet,

 and not so much,

 
 we took our time,

 we had a little fun,

we enjoyed just being in it together.

Then there was lunch at Stonecat Cafe, replete with outdoor jazz,

and many delicious options.

We closed it out with two more wineries,

and then made one last stop,

for ice cream cones [the size of my head!],at the local

 bee-ary-slash-

piano bar.  [???]

Then it was time to head homeward,

with gratitude and joy in our hearts

for a wine-y end to a summer full of fun.