Irrational August

This is the irrational season
When love blooms bright and wild.
—Madeleine L'Engle

It is no secret that I despise the month of August. The heat, the weight of work, the physical and emotional exhaustion, it all feels crushing... But this August has been especially hard to bear. In the span of a week, two of my oldest Summit connections were dealt death blows in their families: one lost their 17-year-old daughter, the other his 88-year-old wife just 12 days before their 66th wedding anniversary.

Now in the same span of time, I will attend two funeral services... One for a vibrant girl who was just about to begin adulthood, the other for a gentle soul full of humour and grace—both loved Jesus, and both loved people. It is no easier to go to one service or the other. Death is the great thief, thrusting itself into our safe worlds and snatching away those we love; snatching our security from under us. 

Death happens to other people. . .until it doesn't. 

No man is an island,

Entire of itself.

Each is a piece of the continent,

A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,

Europe is the less.

As well as if a promontory were.

As well as if a manor of thine own

Or of thine friend's were.

Each man's death diminishes me,

For I am involved in mankind.

Therefore, send not to know

For whom the bell tolls,

It tolls for thee.

—John Donne

As I pulled on my swishy black dress today, I reached for the right necklace to wear with it—the necklace with winter-bare branches etched in silver, my 'Aaron necklace'. It seemed the right thing to wear to Elsie's funeral. Elsie was a toddler when Aaron and I met. I've watched three families from that Semester lose loved ones too young. Stephen's brother was 27. Aaron was 30. And Elsie was 17. 

 Alice Noebel was also too young. Yes, she would have been 90 next year, but that's too young, because death isn't how it's supposed to be. And I know that Jesus turned death on its head, making it the gateway to the New Kingdom for those who believe... But it wasn't supposed to be part of this world. Not until one of God's image-bearers reached out her hand to take; to make the choice between tov and ra for herself. 

That is what we all do... In big or small moments, we decide for ourselves what good or evil are. And sometimes we choose evil, saying it is good—while eschewing the good, experiencing it as evil. Our stubborn choices bring various kinds of death and destruction. In relationships. In creation. In ourselves. Knowing the real difference between tov (good) and ra (evil/bad) is nuanced and complicated, and I for one don't have enough information about the future to know which thing is which. That's why we are supposed to depend on the Creator of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil to help us discern. 

August is irrational, this one full of death and wounding grief beyond words. Perhaps the irrational part is that it also holds the bloom of love, bright and wild. Even in my own grief, I also know a love I've never known before. It is bright, illuminating. It is wild. It is both stable and hard to predict. And I experience this love as a sweet gift. On the surface it appears tov...  I pray for the wisdom from the Creator to know tov from ra, to open my hand to what He will place there in His time. It is so hard not to reach out and pluck what looks good and right. YHWH, give me wisdom and patience to wait on You. Help me to choose life, not death. Help me to see rightly what is tov. 

Somebody Loved

  Rain turns the sand into mud

    Wind turns the trees into bone

Stars turning high up above

                 You turned me into somebody loved

— The Weepies

  

Maybe it's the lateness of the hour. Maybe it's the weight of sorrow from the last two weeks finally breaking in. Maybe it's my lack of sleep. And maybe it's just truth hitting my unguarded heart... I stumbled across this song tonight, sitting in the soft twinkle lights of my kitchen. And now I find myself weeping as I listen on repeat. 

So much is held in that tiny line, "You turned me into somebody loved." Not someone lovable. Goodness knows all of us have moments, hours, whole seasons of being unlovable. But when someone loves us, even in in those seasons, well... We become someone loved. Not by anything we've done, but because someone makes the choice to love us. And that choice shapes who we are. 

And maybe I'm weeping in my kitchen because I've lived my whole life with people who love me. Knowing God loves me. Not everyone gets that—always knowing they are loved. And when someone does really, truly love them, it transforms them into somebody loved. 

 

Maybe I'm letting the tears flow here in my kitchen, because I also know that love for the first time. I haven't dated many men, but the ones I dated in the past, while I knew they loved me, never made me feel like somebody loved.

However, those words pierced my heart tonight because they resonated as utterly true. Nick has turned me into somebody loved. Maybe because he sees me for me—not as a project, not as an accessory, not as a sounding board, and not as an ego boost. I don't exist to highlight his story. He just loves me. 

I've always been loved, and I don't even know how grateful I am for that incredible gift...until I see the fractured lives all around me. Until my own world cracks. I've always known my parents' love, my sisters' love, God's love—I've never known life without their love. I accidentally take it for granted. I don't mean to, and I am deeply thankful for that constant love... It has made me who I am in so many wonderful, healthy ways.

But I lived so much of my life without Nick's love that I can see the difference between who I was before and who I am now. There is a different kind of comfort and confidence that comes when you are turned into somebody loved. 

As I listen to this song, I think of a young woman, neglected, abandoned as a child. She is out in the cold, on the streets. She has been used and abused. She is skittish and gauche. And then, someone comes along and loves her, even when she is graceless. They don't love what she could become, they just love her. . .as she is. And through that love, she is changed. Because how can we not be changed when we find that we are somebody loved? And yet, it isn't who-we-will-become that the person loves. It is us, as we are—messy and ridiculous—that they love. Certainly this can happen in non-romantic relationships, too. But there seems to be something sweeter when this change comes though a spouse (or an almost-spouse). 

My my writing skills are dusty, but even if they weren't, I really can't gather into words what that two minute forty-one second song says so simply and profoundly.

All I know is that being turned into somebody loved is a miracle—a gift from God.

____

1. Somebody Loved lyrics © Deb Talan Music, Steve Tannen Music

2. Photo by Tuva Mathilde Løland on Unsplash