A Flight From Fellowship To Joy
As I settled into the long flight over the Pacific Ocean, I sighed. Like I always do at this point in traveling on an airplane. My work finished. All I am left with to do is sit. In the wings. Settle into the seat. And rest, in the waiting. From here to there. But this sigh was larger. This seat, deeper. This rest, heavier. Because these wings would usher in Peace. Large. Deep. Heavy Peace. And deliver me. To Joy.
Fight or Flight. The normal response in acute stress. Prolonged conflict. Ongoing trauma. I had been in fight mode for so long. Necessary, life or death fight mode. In conflict with evil that came to steal, kill and destroy. Strip. Flesh for flesh. Traumatize. My family. And it had gone on so long it had become physically visible. I used to wish that emotional wounds could be seen on the outside. Wished that cuts to the heart, bruises on the mind, scrapes in the soul were visible for all to see so that others could see what we felt. And become angry. Fight. Against the Source. With me. Fight with Us. Against. IT. But when my wish came true and the emotional damage to the heart and mind and soul became visible on the body. Bared. Stripped. Flesh for flesh. Burning Bones. And no one got angry. Fought with me. The wounds only became larger, the trauma yet deeper, and I became... heavier. Sank. In. Harder. Had to fight this heavy weight fight harder. Because I was. We were. Largely, deeply, heavily. Mostly... Alone. In the midst. Of the daily, day to day, day after day ongoing fight. And we were emotionally, intellectually, spiritually, and physically... Well, we were not well. And there came a point. A breaking point. When I knew. It was Time. For Flight.
So I walked away from the Fight. Packed up our clothes. Shipped our belongings. And us. What was left of us. Away from the Source. Of Pain. There had been so much Pain. Irreconcilable. Unfixable. Unbearable. Pain. In Missouri. And I was moving. Me. And my family. In pieces. Broken, scattered pieces of our family, lying scattered at the head of every street. Some of us were now on A Flight. From Fellowship. With Pain. Because no longer could I stand. We could no longer stand. Up. I was worn. Down. We had been worn down. To pulp. Beaten down. Bloody knuckle pulp. Held down. Far too long. Until I fell. Collapsed. Here, now. Between the wings. In this seat. Sighed a big sigh of relief. And rested. For the first time in a long, long time. God. How I needed rest. Bared by Pain. A Prisoner of Hope. In the cocoon of a 747. Bound for Joy.
And as the waters rushed against my mouth in the ocean in between, I turned my face. Like flint. Toward Grief.
The waters surged. And I stumbled and fell headfirst in the tow and found myself gasping for air. Soaked in emotion, I was overwhelmed by feeling upon feeling crashing. Against me. Inside me. With force. Not caring. That I had been numbed. By Trauma. Kept crashing up against. My heart, mind and soul. Making my body. Bleed. Deep blue grieving. There had been no time in the midst of the fight to feel. But now that it was over. Emotions pushed feelings down to the inward dwellings of my heart, drove them up through my gut, and wedged them inside the channels of my mind. Feelings tumbled me head over heal with waves of sadness and sickness and screams... of the soul. Shoved me forward with anger, frustration and rage and then circled me around in whirlpools of fear, hopelessness, and despair. As the emotions and feelings kept seeking a way out, a single tear fell from the outward edge of my left eye. Edged out. By Pain. Suspended there. By Hope.
My interior ocean. Had withstood so much. Could only stand so much. Had withstood. Too much. Its edges pierced, it had been leaking, it always seemed to be leaking. From my eyes. And I was exhausted. Everyone. Around my interior ocean that kept leaking from my eyes, splattering drops of Pain. We were all of us, exhausted. From wiping. Away Tears. Cleaning up torrents of Pain, splattering. Pain kept rivering. Down my face.
This Flight carried me through the great ocean on wings like eagles. Rising up. With the peaks of grief that rose with the sun. Descending. Into the valley. Easing. me. Down. Setting me down with the sun that was traveling like me to set down in the West. I followed along with the labor of the sun in the sky and as the shadows shifted, I could see. The Sun. Leading us. On wings like eagles. Leading me. From one day to another with the pangs that birth a new day. Those who go out weeping, with the night. Return with sheaves. Of Joy. Joy that comes in the morning. After the labor. Of the mourning. Births a new day.
So I set my face like flint towards the horizon of grief knowing the journey of mourning I needed to enter so that I could once again feel... Myself. Being delivered. To Joy. Joy. For. me. I. Need to feel again. Pain. Breathing. Out. Held in for too long. Emotions ignored. Feelings suppressed. Repressed. Oppressed. In the Fight. So I could Fight the good Fight. I hadn't had Time or Space, or Room. To Feel. Emotions. All. Bottled up. Shoved down. Wedged in. Inside me. Sideways. Needing. Releasing. Understanding. Forgiving. Accepting. I needed a sigh in a seat between wings that gave me rest so that I could once again allow. Myself. To feel. Joy. For. me. I. Needed to be wrapped. In a cocoon of grief after this great long day of fellowship with. Pain. Wings. Would lead me. Through. The ocean of Grief. Out. On the other side, I would feel a new day. Emerge. Joy. In Hawaii. Joy For me.
The cocoon opened and I could smell the sugar cane air welcoming me and feel the salty winds relaxing me. I could sense. Palms. Reaching out, bringing me. In. Close. Do you hear? I can hear. Creation sing. A song of Joy. For me. See. The Moon. He came out. To see me. See us. No longer needing to hide his Moon Face from me. He came to see. me. I could see. We could see... Stars! So bright they strained our eyes. They were still there... Hidden so long under a wet blanket of despair, I had begun to think they had never really existed at all. Hide. And seek. They now peeked. Out from the dark sky. Twinkling, like a smile. For me. Pulling back the blanket. Peekaboo. And I knew. Joy. Would come with the mourning. Joy. Always comes in the morning. For me.
On this island. Maui. She stood firm. Under my feet. A queen. Full of grace. Lifts her head with quiet strength and and her spirit with loud dignity. Sets her face. Like a stone wall. Against the storm. Of Grief. And smiles. Yes, she knows. Storms. Heaving oceans. Rage. Swell. And pound. But they always. Yes, they always. Blow through. Maui would show me. How to stand firm, with my face like flint, through this great storm of grief, waiting... in Hope. On wings like eagles. For Joy. Will not be rushed. Takes. His Own. Sweet. Precious. Lovely. Time. I would have to learn. The pace. Of grace. Thought it comes, it tarries. Maui would teach me. The rhythm. Of aloha.
And she did. How she did. In her own sweet, precious, lovely time. She showed me. Maui Grace. With rainbows tattooed in trees and written across the skies. For me. She taught me. The Rhythm of Aloha. That swayed gently and quietly and softly. With her hips.
I would take this flight. Back and forth. From Maui to Missouri. Missouri to Maui. Over and over, over the course of years. Being wrapped. Safe. My work finished. I could rest. Now. In a cocoon. Of an airplane. Of an island. Of a home. Many times. Sitting down. Settling down. Breathing out. Pain. Sighing out. Pain. In a wide seat where there was room, for Beauty. Baring. For me. Resting me... in the midst of broad wings. Delivering me... through deep waters. Of an ocean. I am still. Here. I can Be Still. There. Even now. After the Fight. Taking Flight from the Fellowship of Pain. Finding myself. Being wrapped. In wings like eagles. Bound for Joy. Joy For me.
Today. i am. I AM.
Here. In my laundry room. Washing sheets. Making dirty sheets... clean. Like a new day. For our family. So that tonight. When we lay our heads. Now I lay me. Down. To sleep. With a sigh. Settle into bed. And rest. Here in Missouri. In Our Hebron Home. In the midst of the land of the living where we Fight the great Fight of this world, crashing against us does not care, so we need our rest. We take A Flight from Fellowship to Joy. We move each night. Away from the Fight. Climb into a cocoon. Of fresh clean sheets. Knowing. Joy will come in the morning. For me. For Us. After our minds and bodies, hearts and souls. Have had their rest. Mourn. Away. Pain from the day. We will be carried on wings like eagles through that great ocean in Joy's Own. sweet. precious. lovely. Time. In the pace. Providence. Of Grace. Revealed. We have found. Hidden inside us all along. Where we stand. Firm. And smile. Like Maui. Yes, we have learned. The rhythm of Aloha. Baring Beauty. Like Hawaii. Joy For Me.
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