Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Mercy

Yesterday's drive through the winding roads around Hayden Lake demanded some company from Crystal Davy, a wonderful singer/songwriter from back home in Lincoln. I gladly accepted the task of driving into town (which many people avoid because the 30 minute drive is only 12 miles away and has a whopping 98 turns). I took the errand mostly for time, space, and a designated task that I could focus on.

Because lately, if I don't have something to focus on--to do--I go into this weird dark cloud kind of state of mind. I start imagining that this not-ideal season in our lives, is really just what marriage is. That this is how it will always be. That this is it. And as my dear friend, Kylie, reminded me today, it's difficult to re-frame my thinking because this season is the only season our short 1 month of marriage has ever known. If I don't catch myself, I start imagining that our marriage will always be a collection of just passing comments at lunch time and brushing our teeth together in the morning. The other night, I was struggling to articulate these feelings to Jeremy and he sincerely and gently said, "Bo, I'm worried about you." And I said, "Me too."

So the song "Mercy" by Crystal Davy was relished about 6 times on my drive into town. The words just felt right. We're all crying for mercy in one way or another.

Mercy
God of all the big and small things
Hear our cry for mercy
Darkness, sorrow flee before You
Hear our cry for mercy

Love of Heaven, here incarnate
Can the dust sing out Your praise?

Hear our cry for mercy
Hear our cry for mercy
Hear our cry for mercy

You have given all we’ve needed
You put strength into our bones
You have taken, You have weakened
You made hunger grip our souls

Father, Father, daily bread give
You’d not offer us a stone
You’d not offer us a stone
Hear our cry for mercy


My wise-mind knows that the last three years we've spent working, talking, and learning how to love each other do not simply disappear in a month.

My heart knows that it has endured discomfort before and will endure it again.

My body knows that this ache won't kill me.

My spirit knows that everything will be all right in the end and if it's not all right, it's not the end.

Pema Chodron says that our pain, our discomfort, our scraped knees, and our heartache are what connects us with the rest of the world. We are not only a smiling string of human beings holding hands around the perimeter of the world, most of us spend a lot of time in discomfort and stress, crying out for mercy. This discomfort--this season that I am learning about myself, about marriage, and about adulthood--is what links me to the rest of the world that endures human pain. Just. Like. Me. And that somehow makes me feel a little bit better. 

Hear our cry for mercy.




2 comments:

Joe Okimi said...

In a way, I understand. I can understand barely seeing your significant other. I can understand worry that you're not going to make it. I can understand having a hard time finding the right words.

Malisa and I have been married for almost a year now and we're still figuring out how to make our marriage work. It takes time and a lot of work. But I take some comfort in knowing that, at the end of the day, we're still together.

Hang in there. =)

Starfish said...

Beautifully written. I appreciate your words!