LOST
In the middle of the journey of our life
I came to myself within a dark wood
where the straight way was lost.
I journey on
though I glimpse mere steps at a time.
The path ahead
obscured by that which
I cannot fathom or control.
Perhaps it is this:
fragile and afraid,
that drives me.
I push on,
long past faltering feet
and ragged breath.
I can not slow.
I shall not stop.
Movement implies direction,
perhaps—even—purpose.
I push on
though my heart calls me,
to stand and breathe. To gaze:
Around, where life pulses
Up, where universes whirl
Behind, in celebration of being
Ahead, where dreams unfurl.
I push on
though the trail narrows,
meanders, creeps, trips, tangles.
Though dusk draws on darkness,
hiding even this next step
on the once straight way.
Only when I can push no more
do I waver.
To
find myself…
Lost.
(Opening line from Dante’s ‘Inferno’)
I have been pushing too hard for too long. Writing—which used to flow so joyfully—has been an effort. I’m second guessing myself on parenting and many other things I used to do with confidence.
This Lent has offered me the gift of slowing down, stopping and taking stock. It has given me a sense of my own lostness. It’s a good realisation I suspect—a start on the way back to that ‘straight path’.
But how do I find my way back?
I’ve seen a few signposts pointing in the right direction.
The first are the words Jesus spoke to another woman too busy to realise her own tiredness:
“Martha, Martha. You are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10: 41-42)
The first step back is to do as Mary did–the better way. Sit at Jesus’ feet.
I find other signposts in the advice of John O’ Donohue:
Take refuge in your senses, open up to the small miracles you rushed through.
Become inclined to watch the way of rain when it falls slow and free.
Imitate the habit of twilight, taking time to open the well of colour that fostered the brightness of day.
Draw alongside the silence of stone until its calmness can claim you. Be excessively gentle with yourself.
Gradually you will return to yourself, having learnt a new respect for your heart and the joy that dwells far within slow time.(From ‘To Bless the Space Between Us’)
And so if our paths should cross and you find me watching the way of rain or pressing my cheek against silent stone, know that I have chosen to dwell in slow time.
Use it as a moment to stop and take stock of where you are on your own journey. If you sense you might be a little lost too, heed the words Jesus spoke to Martha and allow yourself the time and space to find your way back to the straight path.
Hi Joan,
Today in my flip calendar of Jesus Calling, it reads, “….Your relationship with Me is meant to be vibrant and challenging, as I invade more and more areas of your life. Do not fear change, for I am making you a new creation, with old things passing away and new things continually on the horizon….”
This got me to thinking that as we enter new phases in life, where the path is tangled, unfamiliar, or just plain hard-going, our God is with us and He is at work leading us, changing us, calling to us to trust Him and to rest in Him.
We may feel lost – because we have no idea what we are doing or we may just feel discombobulated – yet our lostness is our need. To be totally abandoned to Him and totally able to rest in the truth that we are enough in Christ and He accepts us and embraces us just as we are.
Great Post, Joan! Thank you so much!
love, heather
You wrote to find out what you knew, Joan, and you found it. Thank you for sharing this lost, tired place with us.It’s so very real. “Be excessively gentle with yourself” as you begin to dwell in slow time. I need to join you there… Much love, Gill
Thanks Heather! Trust and rest – love that.
Thank you Gill. Excessively gentle – not so easy when there’s a voice in our heads telling us all that needs to be done. But I’m definitely going to try over-ride her for a while!
I removed my gold chain one day because I’d put on a silver string of beads. I thought it convenient to pop it into a corner of my dashboard. When I tried to get it back it had snaked its way down out of reach. But I knew it wasn’t LOST! (It was my symbol of HOPE for the relationship when Mark gave it to me over 20 years ago before I’d overcome my resistance.) It took a kind man at the Toyota dealer to dismantle much of the dashboard… My gold chain was found in a most unexpected place – under the carpet! And so it is with hope when we think we’re lost.
I feel that too, hence the 2nd last line of the poem – and find myself… It feels very hopeful in fact – the beginning of growth! Thanks Wendy -glad you found your gold chain 🙂
Thank you for always sharing Joan. As you may know I have been very much lost for over a year now. God has brought things to cross my path, and has very clearly been telling me to slow down. Unfortunately I just have not wanted to hear. Your words have forced me to admit that I need to slow down.
Thanks for this thoughtful and helpful post. I love your writing and I can relate to your experience.
I feel not so much lost but as though my life is stuffed so full that the seams are taking strain. A little sitting at Jesus feet and just enjoying being there will do me a world of good too. Sorry I missed the reunion. Maybe we should try to meet up again some time.
I just love your poetry.