Frailty, Fortitude, and Hope

"I asked God for strength, that I might achieve.

I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.

I asked for health, that I might do greater things.

I was given infirmity, that I might do better things.

I asked for riches, that I might be happy.

I was given poverty, that I might be wise.

I asked for power that I might have the praise of men.

I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God.

I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life.

I was given life, that I might enjoy all things.

I got nothing that I asked for—but got everything I had hoped for.

Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.

I am, among all people, most richly blessed."   

When I first read this poem, I was led to a lot of gratitude.  And I remember that certain mysteries about how the world works felt revealed.  The sort of thinking mentioned so eloquently by this unknown Confederate soldier is all about a pace for life.  A stance or direction toward something, or at least what you lean into as you grow.  I was just now thinking of things that are ironic and other things that are still mysterious and unknown about life.  And then this poem came back. 



Everything in the words that have been mentioned....achievement, greatness, power, invincibility...I've asked for it.  And just as the poem says, I've been led to other places.  Knowing that I, because of God's grace, will see the things I always hoped for instead of always so singlemindedly asked for is a certain kind of comfort.  I really believe the best kind of living can be found in this place.  It's hard to swallow sometimes, but very real once the pride moves away.


This year has been absolutely paramount in terms of refinement.   I have been mulling it over and I've come to this.  I do not doubt God's faithfulness.  And I haven't doubted that Jesus is my friend and God's Spirit is a counselor.  But I've not understood timing and hope and things beyond.  Relevance and tolerance and the intensity of broken things in humanity.  That's what is hard to understand. And life is messy.  I no longer relish in the cookie cutter ideas because there is value to the mess.   It's just painfully obscure when you're standing in it.


'Ships are safe in the harbor, but that's now what they are made for.'  Isn't that how it goes?  Isn't that how it feels too?  We know we are made for this kind of refinement, if we can stare it down and take an honest look at what we see.


 I feel grateful for good people that show me real humanity.  There have been people who have done this for me this year.  People who you breathe in and out next to.  People who have made me laugh when I feel like crying.  People who I have made laugh when they are on the verge of tears.  People who reside in fortitude and graciousness.  Sometimes, in your broken humanity, breathing and laughing and residing is all you do, and that is enough. And then there are the simple things that those people say that are akin to the glowing words I mentioned yesterday that stand out in their simplicity and truthfulness in a complex world.  These people have been so generous.  I have been so thankful.


A younger me would have scoffed at this and moved on to things more complex, but the soul inside of me now that has grappled with the aforementioned things, says yes to wrestling and resting adequately too.  And really owning what is tried and true and shifting and growing and human.

When I celebrated my birthday this year, the world really did shift and look different to me again.  I think this happens every few years, and you look around and smile about new things and see other sides of people and invest in the world from another place.  I did not waltz into May 20 with all kinds of refining statements about the next adventurous year.  But there they were, waiting for me.  



Right before this picture was taken (on my birthday at the Washington Square Grill), things in the world shifted and it all looked different and older and new again.  Of course Ariane and Jamie heard about this on the way to the car.

All of these ideals sound indirect and scarce without the weight of the everyday tasks and the schedules we construct for ourselves.  How do they fit?  I don't think they linger in the surface area for too long...that's why they are feeling so tried (and eventually so true).  But I am learning that when I say yes to it all, all doors are open.  So, tonight I declare, in frailty and fortitude, that I will continue to say yes to the following things....


...prayer to a good God, giving people the time of day, kindness to people in all stations, 'doing good by stealth and blushing to find it fame', being tried, being true, friends across the miles, teaching, honoring intuition, pen pals, self-reliance, what my friend with twins - Kari - calls 'my people', my best words, family, the release of pride, new styles, old shining things, intentionality, loving that despite myself, my unspoken prayers are answered... 

AND

the mystery of knowing that that even when I think I got nothing I asked for, sometimes I actually end up with things I had uttered with hope all along.