Lisa Colón DeLay

It’s always an honor to hear someone really share their pain. Not wallow, mind you. Not over-exposing their fiery emotions and gory  details. Something real and raw from a tender and seldom seen place.

The heartfelt wounds that still hurt from some kind of past or unnoticed pain. The cries of the heart. The reaching out to be heard, and then the comfort realized.

It always strikes me that at the very time when someone is most revealed and open they are at the same time supremely vulnerable and yet exquisitely lovable.

Truly human. It’s not just an honor because it is so rare …(it happens usually through time and trust and other options are unfavorable)…it’s an honor because there is within that moment a genuine glimpse of glory.

“The glory of God revealed is the human most fully alive.” -Irenaeus of Lyons

We have a rebirth–a fully alive moment–in those sort of times: Vulnerability through the struggles and between destinations. There the messy becomes beautiful. Redeemed.

Even though it feels really risky, the chance to be truly seen and heard in our vulnerability engenders compassion because what is common between us transcends the boundaries that keep us isolated.

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(by Chris O Brien click for CC source)

You can’t die of a broken heart. It’s despair that kills you.

Having a broken heart, means you are alive. It means that something matters, and you haven’t gone numb (which is what usually happens to people after a while…or escapism, which is sort of the same).

Having a broken heart means that risk was rewarded with pain. But not pain unto death. Pain that gives way to experience you can’t find another way.

I used to think God was trying to kill me of a broken heart. Dashing my hopes and dreams. Allowing my son, or my father, or me to suffer until I couldn’t take it anymore. It felt like the beatings wouldn’t end.

At the end of that bit of brutality (as I perceived it) I realized I could be borne out of it, like a phoenix. And that was the point. To come to a resurrection. On the other side was life, not death. All the scars would be a kind of beauty, not a pitiable shame.

Don’t worry about your broken heart. It has to break apart to get to the fleshy part. The part so tender that only God can hold it…and be the only one who can and will protect it in a way you never could understand before. In a way that you can never do alone. You are brave enough for that. You. are.

Do. not. despair.

Mid-Eastern Sunrise

We all hope for new beginnings. Each day, at dawn, we get a picture of that. Each Spring we are reminded that rebirth is not just a great idea, but a reality more real than we can ever imagine.

Brother Lawrence, the lowly monk who is celebrating in the short book “Practicing the Presence of God: Letters of Brother Lawrence”, came to a sudden spiritual awakening of God’s reality, one Spring. He saw new life in the blooms of a tree, and the irrepressible force of Spring, defying so many doubts of recreation and new life.

God shows us himself in the realities and patterns of nature. They are his message to us, and his pictures to understand the nature of the unseen, Living God.

Today, it’s Easter morning. The grass is greener than it’s been all year. Dogwood trees are white with new blossoms. Forsythia brushes flame in gold blooms. Hyacinth have spread their color. Daffodils have popped up their pretty heads.

And God says, “This is good.”

Always wait for the dawn, my friends.

Tomb Stone (Jerusalem)

Things have been sort of heavy around here lately, with Lent, and Jesus dying and everything. Easter-wise, I think we’re in “tomb time” at this point. It’s where Jesus is physically dead from execution. Everybody in Jesus’ world has had a super crappy day. They put him in the ground, and seal it up. He’s dead. Their hearts and dreams are broken and shattered.

Jesus is in paradise or Hades… or maybe someone should explain that to me…hang on… Okay. Checked on that. If that bit is confusing to you too, try this article. (Then get back here, before I lose my train of thought.)

Anyway, I’m writing this from home. No. I should say, I’m writing this from a place where my mother lives, and where I spent a few college breaks, and one horrid 6 week summer stint before I got married almost 16 years ago. So, actually not home at all. There’s a dislocation all over.

My mom still lives here. It was her late husband’s house. A guy who wasn’t my father.

There’s a guy here, now. I call him Jerry, she calls him fiancé. They met on the computer, in February. I thought he would go back to his place by now, but it’s almost 11pm, and he’s still hanging around. We’re slated to see him, at his place, tomorrow, and most of Sunday, here. Trust me, it’s weird to be in my head, right now.

It feels much like I’m the protagonist in a very awkward Ben Stiller movie. But I haven’t had a chance to figure out my lines. The plot is sketchy. The characters are underdeveloped. I wouldn’t be able to explain it all, even if I tried. But, this picture may reveal much of what I can’t. (I’m the one on the left.)

(me with mom)

Kind of funny picture, no? Laugh for me, if you can.

So, I ate my feelings today. Which, in this case, means about a half a cup of Rasinets, and other sugar and carb no-nos. It feels like Tomb time. Things seem ruined, or broken, and altogether not right. I will acknowledge this.

I won’t shove it aside, or pretend I can’t feel it, see it, smell it. Life can really suck. (That’s a theological term. It means…oh nevermind.)

YET! I know this thing. Nothing can keep the dawn from coming.

I really like Easter and Spring. And well, life. Rebirth is also–excellent. Brighter days are ahead. Death has no victory. The tomb cannot keep us. Even the tomb of discontent, or broken dreams.

We are poised to celebrate life and renewal. Come, Lord Jesus.

I usually encourage responses to my posts. But this time, I’m just letting it all hang out without a care of that. You can do what you’d like, I just need to sit here for a while.

Click to get details.

When my friend and former classmate, Karen Weiss, sent me this information today, I knew I had to share it.

Lent is coming. This year the season of Lent begins soon, on March 9 and continues for 46 days until Easter Day. As Karen says, it offers us “an excellent time to clear away the clutter and delve into our faith. This devotional is designed to stretch and encourage you to look at life in a unique way through the eyes of saints that have walked before us. With the assistance of twelve different devotional classics, we can discover God in a new, relational way and grow stronger in our faith.”

I highly encourage you to take time this season to regularly reflect on the themes of Lent, especially in conjunction with a friend, family member, or small group. Make lenten reflection part of your spiritual journey this year. Explore this guidebook, or another devotional guide, that will take you deeper in your walk of faith. And please, keep me updated!

Karen’s devotional is only $7.50!

Yes, I know what you’re thinking, “AWESOME Valentine’s Day gift!” (Or you JUST thought that, in the last 2 seconds.)

BUT-JUST WAIT! As a special treat, this “Freebie February”, the first 25 people who respond in the comment section, will get a promo code for an additional $2 off. WHAT? Only $5.50? Moly Hoses! Yes, folks, that’s how I roll. Happy February, ya’ll!

Here is my Schuylkill-News column (Notes from the Footpath) for Easter and Spring.

The whole copy is available free at various places in Berks and Schuylkill counties, in PA, or on Facebook.

The Dark Night of the Soul, says  Dr. Gerald May, sounds different in his patients when they speak. There may be (felt) discouragement, and silence from God. There may be a confusion, and a lack of spiritual “experience” or lack of sensation of the spiritual as there had been before. But, compared to his patients who have symptoms of depression, these folks do not have despair like those who are depressed do. They do not have the same cynicism, even though they may feel alone.

In the dark night times one knows transformation is underway. During times of depression, one hopes to return to normal.

Because God is not a “thing” but rather Spirit-all places at once-as we progress spiritually, invitations come to rebirth and journey closer to union with him as Spirit. What I speak of here is not a journey to a physical spot, but to an awareness of God, in a deeper, richer way. One that involves faith, not sight, or even the crutch of sensation, which may confused for God, but also cannot be God, in actuality.

We can leave behind the old methods of tapping into the spiritual that are like outgrown child’s clothing–too small for us. Ultimately, we move toward union with God in this way.

Some dark nights take years to move through. We must not fear them because they involve a greater revelation of God’s amazing grace and love. The end always results in greater insights of God’s love, and greater union with the Divine, in a brighter day.

In Part III, I will talk about the “Dawn” from the Dark Night.

Some information taken from my reading: Gerald G. May, M.D. The Dark Night of the Soul: A Psychiatrist Explores the Connection Between Darkness and Spiritual Growth. Harper San Francisco, 2004.

 DID you read PART I ?

It was an uncharacteristically mild day, and I took a long bike ride. The recent inclement weather left the roads with gravel and debris in many spots–quite a danger for a cyclist. My riding buddy commented that a good rain would wash away the problem, and make it right again to ride more safely. It made me think of the cyclical system of nature–the rains that clean and restore. And also the approach of springtime. Rebirth. The theme of regeneration (and seasons/cycles) is ever present with us. It’s ingrained into the fabric of our experience, and I think our human nature. We want to start over. We crave rejuvenation. though change can be frightening, it also means liberation–and we know it deep down in the marrow. It is a reminder–all around–that the spiritual, and the Divine, is as close as one allows it to be.