Feast of Hope

A room transformed.

Brown classroom tables covered with

 linens, china, silverplate

dancing candle flames and bright spring blooms

And food...

a smorgasbord of salads, meats, breads and stews

Oh, and some chocolate too:)

It was our last class in the Theology of Suffering Course.

We spent our time together feasting

and sharing symbols of hope

and our individual Prose of Hope.

We ate with the silverware that was my mother's..

 my symbol of hope.

I expressed the longevity of the journey

to move from a place of only mourning her death

to being able to celebrate her life

It seemed only fitting to feast

with her silverware.

And my Prose of Hope?

Never would I have thought

in those first weeks

that I could ever arrive at a place called hope

My soul has seemed stuck

for a long time

I'm free now

What a gift God has given me through the teachings

of this professor

and the shared community of those who journeyed

this course with me

Prose of Hope

God of quiet mystery

You hold me fast in Your Sovereign grip

Suffering's harsh winds once threatened to unmoor me...

the dismantling of my soul trailing my footsteps

This fighting quest--to reconcile God-forsakenness with

Emmanuel "God-with-us" proved futile--

until now--

The healing of the breach is not for today

Today I live and breathe

suspended

between the holy truth of who You are

and the inescapable reality of my broken, post-Eden dwelling

Strange though it sounds, there is a restful calm within this tension

a laying down of arms

a moving away from the battle zone

Though my soul lives unmended

I am at peace

I am free to invite others to journey suffering's mysterious way

Together we will learn what it means to walk this earth in the shadow of You--

my God of quiet mystery

"For now we see in a mirror dimly,

but then face to face;

now I know in part, but then I shall know fully

just as I also have been fully known."

1 Corinthians 13:12