Coming Home Again

I travelled north. I found rest. I found true sabbath rest. As I buried myself in Mandate to Difference in a coffee shop today, Walter Brueggemann reminded me that this is what I had needed. It is what we all need. His words in this book reminded me how important it was that I turned off my cell phone and didn't look at a clock for 36 hours. I had no agenda. I just wandered through this town where lobstermen still work on islands off the coast. I try not to romanticize this -- but I really can't help it.

I spent today driving through the snow looking at lighthouses along the coast. I noticed country churches and thought how wonderful it would be. I noticed the lack of my denomination's presence and wondered why. (This is rare here. We are everywhere.) I had passing thoughts about how wonderfully romantic it would be for me and my brawny lobsterman. Of course, this is a delusion. I know this. I knew this.

The day before, I went to this museum to stand in front of this painting and wept.

I saw this painting after seeing several other paintings by various artists related to this artist. And yet, somehow, it was a powerful experience to witness this image. I don't know why exactly. I'm not sure if it was because this particular painting was housed in a renovated church. I'm not sure if it was because this painted sky swept through my heart like a spring breeze. I'm not sure if it's simply because it calls to me from a place of my childhood or if it just evoked the sensitivity of my grandmother's brushstrokes. Whatever it was, I wept with delight and sadness all at once.

It was almost as if the muse called to me through the paint. I knew then what I have known. I knew that there was more for me to learn. I knew that these artists would teach me what I needed to learn from this place. I knew that the crazy idea that I have had about church is still calling me. I can't ignore it. I just have to figure out how to create it. And so, I did what one can only do in that moment, I painted. I sat in the cozy B&B window and painted the harbor. I searched the horizon knowing that there is and will always be more out there for me.


ymp said...

I love coming home again, and hate that it took so long for me to find home again.
Blessings on being home!

apbs said...

i enjoyed bru.'s book, too. i didn't read it on retreat, but i did read it on the beach during the summer. does that count?