Faith-Based Weirdness

The story I’m about to tell will cause most of you to shake your heads in disbelief. Some of you will laugh, and wonder. A select few will understand, because your lives are all about this kind of faith-based weirdness. It all started in March, when I found I needed to walk away from the last “reliable” source of income we had in order to preserve my sanity, and my integrity.

Michael worried; we both did. We had thought of several ways for me to replace or even better that income when I was overcome with a profound and enduring fatigue that would not release me. Physical fatigue, mental fatigue, I’ve felt them before and found ways to go on anyway. But this was as much spiritual as anything, and no matter what I tried, I could not find a way to break free. I have a book to promote, a website and blog to maintain. I have two apprentices for ordination now, and host a meditation circle once a week. I tried to carry on with these things anyway.

I got sick. For the second time this year. Until 2005 I haven’t been sick twice in five years, let alone twice in the same season. What was happening to me?

In the meantime, the bills were mounting. The pressure on our checking account was pressing it close to the breaking point. Claiming unemployment turned out to be a non-option. The newspaper did not run my classified ad as an experienced caregiver looking for new clients.

The fatigue continued to stretch my days into undifferentiated grey intervals. More of our clients couldn’t pay us. The darkness threatened to swallow us whole. The only guidance I got said “It is in the midst of darkness when it’s truly needful for us to declare the
light.”

Right. Where am I going to get the energy to do that?

I did. I still don’t know how, exactly, but I declared the light, and forced myself to remember that all this lack is an illusion. That we are taken care of, even if we don’t understand how. That there will always be enough, and that when God closes a door, it’s because he’s opened a window. I made myself live in that space, rejecting the evidence of my senses, and keep faith with the Universe that all would indeed be well.

I didn’t have a clue how, mind you. Good thing it isn’t my job to know.

As we were leaving the grocery store yesterday, and older fellow stepped up to my husband and asked, “Is this your truck?”

We were driving my husband’s 1981 Volkswagen Rabbit, a diesel pick up that runs so faithfully, the post office should take notes. Good fuel economy, reliable, and a fixture in our family for several years now. “Bugsy” has a kind of personality, or moxy, that most newer
vehicles just don’t.

“Yes,” my husband answered. We often draw positive commentary about Bugsy, so this wasn’t yet as weird as it might have seemed.

“How much do you want for him?”

“Uh,” Michael said. I couldn’t blame him. I was a bit dumbfounded, too. “I hadn’t really thought of selling,” he said. We glanced at each other. I shrugged, smiled, and got in the truck to sit down. Somewhere, the light was kindling. I could feel it.

They spoke for several minutes. Michael got his name and number, and an exhortation to call if he ever thought to sell the little truck. Michael agreed, got in beside me, and we left for home.

We hadn’t made it out of the parking lot before I burst into laughter. The selling price for Bugsy would clear up most of our current difficulties. Michael knows where he can get another, bigger truck with a price well within what we could get for Bugs. It would get our minivan back on the road. It would ease the strain on our checking account completely. In short, it is a solution that really is the answer to our prayers.

Oh, and my fatigue has lessened considerably. It’s not gone completely, but I feel I can function again. I have energy to promote my book, rededicate my ministry, host that meditation circle, guide the weekly lessons with my students.

Faith-based weirdness. I teach this to my students all the time, write about it in articles, toss it around with friends, know that in all things we are more closely held than we could possibly understand. Most especially, when we feel alone in the darkness, searching for a way, any way, to declare the light.

Quote of the Day: Perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave. –Rainer Maria Rilke

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