the quality of light

i had a hell of a weekend. seriously. i really cannot think of any other way to describe it than with the words spiritual oppression. darkness, heaviness, confusion, nebulous fear, loss of sleep, all connected to this feeling that i was fighting something or in the middle of some kind of battle. walking around in this weird weirdness, i didn’t really even know what was going on until about two-thirds of the way through it.

by the time sunday morning rolled around, i was exhausted, and on top of everything else, angry. i was catching on to this whole oppression thing, feeling the threat of its evil in my home, toward my family. i was the live example of the saying “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” and trust me, you don’t want to be the brunt of my anger.

naturally, trying to get myself and wyatt and seth ready for church was not a pleasant experience--for any of us. add to that: bad hair, bad skin, bad attitude. the only thing I had going for me as i walked into church were the kick-ass boots I was wearing.

i sang the songs, offered and received the peace of Christ, listened to nathan’s truth-and-hope-filled sermon. somewhere in the middle of all that, some light broke through. the Light broke through. it was almost like waking up from a dream, or rather, a nightmare, this sense of returning to myself and to life as I know it. my mind cleared, the heaviness lifted, i could breathe again.

i was scheduled as one of the four deacons to serve communion. i love serving communion. it is one of my all-time favorite things to do—to participate in this most holy and mysterious of sacraments, to stand and offer each person a piece of bread and to speak the words “this is the body of Christ, broken for you.”

now, i am always near tears when i serve communion. (i cry often, but you already know that, right?) i try to push through the tears, though, so that i can say the words i love to say, and most times, i succeed. this past sunday, despite the raw condition of my mind and heart, i made it through without crying. almost. we were nearing the end of communion; the line was short. but when i looked up and saw my friend erin coming toward me, the dam broke.

erin is hilarious, tender-hearted, full of depth and life. although we are still in the early stages of getting to know each other, we have one of those "connections." there is something alike in us that makes us a part of the same tribe. (this may be news to her, I don’t know. i haven’t really discussed it with her yet.) when I saw erin, something did break in me, or perhaps was invited out of me. i cried for all of the sadness and fear and weariness and disappointment from the weekend. and i cried for the beauty and redemption found in the sacrament of the Eucharist. Eucharist, meaning grateful, thankful.

so, for the rest of communion, i stood in front of the church and cried. in times past, this would have deeply embarrassed me. i would have felt shame equivalent to walking around with the back of my dress tucked up into my panties. i don’t feel that anymore. i’m becoming more reconciled to myself, tears and all. this is who I am: love it or leave it, baby.

last night i had coffee with my friend juli, who is balm to my soul, and i found affirmation and hope in our conversation. now i am reading anne lamott, one of my favorite authors. reading her is like eating my favorite candy (hot tamales or sour patch kids, depending on which day you catch me).

i’m pretty worn out today, and i can feel a headache coming on. but i can see some light, and that’s enough. for now.