Poem, Prayer, Praise

This poem has been sitting in my soul since I first read it...

“Some Say You’re Lucky” by George Orr

“Some say you’re lucky
If nothing shatters it.

But then you wouldn’t
Understand poems or songs.
You’d never know
Beauty comes from loss.

It’s deep inside every person:
A tear tinier
Than a pearl or thorn.

It’s one of the places
Where the beloved is born.”

There is a parable in this poem.  It takes our conventional, common sense, cliche that suffering is always bad...and turns it on its head.  If I never struggle, I miss an important part of the human condition.  If I never come across the sharp shards of life, I miss something that tethers me to other featherless bipeds who walk this earth. 

After all, who wants to go see a movie or read a book where there is no plot twists or where our hero or shero doesn't face obstacles.  Would we watch someone who sails through life?  Would we be compelled by a story that essentially said, "Everything is awesome" (which if The Lego Movie taught us anything it is that rarely is everything awesome.)

Richard Rohr reminds us that often what brings us closer to God is either great love or great struggle.  Anne Lamont says our most heartfelt and honest prayers are, "Thank you!" and "Help!!"  Unfortunately, we are sometimes better at the "Help" prayer than the "Thank you!" prayer.

The tears in life can open us to something we might never had experienced.  I remember when I am hanging on by a thread that is coming unraveled and there are insights from that place and space that won't occur anywhere else.

To be sure...I would much, much rather to learn lessons in moments of laughter/grace.  But I also know when I am faced with my own facility and vulnerability there is truth in that space that cannot be manufactured or made up.  It is in those moments where love is born, because you start to realize who stands with you when the chips are down.  You realize whose love can help you take one more step when you are tired, weak and worn.  You realize God's grace is not abstract but comes from people who hold your hand and don't try to explain or rationalize away the pain.

Is there a place right now where lift feels torn?
Some place where God as a seamstress is slowing stitching you back together, one pull of the thread at a time?
Is there any truth you have encountered here that previously was obscured?

I cannot say that all suffering teaches us something.  Nor should we seek out pain.  But when difficulty and struggle arrive unannounced on our doorstep for a visit, perhaps sitting in that moment can offer us more than a trace of God's grace.

With great hope and many blessings ~~