I have made it my mantra to say, "That's not my learning style."

And wearing it like a badge, I refuse to participate in "video learning." But today the message was to be just that. I could leave, but I stayed. I was always a sucker for Joseph in the Old Testament.

And I heard the word I was loathe (?) to hear--reconciliation. It means more than a husband and wife getting back together. It meant fixing brokenness--maybe in ways we didn't expect. And then he said these words: "It doesn't mean you won't go your separate ways. It means you have to clean out the wound, make your part in it right." He told us to go to the one who has been wounded by me or has done the wounding and say, "I regret that our relationship has come to this place, and I'm sorry." Maybe nothing would be made right, but the purpose of reconciliation is to put it out there so God can do the work, so God can cleanse the wound--whichever heart is wounded.

I followed instructions--not wanting to cry, but I did--and I spoke the words (again? for the hundredth? the thousandth? time). This time it was different; it was acceptance and ending.

So maybe I did learn something in video class today; how to let go and say goodbye and let God--all the cliches that I rebel against.

I'll be like Joseph today. You may mean if for evil, maybe I did too. But God means it for good. I'll let him be in charge of it.

you

Speak,
Usually so far removed,
but today only a hair's breadth away.

Nervous, twitchy
articulate,
funny

tortured.

I try to connect
use my focus, my energy
but you will not look.

Are you afraid?

Do you connect with anyone?

Or scan over as you make your point.

You turn within yourself and I find myself praying that you will settle, relax,
be at peace.

God,

why am I always drawn to the ones with broken wings?

This is the Voice of One Crying in the Wilderness

The Bible says to prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. But how does one build a highway in the desert? The sands obliterate any progress made.

How does one prepare when all around looks the same? Desolate, lost, filled with death.

I have wandered for many years in the wilderness--sometimes with a pack, sometimes not. Sometimes finding oasis, other times not.

Sometimes sensing the cloud by day and the fire by night, other times not.

Perhaps like the children of Israel my wandering shall last forty years or until I die. The price for my stubborness and rebellion.

Will I make it to the promised land? Or will I, like Moses, be doomed to see it from afar? Will I drop and be covered over with the sands that blow around me?

I cannot say. I can only hope that today I will have the strength to move forward my alloted amount.

Crying, yes. In the wilderness, yes.