These days I find that my questions outnumber the answers. The terrain is far more complex than what it was 20 years ago. There are days when circumstances overwhelm me. Landscapes of social media and technology are changing faster than I can keep pace. I hear words like stories, streaks, and tea or ship, feels, and slaps and quickly realize that these words have been reinvented and I am lost. Relationships are continuously evolving as we cross into new fields of adult children, aging parents, faith journeys, sensory processing sensitivities, and the familiar but still perplexing teenage angst. The questions stretch me and lead me to the borderlands of my soul, uncertain of what to do or where to go. Author Wendell Berry wrote, “It may be that when we no longer know which way to go that we have come to our real journey.” I believe this journey in life is one of growth and creation.
There are nights when it seems that Jacob goes to sleep in pajamas that reach generously below his ankles and by morning he awakes wearing a pair of capris. Though I wish it would slow down a bit, growth is something I expect from my children – in fact, I think it’s line item number 3.2 in our parent-child contract which states: “Parents will help children grow.” I recently discovered a lesser-known sub-line in this contract, which reads, “Growth is lifelong, even eternal and both parents and children will need guidance and support throughout this process. Both parties are in a constant state of growing up.” Somehow I missed that part and have spent the better part of my adult life believing I had (or should have) most of the answers. That of course my children were growing up, but I (a grown up) had phased out of that stage. I believed that once my shoe size and height stopped changing, my growing up was done and yet my soul kept outgrowing its skin.
Nature turned out to be my great teacher once again. High atop Mt. Yassur, an active volcano on the island of Tanna in Vanuatu, I witnessed the earth growing up and creation occurring before my eyes. As the sun went down, we watched in awe (with a healthy dose of trepidation), as the earth spewed forth molten lava in a dazzling display of fireworks. Earlier in the day we had seen lava fields, where boiling liquid rock had poured out to blaze new trails and literally create new earth. Some newer patches were still charred black and desolate, while older fields were home to lush flowers and verdant forests. It was a sacred moment for us, nestled between a crater of bubbling molten earth and the Milky Way painted across the ever-expanding night sky. We were right in the middle of it – creation and growth on an epic scale. I had not considered the fact that the earth in all its splendor and great capacity, was still growing and being formed; that there were yet new lands and passageways to be discovered, never before seen. The earth, my children – are not so very different than me. We are all growing up.
My questions seem to usher in a life force from within that breaks forth into new pathways and dimensions that help advance me toward the greatest vision God has for me and my family. We are not only transformed in this life – we are actually growing and continuously part of creation. When the path seems to end and the ground beneath me starts to rumble, I know to hold on – something new is emerging. And while at first these new lands may seem dark, dreary and uncertain, I am reminded of the wisdom of Rilke who wrote, “…the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps [we] will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” The questions point the way to new lands rich with needed light and wisdom. And the new growth provides space for me to hold greater capacities for compassion, kindness, and love.
Pajama pants are in high demand this year – I’m going to see if I can catch some good sales…
