God knows.

I’m standing outside, looking around at the beauty that is today. I’m thinking about leaving. I’m thinking about how, the longer I stay here, the harder it becomes to think about leaving. It took a long time to form a community here, and now that I have it, it’s daunting to think about starting from scratch, alone, and in a new language that I do not yet speak.

I’m thinking about how the more I read and think and talk to people, the more questions I have. About myself, and my usefulness. Like, is there room for me in this kind of work in Rome? Or am I just selfishly wanting to help? Can you even want to help selfishly? Can the desire to leave comfort and delve into hard (but beautiful) be selfish? Beuchner says that where the world’s deep hunger and our deep gladness meet, is where we’re called. I like that. Still, there is this creeping accusatory feeling that I cannot be useful there because I do not know enough, I have not experienced enough, I am not educated enough. I know who owns this accusatory voice though, and it helps to put my finger on what it is. 

Anyway, so I’m walking around the yard admiring the leaves and the sunlight and I see a cardinal- my mama’s favorite bird, always a reminder to her that God is near. I am with you always, that strong and comforting idea flashes across my mind. Yes, yes You are.

And then a few minutes later as I stand on the deck ready to head back inside, a large bird circles. At first I think it is a seagull- sometimes they find their way down here accidentally. But then she reveals herself: a hawk. A beautiful, free, so close I can see her belly feathers, hawk.

The last or almost last night of training, we sat in a circle outside at the Millers’ house. The evening was stunning. We each had two post-it notes, to write on one what we were leaving, and on one what we were taking with us. I don’t even remember what I left. Probably fear. But I know I wrote “the sky” on the other. “You won’t understand,” I had said, “But I understand.”

The sky. Because during listening prayer, Jesus reminded me of a poem I’d written months before, about an eagle and the sky. I’m the eagle. He’s the sky. 

Sometimes beauty answers the questions. Not with words, not even with ideas. But just a deep knowing. She is known. I am known. He knows me.