{"id":58,"date":"2021-05-18T15:01:00","date_gmt":"2021-05-18T14:01:00","guid":{"rendered":""},"modified":"2025-01-21T10:43:11","modified_gmt":"2025-01-21T10:43:11","slug":"be-loved-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/2021\/05\/18\/be-loved-3\/","title":{"rendered":"Be Loved 3"},"content":{"rendered":"

I often catch myself thinking about John the beloved. I wonder at the ease with which he carried himself. The way his body radiated rest. <\/span><\/p>\n

I wonder if my body knows that we are beloved<\/span>. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

My soundtrack as I ponder these things is Gladys Knight accompanied by the Pips singing:<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

“Loving you is easy cos you’re beautiful…<\/span> “<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

It’s my kitchen worship. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

John’s challenge to me to re-imagine what it would look like to gather as those-who-are-beloved is never far from my mind. His words about union, and allelon, and being <\/span>oneanother,<\/span> are stirring in my belly. It’s like I’ve swallowed bees. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I am listening, and whispering this ancient prayer:<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Let the dawning day bring me revelation of your tender, unfailing love. Give me light for my path and teach me, for I trust in you.<\/span> Ps 143.8<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Lockdown has stirred the bottom of the lake for many of us. We watch as debris and forgotten dreams float to the surface. 2021 was a strange turning. I remember the morning of New Year’s day. I was cleaning up the remains of the previous night’s second tea. It’s how we rolled through lockdown. Literally. It could be monotonous, but I found the kitchen to be a thin place. My husband was in the next room preparing lessons for the back-to-work we thought was looming. His typing and playlist were the soundtrack to my chores.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I was contemplating how deep a clean I cared to do, when a lyric floated from the study toward me and crunched my gut:<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I’m tired of weakness<\/span><\/p>\n

Tired of my feet of clay<\/span><\/p>\n

Tired of days to come<\/span><\/p>\n

Tired of yesterday<\/span><\/p>\n

And all the worn-out things I ever say<\/span><\/p>\n

Now it’s much too late<\/span><\/p>\n

The words stay in my head. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I’m tired of Facebook,<\/span><\/p>\n

Tired of my failing health,<\/span><\/p>\n

I’m tired of everyone<\/span><\/p>\n

And that includes myself<\/span><\/p>\n

Well being alone now<\/span><\/p>\n

It doesn’t bother me<\/span><\/p>\n

But not knowing if you are<\/span><\/p>\n

That’s been hell you see.*<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I remember finding myself weeping. I’d been hearing from many who were in exile from the life they gave themselves to. Outcasts. They sowed youth and passion in worship to the One they heard whisper their name. They built their life around rumours of who He was, and what was required of them by the houses that bore His name. And they were so very tired. The song called me into fellowship, and it hurt. I wanted to find Sister Wisdom, and I wanted to know what to do. She was quiet. The song continued:<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

So the day will begin again,<\/span><\/p>\n

Take comfort from me<\/span><\/p>\n

It’s up to you now<\/span><\/p>\n

you’re still here and you’ll begin again<\/span><\/p>\n

That’s comfort to you<\/span><\/p>\n

It’s up to you now<\/span><\/p>\n

So pariah you’ll begin again<\/span><\/p>\n

Take comfort from me<\/span><\/p>\n

And I will take comfort from you.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The day will begin again<\/span> is not always a comfort. <\/span>It’s up to you now<\/span> is not always an invitation to adventure. <\/span>Taking comfort from each other <\/span>has oil on it only if it’s real. New Year’s day 2021. I wanted to know what could begin again before I invited anyone else into that beginning. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I’m hoping that the bees in my belly will propel me past the wariness I feel. I’m hoping that John keeps stirring them with his words and his atmosphere. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

At night in the hours of waiting for the embrace of sleep I often lay my hands on my stomach like I did when life was nestled in the cradle of my pelvis: <\/span>Let me be stirred. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Give me light for my path and teach me<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

2021 will unfold around me whether I join in or not. I want to participate in the unfolding. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I’m reading these words in my journal as the daffodils begin peeking through the soil. The first quarter of 2021 has been a runaway train. Last night when I whispered: <\/span>give me light for my path <\/span>the whisper came in response: <\/span>get up! Let’s fellowship. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

John! Curiosity pulls me out of my warm bed, and I fumble for my glasses and a hot water bottle so I can go downstairs for grey fuzzy conversation. Curled up with a blanket on the sofa I offer my blurry hello.  <\/span>Hey<\/span> he says, and <\/span>Thank you.<\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I meet his greeting with a smile. I’m so glad for the company- even in the wee smalls. There’s loads I want to say to give voice to the aching and wondering inside. I don’t know where to begin, but before I begin he holds up his hand, index finger pointing upwards and says: <\/span>first things first, always. <\/span>I remember that I am seen. I breathe deeply in the silence, gathering myself so I can really listen. He watches me kindly, then leans in:<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I hear your prayer “give me light for my path and teach me”. But…<\/span><\/p>\n

And there’s that finger again<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2026..tender unfailing love comes first. Always. Out of rest we wake as beloved, and to the lover we say “teach me”.  If every dawn you expect to experience the sweetness of love, you are ready to be taught, and trust will grow.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Tender. There’s something in the word that meets the ache in me: the tenderness of my bruised self met by the tenderness of Their deep love. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I want to talk with John about the loss and longing that hangs in the air like a wet blanket. It’s so heavy that I can’t find my words. Again, he holds up his hand, index finger extended upwards and I laugh and say: <\/span>first things first. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

John laughs, then lowers his finger to point at me, saying:<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

You. The 3 see you knowing in part. They lean in to kiss your efforts and honour your intention. They wash your feet – cleaning off the dust that weighs you down and spreads wherever you go. They hold you in allelon love first, and love is a great teacher. Only then can you extend allelon love to every fellow traveller, even if they too are reading it wonky. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Alellon love is greeting the other with the same holy kiss you received. A kiss of affection and blessing. Take time to see them.  In seeing them you make them visible to others. Honour the gold in them, and hold them before the 3 after you’ve left them. Allelon love is remarkable. It’s for you and from you. This is all they need in order to begin again: to be loved. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Tiredness. Yes. But the lame will walk again, the lakes will be crystal clear, and the dead will be raised to newness of life because that’s what They do. To them:<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

He sings in a terrible falsetto:<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Loving you is easy cos you’re beautiful\u2026 <\/span><\/p>\n

do do do do do do do \u2026.. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I’m ready to laugh but hiccup instead, waking the dog and potentially the household. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I move to quieten the dog and notice the shift from deep night to early dawn. <\/span>The day will begin again.<\/span> John stands too, and we embrace. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The ground shakes and structures crumble. Love does this for you. You should find yourself in unfamiliar landscapes. Remember Abraham and don’t look back. Pack your bag full of allelon love. and the journeying will be sweeter. If you let the shaking do it’s full work in you, and in others, the rebuilding will be more about kisses than concrete. Wait. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

He holds my head in two hands and kisses my forehead. As I climb my stairs I resolve to wait for the kiss before I get up, before I reach for my phone, and to carry a benediction in my heart ready for every face I see. <\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

It’s up to me now. <\/span><\/p>\n


<\/span><\/p>\n

*Pariah: Steve Wilson.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I often catch myself thinking about John the beloved. I wonder at the ease with which he carried himself. The way his body radiated rest.  I wonder if my body knows that we are beloved.  My soundtrack as I ponder these things is Gladys Knight accompanied by the Pips singing: “Loving you is easy cos […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_crdt_document":"","_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-58","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorised"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/58","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=58"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/58\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":97,"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/58\/revisions\/97"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=58"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=58"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/agoodknowing.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=58"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}