An Offer Of Clarity

Today I read from an Advent devotional guide by Joyce Rupp:

" We can have the best eyes in the world, but in pitch black darkness, our eyes are of little use to us. We need light in order to see our way. Advent is a season for Christ, our Light, to break through our spiritual darkness. When I consider the shadows that pervade my heart, they are usually the results of the way I see things. This seeing involves illusory notions I have of other persons, limited understandings of a situation, and unreal expectations that I foist upon others.

Sometimes my lack of seeing is due to my failure to know myself as I truly am or because my blind spots hide a part of myself from me. It always takes a while before I have the eyes to see how foolish my thoughts, feelings and actions are. I come to see more clearly when I accept the guidance and insight offered to me by the Indwelling Christ. The light of this inner guideance is essential for my spiritual growth and well being. Without this divine direction I would continually judge others falsely and unkindly.

Jesus told his disciples they were fortunate to be able to see what they did. He helped them look beyond and beneath their limited perceptions to the deeper reality of each one's goodness. Jesus continually guided his disciples by the light of his message, encouraging them to understand and accept the kingdom of love. It was up to them to follow and live out the clarity he offered to them.

~ Joyce Rupp in Welcome to the Light (emphasis added)

When I wrote the other day about my dream

"I so often try to arrange life to suit me and the hell with everyone else. A few weeks ago I had a dream where I was trying to sleep and was woken up to find a scary man trying to lure me away. In desperation, I pulled out my stand-back-and-no-one-will-get-hurt expletive and told him to "fuck off". In reply he leaned down to me and said, "It takes just as many breaths to say God bless." "

I wondered if I could ask God to bless those scary parts of me instead of trying to keep them at a distance. How often have I told my skeletons-in-the-closet-who-are-kicking-up-a-storm-to-get-out to shut the fuck up so I can have some peace and quiet? I've lost count. As if keeping them at a distance will ever bring me any peace. I've been pondering what peace could be mine if I embraced all-that-hinders-me and offered it up to the Light. Asked what it would look like to have awareness without fear of what the scary places might reveal about myself to myself. Realizing the possibility of seeing myself as I am without letting the less than stellar parts define me.

While waiting for the Light I feel like I'm a child hunkered down with my arms around my knees, facing east, waiting for the sun to crest the horizon. I do not sit alone. I've taken my shadowy side by the hand and invited it to sit with me as I wait. I'm not sure I'm ready to call it friend but I'm more at peace since it stopped trying to kick the door in to get my attention.