(this was written a few many courageous days ago…)
Picking up where I left off.
Why?
I was led to believe, even if for my own therapeutic purposes, it’s worth it.
For me to embrace all that comes with my journaling, to then share online, I am asking myself to stay in the mindset of, “why not.” (Let that serve as the first disclaimer.)
Today is a gift. It started at 5:00am. Here in Mount JOY, at that hour, it’s still dark, really dark. I didn’t bound out of bed the way I used to in my younger days (yes, I am old enough to say that now <3) I did get up though. In almost every “getting-up” I first remember I can, which then leads me into gratitude. I am grateful for many, many, reasons. The top two being… number one, the pain I lived with for 20 years is no longer the first greeting to my day. For me, throughout those years, pain was always there and always fighting to steal from my minutes lived. This brings me to number two, the reality of actually having slept most of the night before. I am so glad I can now call sleep my friend. With that, I made my way to the kitchen, which wasn’t tidied up. I may have actually said out-loud “atta-girl Kara” because I was proud of my “oh well” attitude, since in most cases my slightly neurotic ways of tiding up wins. I proceeded to drink my hot lemon water, followed by getting my one cup of coffee in my “scatter joy” mug, then up I climb to my sacred space.
I love retreating to this place, a little corner in our bedroom, with a sweet and special desk. Each day I greet this space with my whole self, my heart, soul, mind and strength. It is sacred for me because while my whole self may or may not know what’s coming in the day ahead, I do know this place; this sacred space always provides breath and renews hope.
Since my mid-twenties, everywhere I have lived and all throughout my travels, both near and far, I have always been given such a place. I often find myself drawn outside. Sometimes, however, time and weather don’t lend well to that; even so, I’ll find a little corner, lit somehow, often with blanket in tow, as well as my scriptures and journal in hand. With this simple act of intention, desiring to seek my Maker, and then to pause, these sacred spaces and the time there with my Jesus indeed holds many “marking and making” memories. This morning’s precious moments started by logging charis* numbers 10,554 -- 10,562. My charis moments are the times, and sometimes things, of which I am grateful for. They are the gifts I acknowledge being born out of thanksgiving, but also enveloping completely, both grace and joy. I have practiced penning charis moments for years using unique itty-bitty books often with an itty-bitty candle lit beside me. All together, this practice of seeking my maker and sustainer, has indeed been my making, and IS my sustaining, may I always remember and never forget.
*charis (Greek) – from the root word eucharisteo, meaning “grace”
*eucharisteo (Greek) – meaning thanksgiving
*chara (Greek) – meaning joy