Awaiting His Arrival: From Emptied to Overflowing

poliswaterfall2

He has satisfied the hungry hearts and sent the rich away with empty hands.
Luke 1:53

For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord
    as the waters cover the sea.
Habakkuk 2:14

 

 Thou who wast rich beyond all splendour,
All for love’s sake becamest poor;
Thrones for a manger didst surrender,
Sapphire-paved courts for stable floor.
Thou who wast rich beyond all splendour,
All for love’s sake becomes poor.
~Frank Houghton

 

Breath, mouth, ears, eyes
he is curtailed who overflowed all skies,
all years. Older than eternity, now he
is new.
~Luci Shaw from “Mary’s Song”

 

Do you think you could contain Niagara Falls in a teacup?
Don’t come with a thimble when God has nothing less to give you
than the ocean of himself.
~Brennan Manning

brussels1127

Lenten Grace — Emptied and Hollow

photo by Kathy Yates
photo by Kathy Yates

Experiencing the present purely is being emptied and hollow;
you catch grace as a man fills his cup under a waterfall.
~Annie Dillard from Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

I am often unprepared for the rush of challenges each clinic day brings.  Each call, each message, each tug on my arm, each box of kleenex handed over, each look of hopelessness  —  I am emptying continuously throughout the day.  If I’m down and dry, hollowed to the core with no more left to give, I pray for more than I could possibly deserve.

And so it pours over me, torrential and flooding, and I only have a mere cup to hold out for filling.  There is far more cascading grace than I can even conceive of, far more love descending than this cup of mine could ever hold, far more hope ascending from the mist and mystery of doctoring,  over and over again.

I am never left empty for long,  grateful for a hollow hallowed.

Mended As If By Glue

photo by Josh Scholten
photo by Josh Scholten

Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The grace of God is glue.
~Eugene O’Neill

We are born hollering,
already aware
of our emptiness
from the first breath,
each tiny air sac bursting
with the air of our fallen world
that is never quite enough.

The rest of our days are spent
filling up our empty spaces
whether alveoli
or stomach
or synapse hungry for knowledge,
still hollering and heart
broken.

So we are mended
through healing another,
sewn up ourselves
by knitting together
the scraggly fragments of lives,
becoming the crucial glue
boiled from gifted Grace,
all holes made holy
when filled
so wholly.