I go outside,
and my mind expands as far as the horizon, as expansive as the sky. Boxes keep things tidy, contained, appropriately small. I think we like to keep God in a box, sized to our liking, neat and organized. Outside, I am bigger than my self. God is bigger here, too, more obvious, more mysterious. God teases me: Over here, look, listen: Do you recognize me? God blows through my body and shines on my skin, sings with the cicadas, and delights my eyes with colour and texture. I lie in the grass and want to stay forever, even when the ants tickle my legs. I am held in this moment between history and future, vultures soaring above, microbes multiplying below, living their own holy moments. No takeout box can capture the extravagant excess of this numinous experience. I can only take bits with me, in my being, not in boxes, gifts of my becoming. - Wendy Janzen
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AuthorReflections, poetry, prayers, photos, and resources written by Wendy Janzen unless otherwise noted. Archives
October 2024
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