What is Hidden

The email prompt this morning for my online journey through Advent urged me to wake up early one day this week.

Um.

That’s not going to happen. Ever. I really, really like my sleep and I’m not a morning person. Instead of noticing the day break, I think I’ll take one day to watch the sun set. To really watch it set and notice what end might lead to a new beginning.

This morning, I started my day in my studio. I’m painting a prayer. I’ve been painting this prayer for over a month now. I’m not ready to share it yet but I can tell you my language of circles repeats itself over and over again. I’m not sure what it says about me or where it leading but it never feels done. There’s still more to add to this prayer. Or that’s the way it feels. It feels like I’m trying to uncover something. Something hidden. I just can’t quite find it. I want to think that it’s my road.  It’s my way through as Jan Richardson describes the journey into Advent 2.  Of course, that means I have to let go. I have to give up. I have to admit that the answer might not be my own. My heart breaks open when I hear those words in Matthew 3:1-12:

Repent, for the kingdom of God has come near.

It’s close. It’s so close that I should be able to see it. But, I can’t. It’s not clear to me.  I want it.  I want it so much but I only seem to find its opposite. It’s funny actually because I can tell others about it. Last night, I sat with members of our church to pray in color. I taught them my prayer practice. I was so nervous doing so. It’s scary to share something so personal and sacred, but we did.  I did.  When marks were on the page and we talked about what we saw, I could offer that assurance to others. I just can’t seem to offer it to myself.  Funny how that happens.  I guess that’s why there needs to be more paint. I’m not sure if the paper can hold the layers of my prayer but I’m willing to risk the possibility of trying to open myself to God’s realm. Maybe it’s in the paint.  Maybe it’s in the conversation. Maybe I just need to walk away and watch the sun set. Maybe then I’ll know what is hidden.