Digging Into Deeper Soil

When I was younger I was a mud pie girl, prone to stay in our yard and dig in the dirt sequestered away in my own little world. One of the best parts of the experience was finding rocks that had been tightly lodged in the ground, trying my best to loosen their grip, and to liberate them from their secure position. Once I completed the task I would turn them over and often discover all kinds of squirmy creepy crawly inhabitants whose habitat I had disturbed. Though slightly grossed out by the bugs, I often took note that the soil underneath was much richer than the top soil and had the most fragrant smell.

Yesterday a Sister from my church pulled me aside to encourage me about my writing. I have written several pieces that the congregation has read and she shared that she had been wanting to talk to me about it for sometime. She described the dominant theme in my writing as she understood it as me saying to my readers, “I have suffered and I have survived.” She went on to say, “Reverend Charisse you have been in the dark and now you can shine the light in the dark where so many are and show us what else is there.”  Her words encouraged me. Her words inspired me. Her words were strength to me, strength I did not know I needed at the time.

I started this blog to help me write more faithfully, but also to share my story of the woman I have been and the woman I am becoming with the hopes that my story would resonate in someone else’s. My story is not always pretty. It is not all simple. It’s not even necessarily profound all the time, but what it is is mine. It’s my story of becoming. It’s my reflection and insight on the internal regions of my soul. It is my own bearing witness that my life can be complicated because, as a friend of mine often says, people are complicated. People of faith are no different. 

My faith journey has had many similarities to my early mud pie girl days. I am one who is drawn to the underbelly of my walk with God. Though I have often been disturbed by those things that have crawled out from under tightly lodged objects in my own soul, I have also discovered that the soil of my faith in those places have been much more rich and fragrant. It is my hope as I continue to write, to blog, to think out loud that somehow my story of becoming will be an encouraging companion as you become as well.

My friend, grab your tools. Find a good place to sit. Wear gloves if you need to, but I find the soil feels best rolling over uncovered fingers. Now… let’s dig.

Ugly Before the Bloom

Some time ago I was visiting with a friend and commented on a gorgeous tree in the backyard of her new home. Actually the tree itself looks somewhat strange. The branches remind me of a cross between a small weeping willow and the tree that my great grandmamma would get switches off of when we were little just in case we had a bout of disobedience that needed some tending. But what caught my eye on the tree was its brilliant purple blooms that seem to explode like sunburst from every single limb. 

As I looked outside the tree’s blooms seemed particularly vibrant. Knowing that she loves the color purple I mentioned to her that it was wonderful that God gave her a beautiful home and even planted a purple tree in her back yard. She then told me that the tree almost did not make the cut. In fact, a friend advised her to cut it down. Puzzled and somewhat horrified (simply because I am prone to melodrama) I exclaimed “Why???” Her response, “Because it was an ugly tree before it bloomed.” In an instant I heard God.

Ugly before the bloom… I have continued to wonder what things in my life have I been quick to cut down or cut out because I stumbled across it in its ugly season?  What opportunities, what situations, what relationships have I taken an ax to because it simply seemed like it was a strange tree with windy limbs that did nothing but take up space, drain nutrients, and demand my attention in ways that didn’t  seem to provide any immediate benefits? The reality is that some things need cutting down and cutting out. Some trees need uprooting and removing, but maybe the word to me through the ugly tree in my friend’s yard is that I should wait to see what surprises lay in the bowels of these circumstances/situations before excavating them from my life. Maybe the encouragement from the tree is the reminder that some ugly things don’t stay ugly forever. In fact, if I have the patience to wait for the blooming season I might even find myself amazed at the gift that was right under my nose all along!