Further Into Your Heart, O Lord

Just back from a women's overnight event with Antioch women. It was unbelievably bursting with grace and newfound love. An incredible spiritual, emotional, relational top-up. A weekend of nonstop a-ha moments and eye-openers.

On the train to King's Cross-St Pancras, I was clutching my handbag and was suddenly struck by a tremendous, overwhelming thought: For the first time in many years, I was alone, by myself, on my way to a place I'd never been. No pushchair, no baby bag, no nappies, no milk-stained jacket or crumb-covered sleeves to define me. I was no one's wife or mother, no one's daughter or friend. I was just, well, me.

The thought petrified me for a timeless minute. I mutely rummaged around in my thoughts, digging deep into the depths of my soul, searching for the Old Me, fingers fumbling, groping around as if for a missing paperclip in the bottom of a very cluttered purse. Where are you? Is this you? What about this? Or this? Where IS that dratted girl?, I asked vexedly.

I was looking for the Old Me, a fearless, adventurous traveler and explorer, who was perfectly at home in her own skin, alone but never lonely, enjoying good company but never needing it to complete the joy of her journey. And after those first earth-shattering minutes, I can gleefully report that I found her. After all those years, she's back. With a vengeance, I might add.

And just imagine, all this was just on the trip to the event itself!

Met up with newly-found mate Joyce at King's Cross and both of us lamented, almost at the same time, that we had very conveniently forgotten our own cameras and had been hoping the other would somehow remember to bring hers. Alas, our common wavelength resulted in common memory loss and trounced us this time. No matter. Maybe we were meant to savour the weekend by BEING THERE instead of busily taking snapshots to reminisce over later.

The talks were nothing I hadn't heard before: God's personal love for me, Loving one another, Loving others enough to bring them the good news... But somehow, they cut me to the heart, moving me to fall in love with the Lord all over again, inspiring me to put aside my lame excuses about talking to the other mums in school about God, giving me spiritual eyes as I looked into my new sisters' faces and saw them, not as they are now, but as they will be, as God is making them. And I felt a sudden rush of profound love for these women, all of whom I had never met a year ago, but who were now faces of God's love for me here, in this foreign place. Beautiful faces, all of them.

I remember a plaque in the chapel where Antioch meets: "In this house are no strangers, only friends we do not know." It comforts me and convinces me even more that this is where I am supposed to be. God knew the tentpegs of my heart had grown too comfy where they had been. I was then in a place where I was known and loved, and where I never had to reach out or reveal myself to people I'd never met. And He said, High time for a stretch, RiverPilgrim, and did just that by bringing me here. Where I have to step out of my skin, my comfort zone, and know and be known all over again. Can be exhausting at times, but I know in my gut that all this stretching is enlarging my territory, extending my borders, widening my perspective. For good. Always, for good. I really thank God for all He has been doing in my life. What would I do without Him? Where would I go? How would I live? How would I love?

As if all these weren't enough, I've been given another bonus, as well: During one of our times of prayer, an idea for a character popped into my head and was so real, she almost walked bodily into the room. Overnight, the few scattered images and concepts she brought into my head quickly snowballed into enough material for a short story, then for a novelette, then for a children's book, then for a trilogy! All on 4-5 back-to-back pages of hastily scribbled notes which kept me writing furiously till 1 am.

Only three people on this planet know my heroine's name (starts with a D, but that's all you're gonna get from me, sorry) and parts of her story, and I'll need to really remind myself to keep a lid on things while the story plays itself out in my head. And I think, well, even if it never gets published, it will be fun to write fiction. For the first time ever, too.