Burnt up, not Burnt out

I cherish the hope that one day Thou wilt swoop down upon me and carry me up until I am lost, a willing victim, in the fiery heart of the furnace of Love. ~ St. Therese of Lisieux

A friend of ours would often remark when times were tough that, “I’m being burnt up, not burnt out.” This made a great deal of sense then, and now. We worked together in a place where, in one department, our coworkers got burnt out and moved onto either other jobs, or other careers. While we missed these dear ones, we understood the need to move on. Every now and again I experience the longing for such times, working with this eclectic group of people, coworkers all in the hopes of sharing in the lives of the people we served.

By my bed is a slightly faded Valentine card, the music that once brought a smile to my lips now silenced by time, and a dead battery. When looking at who signed the card I smiled with gratitude. I remember getting this card, the smile of the guy who gave it to me. The card is a little bit of encouragement, and grace.

Mary deTurris Poust posted a meme saying, “When you’re in a dark place you sometimes tend to think you’ve been buried. Perhaps you’ve been planted. Bloom.” I reposted this with memories of winter and early spring 2018 and that dark, desolate place. Late spring a conversation with my Sweetie, and a shift in the what I’m doing daily made a huge difference. There were, and still on-going conversations with friends as there is always “work” to be done. A good friend was experiencing the same dark place and is on the other side of that now. A big shift in her life experience.

When reading the quote from St. Therese of the furnace of love, and remembered my friend saying that she was being “burnt up” not “burnt out” my heart remembered the beauty of being loved by God. The more we let God’s love in, the more the parts of who we are trying to hide from him are exposed to the fire of His Love, His Mercy, the more we are transformed. The more I am transformed, the more I can say this life isn’t so much about me, but how much I get to love you.

I’m grateful for the things being in this dark place showed me, and how it’s affirmed in such cool ways. God-incidences. In one way I had the “take all the quilting out” experience of Moon Over Manhattan. I didn’t need to rip out all the quilting, I could have started over however ripping out exemplified something deep for me that I wish I had the words to explain. In one way I do:

In one way this post seems a little disjointed, in a way this is true. It is a bit…however I can see how they’re all connected through the gift of faith, the talent of quilting, the need for light and dark, and death (to self) and to growth. To giving over to the Love of God. It’s like a patchwork quilt that while you’re working on it seems so difficult and yet when it’s done, there is great beauty, passion poured forth.

I’ve declared today a writing day.

God bless,

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