Connected

I’m reading The Love that Split the World by Emily Henry. It is a teen fiction book, and in the beginning, I encountered a quote that has really resonated with me”

“God is a thing I think I see in glimmers all over: an enormous and vague warmth I sometimes catch pulsing around me, giving me shivers and making tears prick my eyes; a mysterious and limitless Thing threaded through all the world and refusing to be reduced to a name or a set of rules and instead winding itself through millions of stories, true and made up, connecting all breathing things.”

I love so much about this.

Glimmers are something I wrote about a while ago; they're very similar to triggers, but instead of negative emotions, they're sparks of positive emotions. And the feeling I get when I believe I’m in a direct encounter with God is an indescribable emotion, but certainly a positive one.

As Henry says, God is threaded through all the world and refuses to be reduced to a name or a set of rules. Those moments of encounter surpass emotional explanation; trying to do so feels like it greatly diminishes the profundity of what occurred. Like showing people the sunset photos you took at the beach and realizing the phone does so little in capturing the true beauty of the sky’s colors.

But something is going on, because my body reacts with shivers and tears in my eyes, as Henry describes.

This passage reminds me of Barbara Brown Taylor’s book An Alter in the World. This book remains one of the few I’ll reread, continually offering something new each time I read it. In a chapter about Reverence, Taylor says, “Regarded properly, anything can become a sacrament, by which I mean an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual connection.” I do think God is enormous and vague, as Henry says. He’s within everything, but it takes a moment of pause to see Him in what may first appear normal and mundane. When regarded properly, as Taylor says, which she elaborates in another part of the chapter, “the exercise of reverence generally includes knowing your rank in the overall scheme of things.”

This year, my family has tried growing cucumbers and strawberries. I’ve wanted to try planting our own fruits and veggies for a while, but we don’t have a good spot in our yard that gets enough sun. My parents were getting rid of a couple of planters at the beginning of summer, so we snagged them and found the one tiny spot I thought might get just enough sun.

We went to Home Depot, and I bought already growing cucumbers and strawberries. I planted them, and my oldest son has helped me make sure they get enough water each day. And they have been utterly spectacular to watch grow. Aside from a little guidance to grow up the trellis, the cucumber plant has, on its own, shot out tendrils to wrap around the trellis and keep it stable as it continues to grow. The yellow flowers jutting out as a cucumber slowly forms and takes shape. And our strawberry plant has attempted to multiply itself by sending offshoots that try to take root in the soil. My role in this is quite minimal, and to see the inherent traits of these plants is utterly spectacular. I have no way of avoiding the fact that these plants are living, breathing, and rather brilliant.

I feel God winding and connecting all living things. And I’m in awe. My skin shivers and tears prick my eyes. And with newfound awareness, I look across my yard and see just how intimate and beautifully complex so many things are around me. The trees that flourish and rest in correspondence to the sunlight they receive; the flowers that shift throughout the day to catch the most sunlight; the river rocks that glisten when wet with water, and you can see how they were made for their natural habitat by their humble beauty; the spiders that build complex webs and seem to understand when I ask them to shift some so I don’t hit them with water when I tend to my plants; in the conversations I can hear between the birds and the squirels I see that I’m convinced are playing a game of tag; in the multitude of emotional waves that are there to ride from the chaotic, but spectaular whirlwind that is my two sons.

I’m reminded of Job 12: 7-10,

“But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.”

Anything, when regarded properly, can become a sacrament. As my skin continues to shiver and tears continue to prick my eyes. It’s a loop I don’t mind being stuck in. Because the mundane around me takes on an intoxicating glow as the beauty, miraculousness, and sacredness become alive and I’m connected to them.