Laurie Klein, Scribe

immerse in God, emerge refreshed

  • About
  • Books
  • Blog
    • Small Wonders
    • Soul Mimosas
    • Springboards
    • Wellsprings
    • BiblioDiva
  • Reveries
  • Links
  • Contact
  • Press Kit
  • Playlist

Weight and Wait: More than a Homonym

by Laurie Klein 19 Chiming In

 

It starts with a nudge.

A trusted friend, moved to pray for me, did so. A single word came into his mind. No explanation.

Wait or weight? he wondered.

Another listening pause. Both, he thought.

Soon afterward, his email lights up my inbox. I feel like a glass tube holding noble gas — stirred by a steady glow within and aware of humming, spiritual voltage: a prayer akin to neon.

I feel seen.

I’ve been awaiting someone’s decision. Unsure how to proceed, I’ve let the weight of not knowing siphon away my joy.

My friend pledges to “pray for the weight of glory to be revealed in and through [me].”

Times of waiting — so common in crises, relationships, and big projects—can short-circuit our outlook. Song, meditation, prayer, the Word — we flick our go-to switches yet often fail to discern what’s next.

An aspect of life as we’ve known it sputters and dims.

Perhaps God will generate something new?

You will have heard about the mythic firebird, the phoenix that rises from the ashes, soaring to new life.

Have you heard of “Phoenix regeneration”? It’s the final stage in a tree’s lifecycle.

A time to wait

According to arborist William Bryant Logan, when roots atrophy, water stutters through trunk and limbs. Eventually depleted, the tree surrenders its crown first. Ninety-some feet or more of a once-vibrant life topples.

But afterward . . . little images of itself may sprout from the lower trunk or even from the root flare, wherever a living connection between root and branch survives.

Does this rejuvenation suggest grace, incognito?

If new rootlets take hold, traces of the original tree will reemerge. You could almost call it immortal. Arborist Logan does, then goes on:

It is as though a person rested her arm on the dirt, spread out her palm, and two perfect new arms emerged from her lifeline, complete with all the muscles and tendons and circulation, the hands, palms, fingers, and fingernails.

O the Good Spirit loves an inside job.

Meanwhile, we really can shrug off the weight of having to perform. The gradual outworking of God’s holy perfection, already indwelling our souls, will reproduce traces of God’s nature in and through us.

In other words, be of good courage. No matter the present weight, wait. Providence will appear.

As if to underline the point: yesterday a sparrow careened into our window, then plummeted to our front step, seemingly dazed. Those bright eyes blinked, but the body, still standing, albeit hunched and ruffled, seemed paralyzed.

En route to church, we tiptoed past her, sharply recalling God’s eye rests with love on every creature. Surely she’d be gone by the time we returned, having regathered her strength.

Home we came. She’d moved several inches to the right, her downy head now leaning into a dead leaf. Would she keel over?

Dazed, and oh, the weight of waiting to fly

I brought birdseed and water, prayed she would rise. I wanted so badly to stroke her soft back, but caution checked my impulse.

Often it’s best to forgo interrupting what we don’t understand.

Maybe you or someone you love feels like that downed bird: stalled out, too shocked to regroup. May I pray?

Lord of All, restore and renew each person reading these words, wherever they feel depleted, uprooted, or fallen. Comfort them. Deepen their hope amidst the unknowns, even as you prepare their upward trajectory. Amen.

A tree. A bird. A God of Light who loves the living back into motion, by stages.

lauriekleinscribe logo

How do you cope with the weight of waiting? I hope you’ll share with us . . .

With thanks to Maria Popova, of The Marginalian (formerly Brain Pickings)

Quotations taken from Old Growth — selected poems and essays from Orion Magazine, including pieces by Ursula K. Le Guin, Michael Pollan, and others.

Photo of clock between tree trunks by Yaniv Knobel on Unsplash

Photo of sparrow by yours truly

You might also enjoy this post from the archives: Waiting Grace, Hearts on Ice

Filed Under: Immersions Tagged With: grace incognito, phoenix regeneration, sparrow, Time, trees, wait, weight June 27, 2023

Dream House, Take 2

by Laurie Klein 48 Chiming In

Dream House.

Chef heaven. Double ovens, gas range, gorgeous granite countertop—I picture myself ladling out gourmet soup. And if I drop a bowl? No problem. Cork flooring cushions all.

The place is perfect. One-level living, spacious rooms, views of naturalized parkland—we LOVE it! Seizing Dreamer’s hand, I pray aloud, “If this is our house, Lord, hold it for us.”

Next morning, while signing our bid I recognize the owners’ names. Long ago we attended church together.

God must want this for us.

All night I alternate between “Don’t count your chickens” and mentally furnishing every last room.

Come morning, we send the owners a winsome personal letter and our bid—15 K over list price.

God loves us, so things will go well. Right?

Turns out other bids have preceded ours. All day we hope our old friends will choose us.

Nope.

Therapy Option #1: Write

(To the tune of “Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow”)

The Real Estate Song, or Let It Go, Let It Go, Let It Go

     with apologies to Jule Styne and Sammy Cahn

Oh, the bidding wars sure are frightful,
And the dream house so delightful.
Our offer turned out too low . . .
Let it go, let it go, let it go.

Well, the market is really hoppin’,
And it shows no signs of stoppin’.
I wish we had lots more dough . . .
Let it go, let it go, let it go.

It’s no wonder I sit here cryin’
As our hopes are slowly dying,
But today’s nearly through and so . . .
Let it go, let it go, let it go.

Meanwhile, back at the rancher

I pray.
And pace.
Grieve.
And growl.

Mostly growl.

Therapy Option #2: Bake

Anger spits and sizzles in me like a downed power line. I was so sure the house was meant to be ours. I imagined Dreamer’s faith being renewed in the process of buying the dream house.

Heat works its way up my throat. A hard lump. I swallow it down.

In my one-butt kitchen with its erupting linoleum and elderly laminate counters, I mix cookie dough. Granite and cork are overrated. So are kitchen fans. Around me the air congeals, laden with sugar and fat. I breathe it in. Maybe it will sweeten my thoughts.

Nope.

I slip cookies onto the rack to cool. This, I can control. Unlike crushing dismay.

I am breaking my heart over a house, looking behind me with longing. Like Lot’s wife.

Tears come, briny and fast.

As do reminders of mercy.

No brimstone. No judgment.

Relief, finally, is remembering God is good. And always, always worthy of trust.

Then believing it. Slow work, sometimes.

My knee goes down, my gaze lifts.

I have a goofy song.
Fresh cookies.
And Time.

I eat 6 cookies, still warm and gooey, taste the sweetness, a promise of things to come …

lauriekleinscribe logo

UPDATE: Friends, thank you for your prayers! Parkinson’s has been ruled out. Dreamer recently underwent a brain MRI and will have an EMG on Dec. 21. He’ll consult with an M.D. specialist sometime in the New Year. Both our daughters are also experiencing acute physical challenges, including surgery in December. I’m learning a lot about grace.

We’re dialing back the moving process, for now.

Catch up on our story here.

Photo by Jamie Strett for Unsplash.

Filed Under: Immersions Tagged With: anger, cookies, disappointment, dream house, let it go, Time November 20, 2018

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • RSS

Subscribe

Please enter your email address below to receive emails from Laurie twice a month.

Your information is safe with me. I will never spam you. Read my privacy policy here.

Hi, I’m Laurie.

  • Scribe for wonder
  • Contemplative author/artist
  • Reader/performer/speaker
  • Imagination maven
  • Biblio*Diva
  • Expert on chocolate raisins
  • Click here to read more.

House of 49 Doors: Entries in a Life

House of 49 Doors: Entries in a Life
Buy This Book Online
Buy from Amazon
House of 49 Doors: Entries in a Life
Buy now!

Where the Sky Opens, a Partial Cosmography

Where the Sky Opens, a Partial Cosmography
Buy This Book Online
Buy from Amazon
Where the Sky Opens, a Partial Cosmography
Buy now!

Recent Posts

  • Runaway
  • Wholehearted Lent
  • Listening to You Breathe
  • Epiphany
  • Black Sheep: Between Noels, Part IV

Categories

  • BiblioDiva
  • Immersions
  • Small Wonders
  • Soul Mimosas
  • Springboards
  • Wellsprings

Tags

adoption adventure attention Beauty blessing Blues change chosen contemplative delight disappointment disconnect double-take emergence feast Gift grace gratitude hope joy largesse light longing love Magi music nest pain peace pearls possibility prayer Risk shelf life soundings space star surrender Time transformation truth waiting wonder worry yes

Copyright © 2025 Laurie Klein, Scribe Laurie Klein, Scribe All Rights Reserved Laurie Klein, Scribe Privacy Policy