REGRETS & WILD YEARNINGS

I can actually feel the presence of my soul these days. Like the little quick kicks of a baby nestled in the womb, letting a mother know the time is coming soon, when this child will want out.

It is like a giant yawn. Like stretching from head to toe after having sat still for much too long. It is like laying on a hillside as a child, when we so wanted to reach out and touch the quick scudding clouds.

It feels like I am ready to explode, or erupt, or go into labor. There is a painful ache to it all. There is real work involved. This will not be easy.

I want my soul back. I want to be true to being the person God created me to be. I want to be authentic. I want to live my truth. I want to mean what I say, and say what I mean. I want to stop telling or living a lie.

I have a wild desire to come clean. I want to scrub off all the grit and grime of trying to impress the world. I want to be baptized in boiling water. Cauterized. Free of all the germs of greed and guilt. I just want to embrace my remaining time. I want to squeeze it dry of all its joyous juices.

I hear so many retired folks, old folks, telling one another they have no regrets. Are they nuts? How can you not have any regrets? I have a bunch of regrets. A bouquet of weeds. 

I regret the days spent planning my days. I regret worrying incessantly about my poll numbers. I regret the years of seeking to be perfect. I regret all the damn excuses for not loving, or forgiving, or believing. I regret being a lousy husband, father, friend, pastor, and person – way too much of the time. I regret running away from Death, rather than inviting it in, and listening to what it had to say. Most of all, I regret treating my body so badly.

Yup, my soul has become an overgrown mess of a garden. I have a lot of weeding to do in there. It’s time to get my hands dirty.