Embracing Emptiness

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Yesterday, I decided to buy Ann Voskamp’s book, One Thousand Gifts. This decision was an act of desperation; one spurred by five days of post wedding blues. You know the kind, those uncomfortable times of silence and soul ache that occur after being surrounded by family and friends in a festive atmosphere.

Yesterday, my mother mentioned how much our cousin was enjoying Ann’s book. “Donna said that she reads a few pages and then sets in down and cries.”

Those must be good tears. I hoped. Maybe even tears that wash away loneliness of soul.

So last night, I bought the book at Barnes and Nobles and brought it home.

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This morning I finger the soft crème pages and notice how the content comes quickly. No introduction but just an acknowledgement:

“For the Farmer,

who tended and grew my soul.”

The page blurs, even though I haven’t yet read enough to put the book down and cry. I find myself hoping the Farmer will grow my soul, if I embrace this indescribable emptiness and longing I feel inside. I turn the page.

Chapter 1

an emptier, fuller life

 

“Every sin is an attempt to fly from emptiness.”

Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace

The quote stops me from reading further. I decide I must spend a lifetime pondering these words. The lens through which I see those times of separation from my Savior changes color to an iridescent blue, the kind of blue you see when gazing into your reflection in a crisp mountain stream. My heart quickens and my mind swirls.

A couple of days ago, I finished a mixed media piece that today I loathe. The end product agitates me for many reasons. My initial message morphed into how I really felt and I didn’t like it. I began with this:

Sweet peace awaken the dawn

And shake dew off my folded feathers

Readied for flight

But I wasn’t ready for flight. I wanted to soar, but my soul felt bottled up, contained, and forced to sit in emptiness. I found myself fashioning the bird into a bottle. It was as if someone kept turning up the heat until my depression boiled. I wanted to shatter the bottle and escape, but I couldn’t.

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A portion of the paper used is "Pure Joy" Art-to-Borrow by Rachel Emilie Jackson

Then this morning as I read, and re-read, Simone Weil’s quote…

“Every sin is an attempt to fly from emptiness.”

my bottled up soul finally bursts forth and forms feelings into words.

A fast from fulfillment for five days

Depression not of my choosing

Drives me deeper towards Him

In search of relief from this pain

Wings of soul once batting the inside of the bottle now calm. I sit and embrace the burn, the emptiness, the hollowness of soul. I read a few more pages of Ann’s book, set the book down, and weep.

 

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