My name is Jeanne.

Have you ever noticed– or perhaps you’re not at all like me– that once you finally get an idea… nebulous, broad, and disobliging as they so often are… down through the tip of your pen onto paper in the form of letters and spaces, it often isn’t at all what you meant it to be?  Especially those huge, world-shaking thoughts… the grander the revelation, the harder it is to fit it into lines on a page, or even words to be spoken.

That is rather how I feel when coming to write something of myself.  Not that the subject is a “grand” one… but rather, that when I go to describe myself in this sort of way, I find the me on paper isn’t me.  Not really.  And as I go on, growing older by the day, I keep finding I don’t really know who that me is today, even if I got the description almost right yesterday.

I am dazzled by the gospel, by the glory of God, and everywhere I see the cruelty of death and the anticipation the creation waits in for the revelation of His children as they will be– when we see Him as He is, and will be like Him.  Until then, we, humble vessels made of earth, hold this treasure.

I’m trying to figure out the living-out of this truth.  I know it means love.  But somehow, it’s still a mystery to me.  What does the eternal look like when it touches the temporal?  Like Jesus, yes… but what do I look like when I look like Jesus?  I have the feeling that it means something like marrying lofty art with washing dishes….  Or rather, seeing beauty in art and beauty in washing those dishes.  Or sharing beauty, whether by painting a masterpiece or writing a masterful piece of prose, or cooking a meal and washing up.

The infinite coming down and infusing the finite.  What a mystery.

Forgive my rambling.  Tomorrow I’ll likely come by and realize, I may have gotten it almost right now, but not in time for it to be right at all then….


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