My advanced English student is taking an English Lit. course at university, and wanted me to help her get ready for her Medieval English exam. I always dreamed of studying Lit. and teaching it at high school or college level, but I never had or took the opportunity. It’s something I’m sometimes sad about.

So when she handed me the anthology she’s studying, and wanted me to read some pieces to her, I was in new, deep water. On her study list was Beowulf, Chaucer, and Shakespeare. I’d never read any of them, only heard about them. My student friend wanted practice in listening, so I read aloud, starting with Beowulf.

Recently, I’ve felt starved for words that live, that speak relevance and life to me. So much of what is being written now is clap-trap and trite, canned and smooth, without the grip of something solid for me to hold onto. Not that it’s not speaking to someone else out there, but somehow I need something more.

I started reading the first lines, stumbling over the foreign-sounding, archaic words as gracefully as possible, and came to this line:

…the Lord endowed him,
the Wielder of Wonder, with world’s renown.

So it’s talking about Beowulf, the heir, the son in his halls to ‘favor the folk’ and the alliteration is lovely, but instantly I knew I’d found the rich words I’d been aching for, and who they describe for me: my God, the Wielder of Wonder. The words took my breath away, the alliteration and simplicity and depth.

This week a mentor asked me to think about what God was up to during a particularly puzzling time. So I’ve been thinking about what God was doing, and how patient and solid and persistent He was and is. The phrase from Beowulf, “Wielder of Wonder,” put into words what I hadn’t grasped yet. I can’t fully explain why the words touched me so deeply, why I found them so rich and meaningful, but there they are, because I wanted to share them in case someone else is starved for beautiful words.

Last week something funny happened. It wasn’t funny in a humorous way but in a strange or puzzling way. For the first time, I saw the faces of men whose voices I knew, and it baffled/bamboozled/confused me so much I could hardly watch. I felt most comfortable when I looked out the window and only listened to their voices instead of watched them talk.

It was my problem, not theirs. I’d spent hours listening to lectures by Paul David Tripp and David Powlison and very much like their approach to Christian counseling and how heart change happens in the Redeemer’s hands. Now, after the courses are over, I still often listen to the lectures on my walks. I recognize their pet words like ‘helicopter view’ and that God is ‘up to something good’ and ‘redemption’ and ‘significant life experience’ and ‘vignette.’

But in the listening, I’d formed an idea of how the men look, and when I saw videos of them, they didn’t look anything like what I’d thought! They’re not ugly or bad looking, but just not what I imagined and it messed with my mind.

Some readers of my book have written me that they wonder how I look. I like to keep it a mystery. Maybe it’s a control thing. Could be.

Anyhow, I wonder how it will be how it will be when I see God. I read His words and hear His spirit in my spirit, and feel I know Him and what He likes and wants in the limited way that the finite can understand Infinity. But how will it be when I see His face? I like to think that I’ll recognize Him. I like to think that I’ll know His face because I know His sons and daughters who resemble Him. Maybe it will stun me, but I don’t think it will be puzzling because in that moment, I will know Him as well as He knows me now.

It hit me broadside: the blinding question of who I am, and who I should be.

I ran to Lolita, and in rushed, anxious whispers, asked: Who am I? Who should I be? Usually I feel fine in my own skin, but right now I want to wiggle out of it and run away. Am I really ok?

It had to do with my age, and shaking someone’s categories up, and them not knowing what box to put me in, and usually I quite enjoy doing that to people, but this time, for whatever reason, I didn’t.

So Lolita told me some nice words and hugged me, which usually puts most anything into rights again, and I’ve stayed in my own skin, and not moulted as I was thinking of doing.

Instead, I’m noticing grey hair appearing on my head at an amazing rate. It’s a fascinating phenomenon.

One my favourite Scripture pieces is John 1, and lately verse 16 rings repeatedly in my head: Out of his fullness we have all received grace in place of grace already given.

Grace on top of grace. Generous, copious, extravagant gifts on top of gifts. I live in this reality, and the wonder of it takes my breath away.

Then this morning I read another of Mark Galli’s excellent articles, (you can read it here) and it resonated deeply with me.

… in all its simplicity, it all its miraculousness, God’s word to Mary, God’s word to us: “Hey you. Yeah you—favored one!”

Biblical commentators and novelists have fun speculating why Mary was greeted like this. She is often pictured as a devout young woman, pure in heart, whose righteousness won her the honor of bearing Jesus. But in fact, the Bible shows no interest whatsoever in Mary’s life prior to this moment (and relatively little afterward). This announcement to Mary comes completely out of the blue, as if it were an act of sheer grace.

Indeed, an act of grace to Mary and to us. Before we could decide for or against God, before we could show him how religious we are, before we could ask forgiveness for our first sin, before we were the apple of our parents’ eyes, before the foundation of the world, God favored us. Not because he knew we would blossom into greatness. ….No, we were favored when God knew well enough that we would fail to live up to our potential, that most days we would be miserable little disciples. Yes, in spite of the fact that we would be sad, fearful, doubting, anxious, and sinful people, he favored us.

I think that life can never be the same after we have heard his words: “Hey, you there, you favoured one!”

I’m one of those touchy-feely people. I often find myself touching the person I’m talking with, squinting my eyes in response to what they say, nodding or cocking my head to listen better. I value texture, sound and proportion in full, real-life dimensions. That’s why I can’t believe it when I hear myself say that I share deep, meaningful communication with several ladies I’ve never met. But it’s true.

I met Linda when we were both in shock over the death of Isaac. Linda knows my sister, but not me, and our point of contact was our mutual grief at the loss of a wonderful, gifted young man. As we kept writing, we discovered more mutual points of interest and experience. She was teaching English in Mexico, and I loved her stories of her passion about her young friends and their adventures. We still keep in touch even though our worlds are more dissimilar and I’m amazed at how we understand and identify with each other. What a gift it is!

It was through Boundless that I found Elizabeth. I happened across her article “One Single Day” and liked it alot, but didn’t make contact with her until much later after reading other pieces she’d written. Her articles are listed and linked on the ‘writing’ page on her blog. In the last year, we’ve emailed and chatted now and then. She absorbed some big questions I dumped on her, and was a calm, caring voice that restored my equilibrium. She’s given me alot with her gentle words.

Ann is a extraordinary artist with words and pictures. She has graced me with thoughtful, gentle emails in response to my messages to her. Farmer’s wife and homeschooling mother of six, she blogs with wisdom and honesty that gives me permission to believe again in the power of words. I can’t wait for her first book coming next year!

Dorcas has written several books, and blogs frequently about everyday, earthy, homespun things. We’ve emailed now and then, and she’s been a witty, warm voice that makes me wish we could drink tea together. It was her advice that gave me the final push to self-publish my book, and I’ve been so grateful. She also gave me good counsel and comfort when I was kerflumuxed about criticism about my book. I hope we meet sometime!

Ok, this post has to hold the record of having the most links. That’s the point of these friendships. I only met them through some link. I’ve never heard the timbre of their voices, or seen how tall they are or how firm their hugs. Still, I feel a kinship, an understanding of souls, having only met electronically. For this I am grateful, despite my huge reservations about cyber relationships.

Friendship and communication are complex things. It’s hard to rate or quantify the dynamics. Written words are the only way I’ve come to know these ladies who have given me so much. I’m thankful for their words, even though the words are one-dimensional, and they limit how well we know each other. Despite the limitations of our friendship, I’m very rich for having them flying in my galaxy!