The life I touch for good or ill will touch another life, and that in turn another, until who knows where the trembling stops or in what far place my touch will be felt
(from The Hungering Dark, 1968)
(from The Hungering Dark, 1968)
Her post on interconnections is lovely and thoughtful (and that she mentions our awesome theology class, the high point of my last quarter at Iliff, is a bonus). But the quote has me thinking about my own life, and call, and my struggles to live authentically and boldly in a world which values neither particularly much. The questioning if what I do -- who I touch, and how -- makes any difference whatsoever.
There are days, such as these, when the wondering gets the better of me. When my imagination feels exhausted, when the work to heal and be whole (myself, the world) seems endless.
Or perhaps the sentence should read like this: When my imagination feels exhausted the work to heal and be whole (myself, the world) seems endless.
Days when my best attempts for best touch meet only the immovable.
Or at least that is how it feels to me. Because Buechner is probably right: I have no idea. I have no idea what impact my life has in the world.
Who knows where the trembling stops? I want to think on that, ponder that possibility that in the trembling, there lies the way to hope.
There are days, such as these, when the wondering gets the better of me. When my imagination feels exhausted, when the work to heal and be whole (myself, the world) seems endless.
Or perhaps the sentence should read like this: When my imagination feels exhausted the work to heal and be whole (myself, the world) seems endless.
Days when my best attempts for best touch meet only the immovable.
Or at least that is how it feels to me. Because Buechner is probably right: I have no idea. I have no idea what impact my life has in the world.
Who knows where the trembling stops? I want to think on that, ponder that possibility that in the trembling, there lies the way to hope.
