Gatherer.

I did a lot, a lot of writing tonight.

Peterso can testify, I have a lot, a lot on my mind.

But it got lost to cyberspace

(this is perhaps fortunate for those of you reading).

If you don't mind, I'm going to jot down a few notes

that I remember about the gist of the post that wasn't.

They won't make much sense, these notes.

Though they might sound familiar.

They're like a theme.

I'm a gatherer to my core. Outwardly it is expressed by how I like to understand people, have them feel understood, and have them be understanding towards others. I like enfolding. Inwardly, the gathererness is expressed by a deep desire for the integration of all the pieces of my life. All I have are parts-- only a picture with this person or that, in this place or that, during this phase or that.

"[INFPs] great passion is to heal the conflicts that trouble individuals, or that divide groups, and thus to bring wholeness, or health, to themselves, their loved ones, and their community."

Gather:

To gain by a process of gradual increase

To collect into one place; assemble

To pick up and enfold

Integrity:

The state of being whole, entire, or undiminished.

All around me there are pieces and there is brokenness and I become better acquainted with how ill-equipped I am to make things whole. The "healer" label of the INFP, a subdivision of the "idealists," is really quite misleading. Because though I have a deep seated affinity for the big picture, for how all of this ends, and though am enthralled by the Healer I celebrate this season, who came, undiminished to put pieces together, I have very little idea of how to "fix" things or even how He'll accomplish it. I just really want to.

Jesus washed Judas's feet. He's well acquainted with serving people who threaten or even just question "the" way of life. But he knew what I often forget-- people aren't the threat.

Logistically it might make sense to avoid this area or that, this demographic or that, for they are threatening, but God is ill-concerned with my "safety." He is the safety. The security that draws me out to what's difficult and different choices and lifestyles and people. He isn't threatened by different people or circumstances, and if I am, I'm doing a lousy job of allowing him to refine me into a follower that resembles him in the abandon with which he loves God and loves people.

I see protesters occupying and I see the Kingdom, where He cares, yes even for these.

I see people who live life differently and I long to meet in the middle, on common ground and I see the Kingdom, where life is about more than how I live it.

The Kingdom where

the poor in spirit have a place

the mourners are comforted

the meek inherit

the righteous-hungry (and not the self-righteous) get their fill

the merciful get it back

the pure see

the peacemakers are acknowledged

the persecuted triumph

Where life gets flipped upside down and pieces start to fit.

We Christians act giddy over and sing nice songs about this kingdom that we agree we look forward to and want to see here on earth but then we are surprised and can get downright defensive when God starts flipping things around, exposing our own pride and prejudice and beckons us to put it aside to see the pain and the poor and the people he loves regardless of nationality, income, political affiliation, accent, skin color, orientation, language spoken.

I don't look lost. But I was lost. I am lost every time I start living my life as if the favor was merited. I was gathered. I am gathered. There were 99 sheep doing life right-- going to church, being the church, earning the living, getting the job, keeping promises, telling the truth, revering God-- but the Shepherd goes after the 1. I was the one. I still am the one. And he still comes after me. Who am I to believe he'd meet me where I am, but not others?

Perhaps I'm doing life right. But there is so much in this life I could lose in an instant. So many reasons people wander. And still, he gathers.

There is such a thin line between me and "them," us and "they." There really isn't even a line, I just keep penciling it back in. He erases it with every new grace extended, undeserved to me.

Inwardly, I'm constantly gathering. Putting bits and pieces up on a memory board to create a more composite sketch of life as a whole. I spend time journaling or blogging, trying to put pieces together. I take pictures and put them out there and people, they get this impression that that Sadie has it all together.

It is true that I do everything I can to honestly put my heart out there and what you see is what you get, really. I don't wear socks with my boots and I will admit that freely and I mean it when I say that I'll get my wedding dress at Ross Dress For Less and I turn up the "Saturday song" by Elton John in the car with 3 rambunctious kids and we all scream at the top of our lungs and people stare and we don't care because that's us and we're enjoying this one life we get to do well. (Never to be extreme, however, there is always much regard for when it's appropriate to simmer down and be polite and speak softly).

There is little I desire to hide because life is too short, I think. I might seem shy at first, but when you get to know me, you know me. There aren't skeletons and there's nothing pent up about to pour forth. The pictures and the posts, they are honest and convey a lot about how much I love this life I've been given. But every post, picture, conversation-- even the 2 hour long ones during which I sound so sure to be so struggling to make sense of the pieces-- falls short of conveying my whole heart. Much less His.

Inwardly, I can achieve the integrity I so desire-- or at least feel at peace about trying-- because it's me, and I can do what I want, man.

Outwardly, it's hard to see pieces-- excuses to not like this person or that, differences between people, problems people face-- because I don't know how to put them together. There is no memory board, no easy way to make a composite out of the pieces of life around me. And also, other people aren't my responsibility.

But I'm so drawn to them.

I'm a gatherer.

"...he calls them each by name and leads them out." (John 10:3)