Where Moshe is reminded that Hashem's ways are not our ways...

This morning I discovered that I have 15,001 emails in my Yahoo inbox (that's almost 8 years' worth, for those who want to know), so I've taken it upon myself to delete at least 1,000 a day. Starting with the earliest, which I am deleting en masse, I've paused occasionally to read the odd email with an interesting subject line, or from a guy I later became involved with. As I read one from said gentleman and deleted it, another one from a cataloguing friend popped up to take its place: that became my current status. I saved that one. Then another - this one. As Prince of Egypt came into my consciousness yesterday (I posted Ashira L'Adonai on my facebook wall), I couldn't help but note the synchronicity. Another part of this synchronicity was that I happened to be listening to Chris de Burgh's One world yesterday, and the second verse begins:

I believe there is a God: but it doesn't mean that my God is greater than yours - it only means we all have the right to believe, 'cos nobody knows it for sure, for sure...

And as Archbishop Bloom points out in this story, not even he who met Hashem in the burning bush can define who G-d must be to the rest of us:

One day Moshe finds a shepherd in the desert. He spends the day with him and helps him milk his ewes, and at the end of the day he sees that the shepherd puts the best milk he has in a wooden bowl, which he places on a flat stone some distance away. So Moshe asks him what it is for, and the shepherd replies, "This is God's milk."

Moshe is puzzled and asks him what he means.

The shepherd says "I always take the best milk I possess and I bring it as an offering to God."

Moshe asks "And does God drink it?"

"Yes,” replies the shepherd, "he does."

Then Moshe feels compelled to enlighten the poor shepherd and he explains that God, being pure spirit, does not drink milk. Yet the shepherd is sure that He does and so they have a short argument, which ends with Moshe telling the shepherd to hide behind the bushes to find out whether in fact God does come to drink the milk.

Moshe then goes out to pray in the desert. The shepherd hides, the night comes, and in the moonlight the shepherd sees a little fox that comes trotting from the desert, looks right, looks left, and heads straight towards the milk, which he laps up, and disappears into the desert again. The next morning Moshe finds the shepherd quite depressed and downcast. "What's the matter," he asks.

The shepherd says "You were right. God is pure spirit and He doesn't want my milk."

Moshe is surprised and says "You should be happy. You know more about God than you did before."

"Yes, I do", replies the shepherd, "but the only thing I could give Him has been taken away from me."

Moshe sees the point. He retires into the desert and prays hard. In the night in a vsion, God speaks to him and says "Moshe, you were wrong. It is true that I am pure spirit. Nevertheless, I always accepted with gratitude the milk which the shepherd offered me, as the expression of his love: but since, being pure spirit, I do not need the milk, I shared it with this little fox, who is very fond of milk."

It reminds us that I AM THAT I AM, who is All that Is, lives in relationship with every part of creation - from the galaxies to the tiniest single cell - and that requires an infinite number of presentations to be in relationship: one for Moshe, one for the shepherd, and one for every being He is in relationship with, meeting them where they are.

What would you do if...

I've had reason to think about this lately - if I were on my deathbed, what would I look back and wished that I had been or done or had? Here's a partial list:

1. A childhood - a carefree childhood in which I had just been allowed to be, allowed to play
2. A close immediate family of origin - I would have loved to have had parents that I could have been close to, told everything to, been friends with, trusted - parents I could have been loved by.
3. A crazy adolescence - one where I'd gone clubbing, drank, gone out with my friends, had all the crazy teenage pics so many of my friends have (including the bad hair and fashion choices and stupid moments in heels with my arms around friends)
4. Finding my style - I wish I'd had enough confidence, enough wherewithal to experiment and discover my style, instead of sticking with the practical. I still can, of course, but I wish I'd started playing at 18...
5. Play - That last one reminded me of something I didn't learn to do young and still feel very bad at - play. Just let go and play...
6. Loving and being loved - I have the best friends in the world, but I've always known deep down that I want to be in a deeply loving, intimate relationship. One of my uni friends said, "You're made to go through the world two by two." She knew I was fiercely independent, but she also recognised a deep truth about me - that I work better in close partnership. Never having a man with whom I'm intimately bonded for life - emotionally, spiritually, physically - would probably be my deepest sense of loss along with my not having...
7. Children - I've known since I was a young child that being a mother was part of my vocation. Mothering my friends is great, mothering their little ones is great, don't get me wrong - but I want my own, deeply and fiercely.

Now over to you: what is it that you want, hope, desire to be, have, do? Nothing is too small or too great. Put your answers in comments, and flesh them out if you want: see, feel, hear - give it texture; make it real. Put it out there and start to make it real - and if you want, put down the first step you'd be willing to take towards it.

As for me, it's time to find myself some 40s-style clothing and get a haircut.

Then, I'm going out to play.