Untellable

At 21, Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time is still one of my favorite books. Read it if you haven't. At one point in the story, the characters encounter a people without sight. I found a quote from one of those characters to be extremely helpful in processing the last week:

“We do not know what things look like. We know what things are like. It must be a very limiting thing, this seeing."

One of the theologians I've been reading this year spent some time unpacking the difficulty of telling stories of trauma. She asserts that there are things that are so terrible that our vocabulary has no way of fully communicating them. They become "untellable" stories.  And as I've sat with friends, mentors, even strangers, holding their frustration, I know there is truth in what she says.

It wasn't until this week though, that I found her words to be true of something beautiful. Holy Week at Iona, the teaching, the people, relationships, the hours spent wandering along the Sound, the late night services in the cold, drafty Abbey, will live in my very bones for years to come.

And even as I acknowledge the profound mark the last week has had on me, I have to also admit that it's difficult to share, not because I don't want to, but because my vocabulary cannot move into moments of sweet community, theology that made me want to weep with joy, and meals so perfect that I was never hungry.

I can tell you what I saw. I can tell you of a quiet winding road, of sheep guarding newborn lambs, of water so clear it reflected the clouds as they passed and so blue it might take your breath away, of buildings that echo with ancient stories of monastic rhythms and whisper a new story of community and justice, of the smiles and the tears of the four young children whose presence grounded the sea of adults gathered for the week, and of fresh baked scones at tea time every morning at 11.

Beyond sight though and beyond words, there was something pulsing underneath, something that caught me in the stillness of the island, something untellable, risky, incredible, and beautiful. 

I've made it to Glasgow for the day, and tonight I'll be in London! I took nearly 300 photos last week. Even as sight is limiting, I am grateful for the photo memories as the already untellable beauty of the week slips further out of reach in the noise of city life. 

Here are just a few pictures of the trip -