Ouch!

Today's blessings were a tonic for my soul.  A tree full of red-winged blackbirds started my day (they were quiet - it must take them time to find their voices) and the dusting of snow made their presence impossible to miss.  My heart monitor didn't arrive today, so I got to spend an hour gently excrcising at the Elks Rehab pool - perhaps the last time for a month.  I savored every second in the water - each movement was a blessing.  I had a perfect cup of heart tea at Shangri La (visiting Shangri La is always good for my heart).  And I had a pre-dissertation defense conversation with David, whose big day is tomorrow.  I got some paperwork done in the office and might be almost 1/4 of the way through my emails.  It was a good day, even if it was a fraction of what is normally done in my day.

But last night ended on an interesting note.  After spending my quiet time in prayer (which amounted to a wordless time of silence and sorrow sitting in God's presence), I headed to bed to read my two Lenten devotionals before I fell asleep.  I turned first to Bread and Wine, and read the day's reflection with a bit of disinterest and boredom.  That changed, however, when the final sentence of the essay jumped off the page and hit me right between the eyes:  "Beware of refusing to go to the funeral of your own independence."

Ouch!  I am so fiercely independent, and stake part of my identity on this personality trait.  Perhaps under certain circumstances this quality serves me well, but it isn't helping me right now (and I'm not sure it is ever my best asset).  If I had a dollar for everyone who, in the past few days, has sincerely offered to help me during this difficult time, I could make a substantial down-payment on the national debt.  Yet I cannot think of anything for them to do, and instead try to find ways to keep doing everything I always do, in one form or another.  Today a dear colleague once again offered to help me with my pastoral work, and I honestly could not think of anything he could do to help me.  As I thought about it, I realized that I respond to God, my friend and partner, in the same way.  "I've got it all under control - thanks but no thanks, I can handle it."

People I care for who behave like this drive me crazy!  Psychology teaches us that the qualities in others that invite a strong, negative reaction are often qualities we cannot accept or acknowledge in ourselves.  Buddhism teaches us that by embracing those qualities, we can deepen our capacity for compassion, and thereby be of greater service to others.  Christianity teaches us that we don't face these lessons alone; God helps us to work through them.

How odd to find myself having to learn all over again how to share...and accept help...and to not see myself as weak and flawed because I cannot uphold the world in the palm of my hand.

Sigh.  You never know what work you will find to do in a construction zone...

Before I turned out the light I read the day's passage in Henri Nouwen's Lenten Devotional Show Me The Way.  Again, my mind wandered a bit during the devotional, but the closing prayer went straight to my heart:

Why, O Lord, is it so hard for me
to keep my heart directed toward you?
Why does my mind wander off
in so many directions,
and why does my heart desire
the things that lead me astray?
Let me sense your presence
in the midst of my turmoil.
Take my tired body,
my confused mind,
and my restless soul into your arms
and give me rest - simple, quiet rest.

And with that prayer I turned out the light, and allowed myself to rest in God's arms...and I slept a deep, peaceful sleep.

May you do the same tonight, resting in the arms of God.

With love,
Kim