Last night I hit my wall - trying desperately to be all things to all people once again left me short- changing myself. The remedy was to let go of a few things and focus - and the letting go was hard, as all things are when habitual patterns are broken.
It was in that spirit of fresh rawness that I went to Chapel this morning for prayer. In the midst of worship the pianist played a prelude that came right from my heart - joy and sorrow co-mingled - hope and pain dancing together. I thanked him after worship - and he gave me the copy he played from of this precious Prelude he had written. I look forward to playing it when I get home - my heart already knows the melody.
In class we completed our "Structures and Systems" work, and I celebrated and grieved for the beloved system I had studied. There is a way that we are "with" each other here - a tender, respectful way we give space for the work each of us is doing, while being close enough to support and witness/affirm the learning (and grieving) that is part of this journey. Dr. Liebert has a wise way of marking transitions - of upholding endings and beginnings. Sophia lives here, weaving laughter and tears together into a stunning tapestry of possibility and hope.
In our small praxis group we had our final "practice" session and took time to honor the bonds of trust that were built in this crucible of vulnerability and respectful risk-taking. We went around the circle and took turns honoring each person with a few words describing how we had experienced them during our time together. Then our group leader, who is a true Grandmother (in the wisdom tradition sense of the word), had us close our eyes and gave each of us two gifts - a small piece of chocolate and a rainbow candle. Some cried, and we hugged, and celebrated work done well. Then we went to Dr. Liebert's class and had our ending - honoring the work we had done, offering it back to God, and tying a ribbon to the net of prayer that symbolized the system we had been laboring over for days - more tears.
As the light dimmed and we settled into Chapel, we sang a Taize chant that quiets my heart: "Nothing can trouble, nothing can frighten. Those who seek God shall never go wanting. Nothing can trouble. Nothing can frighten. God alone fills us." Then communion, more hugs, and home for the night.
And the deer? Well - I could barely believe my eyes...I came home at lunch time to do the last church work before signing off from email until my time here concludes. As I finished the last email I looked up, and outside my window were a small herd of deer coming down the hill - stopping equal to my window, and grazing. A lunch date! I pushed the computer to one side, slowly raised the blinds on the windows, went and got my lunch, and sat down in front of the window and ate with my companions. And my heart filled with peace - and I felt affirmed in my decision to focus and care for myself during this intensive time of study - and I enjoyed the mealtime companionship of five old friends. Last year the deer were an invitation to freedom as they climbed those stairs into the unknown, and today they were an invitation into deeper self care and acceptance, as they dined with me (vegan one and all) and brought me another kind of community - and a powerful symbol of God's abiding presence in my life.
And my heart sang: "As a dear for flowing water longs, so my soul, O God longs for you." God touched my longing, and soothed my soul.
Amen.
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