Long ago, when I was in high school and spending the summer in a music camp, I broke curfew to engage in some
last night of summer school wildness. Chautauqua Institution was not a place prone to late night mischief, and we gave the police (in their golf carts) a night to remember. Hurlbut Church wasn't locked (and in a residential area), so we began by starting a 3 am organ recital with full organ. When lights starting going on in neighboring houses, we grabbed the contents of the lost and found box, raced through the center of town and ran towards the lake, decorating the stop signs with sweaters and jackets as we went. We then switched the North Lake Dr. and South Lake Dr. signs (they hung on hooks making switching them child's play) and were just about to get away with our low stakes mischief when the police started to chase us (remember the golf carts). We split up and ran in different directions, running as fast as we could. A friend and I ran towards the lake, forgetting that there was a large scale model of the holy land in the vicinity. I tripped over Bethsaida, flew up into the air and landed on my back in the Sea of Galilee - with my friend holding her hand over my mouth so I didn't scream out in pain. Once the police golf carts were long gone, we crawled out of the Sea of Galilee, and limped back to our dorm, giggling as we went. Our exploits made the local newspaper - you would have thought we had started a crime spree! The next day I headed home from the heady excitement of my summer experience to Labor Day weekend and the anonymity of a High School with over 1000 in my graduating class. Reentry was extremely difficult, because at Chautauqua I was known and had an identity that differed from my reality back in Kenmore, NY. The challenge was to meld the two together so that I could be "me" in both places, different though they were. It was a daunting challenge at 16.
Thirty-eight years later, I find myself experiencing a similar-though-not-exactly-the-same kind of reentry challenge. How can I build the same affirming experiences/schedule/opportunities into my daily life away from Seminary? How can the "me" that is nourished, valued and respected at SFTS thrive here in an environment with very different expectations and challenges?
The past few weeks I've felt like I've been lying on my back in the Sea of Galilee - not a comfortable feeling. I found myself unable to write, and acutely aware of entering into this deepening spiral known as Lent. Reentry is not always easy, but can be a time rich with opportunities for insight and growth (known as an AFGE when one is feeling cynical and wishing for one less growth opportunity, and called a gift when one is rested and open - and ready for what is emerging). Even though life has felt like an unending series of AFGEs lately, there has also been a quiet, invitational pull coming from deep within, drawing me along this spiral dance into the heart of Lent. Richard Rohr's Lenten devotional has been a companion, as has two special icons - one of the Transfiguration, and the other of Mary Magdalene. She holds a red egg in her hand - a symbol of life.
New life and transformation - not bad companions as I travel this Lenten journey.
What or who has been your companion as you travel into Lent?
Drying off from my unexpected fall into the lake,
Kim
