The aftermath of this morning's thunder storm brought sheer bliss to the birds living around Boise First. With puddles of water pooling near the curbs, Woodlawn Avenue had its own spurdie waterpark! I sat for many minutes enjoying the scene - birds of all different "denominations" playfully popping in and out of the puddles. No time to fight for territory when blessed with a late summer shower! Appreciation for blessings seems to make it easier to get along, whether your two legs come with feathers and wings, or skin, clothes, and walking shoes!
It feels good to be back to work. I am still in the "easing in" stage - meaning my best intentions still sometimes get short-circuited by energy fade. The technology I regularly bash enables me to work flexibly, and prayer works wherever I am. I have enjoyed reconnecting pastorally - that is what drew me into ministry, and is a significant part of who I am. Connecting one person - one family at a time...that feels good.
And it is good to feel good. Pain levels are now discomfort levels, and aside from the cough that will be my companion for awhile longer, life is slowly settling into a new normal that is acceptable (as opposed to terrifying). Exploring this new normal is a daily event - one step at a time. It also gives me a safe place from which to reflect on my recent experience...
...and it was a really awful experience. But that was not the total reality - there were also incredible moments of grace and life - times where I felt God's presence so vividly that I could feel myself being held - being supported - by God. I have enough distance now that I can start asking some important questions: What made a difference? What helped? In the midst of crisis/trauma, what made the situation bearable, and opened up space for grace, healing and transformation?
Upon reflection, these components made a great difference for me:
1. My prayer/meditation practice: Taking time in the morning and evening to sit and meditate/pray - to be still and open to God's presence - has sometimes felt very inconvenient, especially during busy times when I had important things that needed to get done (with no disrespect to God). But doing this again and again, day after day and year after year, left me familiar with the journey into the heart of God, and sensitive to signs of God's presence. The middle of a crisis is not the time to try to learn these things - it is better to have them in place before life explodes. In the midst of this turmoil, I would find myself deep in prayer without consciously choosing to pray. I would experience myself in that peaceful place that occasionally is found during meditation, having somehow followed the spiritual breadcrumbs that led me there. And I could quickly see signs of God's movement and presence - all of which gave me great comfort and hope. The experience was more than and better than just routine and "muscle memory" - it was as if a part of my being, totally untouched by pain, morphine, or fear, just knew where to go, what to do, and how to keep me in the boat. I would hear my soul silently singing a prayer song from January Intensive at SFTS: "Peace, be still...peace, be still. The storm rages - peace, be still." In those frightful times, hearing that inner song would remind/invite me to go down into the boat and hunker down next to the sleeping Jesus - and rest.
Not only does a prayer/meditation practice deepen one's experience of God on a day to day basis, it is a life saver when the storms come. I found myself thankful for every previous moment I had sat in prayerful meditation - every second spent watching and noticing God's movement in the world. It all helped keep my head above water.
Another benefit a meditation/prayer practice provides is it teaches us to sit with uncomfortable emotions without racing off to fix/cover/deny them. So much pain is created by covering or fleeing from unpleasant emotions! By learning to sit with them, one discovers that the emotions, in time, will pass, and can offer us the opportunity for insight. Physical illness brings a host of emotions, and often keeps you from using the strategies that normally manage/cover those emotions (try as you might, you just can't do what you did before). As feelings would arise, I would treat them like clouds in the sky (or leaves floating on the river), and watch them float by, knowing that they would pass, and listen to see if they invited a new insight (at least I tried to do this some of the time, and when I did, it was very helpful).
2. "God With Skin On:" The presence of calm, loving, supportive people also helped to save my life during the crisis. People who felt secure enough to just let things be as messy as they were (especially the emotions) without trying to fix, explain or "pretty things up" were truly "God With Skin On (to use Anne Robertson's phrase). These people also knew when to let the mess be, and when to offer help in bringing order to chaos. Whether it was simply by gently sitting with me, fixing a meal, taking out the trash, or reassuring me that this may be my experience today, but my experience next week (or month) might be very different - in all these ways and more, God upheld me through the presence of others.
3. Time: I thought of using the word "patience," but when I was in the midst of the experience, that word was extremely unattractive to me. But the word time made sense - healing would take time - feeling "normal" again would take time - having a sense of meaning and purpose again would take time - knowing what was going to happen next would take time. This notion of time became a reality that was like being in a boat on the river, with the currents and experience of the river varying with circumstances, and almost completely outside of my control. This new experience of time meant that I would never look at life and plans and schedules and expectations as I had in the past . Things were happening "in their own time" - in "God's time - and I would hear the prayer song from chapel: "Your way, your time, your will, not mine, Sweet Light, not mine." I acutely experienced the fluidity of time - and how, for the most part, we really do not manage it - despite what we might tell ourselves.
I am just now going back to my formal prayer/meditation practice. It required significant modification during my initial recovery (which wasn't a bad thing). Now I feel ready to resume my intentional participation in this important rhythm of my life - morning and evenings - "bookending" my day. Time to float in the river - sometimes in the boat, and sometimes (now that I feel stronger) I can let myself out of the boat so I can float in the water. In my encounters with others, I actively look for the opportunity to bring the kind of presence that was so helpful to me - opening up space for Spirit to work to help me be "God with skin on." And as for time - well, it flashes past like a shooting star, and slowly rolls along like a river of syrup. I love its many manifestations, and have lost the urge to tame it. It takes as long as it takes.
Life - learning - healing - growth - it takes as long as it takes. Amen.
What songs does your heart sing when you are afraid? What invitations does it offer? When you feel lost, where do the bread crumbs lead you? When life explodes, what is your lifeline? These are questions best answered on a peaceful, sunny day, when the waters are calm and no storms are on the horizon. In a crisis, God does most of the heavy lifting. But when there are small things we can do that help, it is good to do them. Now. Before the storm.
Floating along,
Kim
