Sometimes, it works like this: (or is it always...)

I spend a lot of time trying to understand how the universe works.  I guess that makes me a pretty normal human - we have been trying to suss this whole earthly existence out since our first ancestor looked up at the stars and asked "why?  How?"  And we have been asking "why" and "how" questions ever since.  Why do bad things happen to good people?  How do I know if I am following God's leading for my life?  Why is life unfair?  How do I know God is with me?

An ancient explanation for how do I know if I am following God's leading for my life has enjoyed a resurgence in the past decade - repackaged for a new audience, under the heading called "flow."  It suggests that if you are following God's leading for your life, you will find yourself in that zone called "flow" - a place where life is almost effortless, and everything falls into place.  If, instead, you find yourself swimming against the tide, working really hard, and getting beached again and again, that is evidence that you are not in the "flow" - you are working outside the will of God.

It's a seductive explanation, isn't it.  And I have no doubt (because I have experienced this first hand) that there are times in life when it absolutely works like this - you get into a grove, and life feels almost effortless.  But just because it works that way sometimes, it is a mistake to generalize and assume it must always work that way.

Sometimes, the holiest and most transformative work we do is the work that turns us inside-out, upside-down, and leaves us struggling to breathe.  Sometimes, the work Spirit invites us to do is the hardest damn work we have ever done.  It can even feel like a Sisyphean endeavor - we push the rock up the mountain with all our strength, only to have it roll back down to the bottom of the mountain - sometimes running over us in the process!  And all that is left to do is start again.  But - the jaw-dropping part of even the hardest moments in life is that - if we pay attention - we find moments of unexpected grace.  And they are positively amazing.

Today, from noon until 4 pm, I pushed the rock up the hill, had it mow me down, and started pushing it up again.  It was not pretty, and there was no flow, except for tears.  I got home around 4 pm and prepared to sip a grande soy hot chocolate, only to lose my grip on it and have it hit the floor with explosive force.  It was, unfortunately, not half empty - it was a full cup of hot chocolate.  What a mess!  There was sticky hot chocolate everywhere, and I cannot get down on the floor to easily and effectively clean it up.  And - it was 4 pm, and I was due to talk with my spiritual director via telephone.  So I dropped some paper towels on top of the mess, walked around the lake of chocolate, grabbed the phone and sat down on the bench by the window to take some deep breaths and call my soul friend.

I wanted to cry.  I wanted to laugh (it was all so off-the-charts- absurd).  I was tired, and emotionally spent.  And I had a sticky mess to clean up (walls, floor, furniture, carpet - me).  But as I dialed the phone to speak with my soul friend, I remembered something that had happened this morning...

...I remembered sitting by that very window eating breakfast, when - completely unexpectedly - a small, beautiful white feather gently floated past the window, being carried by the wind.  It was fairly still this morning, so the feather floated down ever-so-gently - floating to the right, and then to the left.  I watched it for what seemed like forever - it was very beautiful.  Then I entered into my very hard day, forgetting about the feather.

As I talked with my director about the reality of today, and about how tired I felt because of it, I remembered the feather, and told her about it.  I could tell by the tone and energy in her voice that she had something important to share, and she said "I am a feather on the breath of God."  She paused, and said "That is a quote from Hildegard - you are being held by God - God's very breath. Sustained and upheld by God."  And she silently let me sit with this image, as it seeped all the way to my core.  I can tell when something resonates with  my core because the tears flow.  Hildegard has always been one of my favorite spiritual guides, and yet I had never before heard this quote.  Until today.  Until I needed to hear it, so I could find meaning in the gift of the feather, a gift that was offered to me long before I got mowed down by the rock, or redecorated my entryway with hot chocolate.

Sometimes, it works like this:  Grace and sustenance is present, and generously offered, even before we ask for it.  Even before we need it - before the the rock, aided by gravity, mows us down.  God with us - lovingly, gently, present as we do really hard work.  Surrounding us - upholding us.  And in those moments that feel impossible...

...we can float like a feather on the breath of God.

Perhaps it doesn't just sometimes work like this; maybe it always works like this.  But we are so distracted by our circumstances that we do not notice God's graceful presence, sustaining us.  And so God sends us a feather, and a soul friend, to remind us.

Being upheld,
Kim

Keeping Watch - Making Preparations

I write today from my dining room table, with the most amazing view before me.  This "breakfast nook" area has large windows looking west, south and north.  And due to the wonders of landscaping,  I look out at my backyard and onto a row of trees and shrubs, and then over to bigger trees and BIG sky that surrounds a farmer's field.  My beloved red-tailed hawks nest in one of those big trees.  And even though it is an overcast day (Scotland weather - cold and damp!) the view is glorious.  Geese rest in the field, and although (when seated) I cannot see the field itself, I can watch the skeins of geese landing (what a sight - I love how they curve their wings to drop altitude and prepare for landing - so cool)!

The most unusual part of this view is what I cannot see - between my backyard fence and the farmer's field is Meridian Road - hidden (except for the tallest trucks) by the landscaping.  It is a muckle busy road - but not from this viewpoint.  Trees and shrubbery render it all but invisible.

Some day the farmer's field will go the way of all small farms in Meridian, and be turned into another  bland subdivision.  The geese will have no place to rest, and I will miss the entertainment of seeing a row of them perched on the roof line of my neighbor's house.  And at some point they will probably widen Meridian Road so it can carry more traffic.  But today, the geese, clouds and trees have won the day.  Bliss.

I am on study leave for the next week - a time to catch up with reading, writing, planning, and my dissertation proposal.  And time to prepare for Advent - my favorite season of the church year.  I am an confessed Advent junkie - I find the thought of God's love for humanity being so great that God dons human DNA and experiences everything from hunger to heartbreak to be positively irresistible.  I count down the days until I can light my first Advent Candle (ten as of today - because I light the first candle Saturday evening after dark, which is the day before the First Sunday of Advent).  For candle-lighting, I am on monastery time.  And for Advent devotionals, I am on French time.  The French once held the custom of celebrating Advent for 40 days (like Lent), and I have an Advent devotional written by a French monk that begins on November 15th.  I started reading it last Sunday, which marked 40 days until the Nativity - more bliss.

I enter this study leave heart-broken and weary from the senseless violence and fear erupting in our world - violence that never achieves its stated goals (whether perpetrated by terrorists, or by their victims), and fear that is stoked by leaders who are convinced that, maybe, a violent response will work this time.  I shudder as I listen to our politicians ratcheting up the fear - bigger and better - causing good people to step back from their values and make reactive choices fueled by this fear.  And with fear as its fuel, the cycle of violence becomes self-perpetuating.  History provides us with ample examples of this failed strategy.  But it does give us a feeling of being in control - like we are doing something.  And we human beings, when faced with something that frightens and overwhelms us, look for ways to be in control - even if those ways are destined to fail.  The illusion of control distracts us from the discomfort of our feelings of fear and helplessness, of the reality that the only things we really control are ourselves, and our responses.  We can influence other human beings, but we ultimately cannot control them.  Leo Tolstoy, who is remembered today in the devotional I read, says it so clearly:  "Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself."  And as Eastern and Western Sages have taught us throughout the ages, peace starts with the individual, one person at a time.  It starts with ourselves.

To settle my soul and bring peace into my inner world, I will use this week to fast from the news outlets, and email.  I will read Jean Vanier's book "Finding Peace."  I will keep the daily rhythms of prayer for which I am hard-wired (and which seem so hard for me to keep while I am working), and I will pray for peace, and for our  leaders to have the courage to step away from pushing the fear button, and instead begin conversations about the changes and choices that can lead to lasting, sustainable peace. I will complete my worship planning and dissertation proposal.  I will weave.  I will write.  I will simplify my schedule for Advent, and pare down my responsibilities.  And I will be still - ever so still - as God prepares my heart to be pregnant with the Spirit, so I can birth peace and love into this world.

How will you prepare for Advent?  What will you do to open your heart, mind, and choices to peace, love, and justice?  What will help you to carry and birth the essence of the Christ Child into our world?

It is time to prepare for our Advent journey!

Keeping watch for Advent's beginnings,
Kim