Giving Up

Over the years, I have given up different things for Lent. My children have also joined in giving up. One year, my oldest child and her best friend gave up pickles. They approached it very seriously, and reverently, as far as 5 year olds can.
I sat in church today and heard a sermon about Jesus giving up his family. It reminded me of a conversation I had with a very respected clergy member. He had forgotten something, and I had gotten upset. I apologized explaining that I was very sensitive to anyone representing the very church that had hurt me so much. I then went on to explain that I had been kicked out of church. He listened patiently, and then responded in a way that shook me out of my misery. “I was kicked out of my first church also” I choked back tears as I realized that I was speaking with someone who understood my story because we shared it. I managed to thank him, “There are very few people who understood what you give up in order to speak Truth.”
So, I sat in a new church this morning pondering what I had left to give up. My answer came to me so clearly that I felt it in the pit of my stomach. It has been a year since I went to the post office to sign for a letter from my home church. It was a letter threatening to have me arrested if I were found on the premises. It was a letter that changed my life forever. It was tangible evidence of what I had been willing to give up. Over the past year, I have fought with myself over reconciliation. I kept the hope of past friends remembering promises during Holy Baptism. I had hoped that I could forgive and be forgiven. I had hoped that somehow, some way, we could remember that we are all part of the Body.
So, this morning, my answer came to me. I realized that I had to give up hope of earthly reconciliation. This is God’s territory, and I need to give it back to the Holy One. This morning, I watched my precocious 3 year old follow her big sister up to the stage to sing a praise song at the end of the service. I realized, at once, how welcomed and valued my children were at this simple country church. I looked at my decision to give up hope, and I decided it was a good thing.

Ashes

Ash Wednesday has always been a very important observance for me. Since I was working yesterday, I went for a quick smudging at the chapel in the hospital. I then went on to have the very best imaginable Ash Wednesday ever.

Whenever I get to be in attendance with someone as they give birth, I get to be a part of something much larger than myself. I am humbled by the work and effort of a mother. I am entranced with the hands of a gifted midwife as she holds them in a loving way to catch a baby as he makes his way into this world. I fall in love with a new creature as he opens his eyes, realizing that things are a little bit different now. Birth is hard, it is messy. Sometimes, it even smells bad. Although surrounded by love and support, the mother is the only one who can do the work of birthing a baby.

So, yesterday, I remained busy holding things, handing things and fetching things. Yet, my main purpose was simply to hold sacred space, giving the mother and baby room to do whatever they needed to do.

It was a perfect way of remembering who I really am in this world.


Almighty God, you have created us out of the dust of the
earth: Grant that these ashes may be to us a sign of our
mortality and penitence, that we may remember that it is
only by your gracious gift that we are given everlasting life;
through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen. Book of Common Prayer

Retreating

I am a mother of 4 children. I work full time. We live in the country with chickens, goats and animals. We try to have a garden every year. I want to raise more chickens this year. Our children are very involved in sports, church, plays....
I don't ever really feel like I have time to do the things I really want to do for my family. I spend most of my weekends cooking, baking and cleaning the house. There is the occasional date with my husband (don't forget about him). I have friends having babies. I enjoy spending time with my girl friends. I also try to pick up time at my part-time job in the ER.
I can't remember the last time I finished a book. I am tired.
My tiredness is not physical, I actually feel better than I have in years. My soul has gotten tired. I get pulled in so many different directions, I just don't get to sit still and renew.
I am spending this weekend at a convent where the rhythm of life revolves around the daily offices. Bells ring to tell us to go to chapel to pray or the dining hall to eat. I look forward to renewing long-distance relationships and letting my soul feel safe and nurtured.
In the 15 years I have spent mothering other people, I have learned one very important thing. I have to take care of myself. Sometimes, I have to retreat to a place where I refresh my role as a daughter and sister. I need to receive in order to give to those who depend on me for so much.
I can't wait!

Mentoring

Mentoring has become a real theme for me over the past several years. I listened to a parenting 'expert' talk about relating with children. For the first 2-3 years, the parent's role is a form of ministry. You take full care of your child. Until age 13 or so, your role is to discipline. He referred to this as 'discipleship'. After at 13, the parent's role is mentor.

It was a huge shift for me as I started figuring out how to deal with my almost 13 year old daughter. I also quickly realized that I needed my own mentors.

Being mentored can be difficult. There have been times when I was told things I didn't want to hear. There were times when I wanted it 'my way', and I didn't care what other people thought. I also became aware that, even with a mentor, I was in control of my own decisions. Likewise, I was completely accountable to myself. It was altogether freeing and frightening.

As I have pondered my role in mentoring others, I realize how hard it can be. I had to give up control and let them feel the freedom (and accountability) to making their own decisions. I had to take my needs, my desires and my prejudices out of the equation. I had to make myself available for them.

I watched 'The View' today. All of the co-hosts talked about the mentors in their lives. I recognize the gratitude of knowing that we never, ever really get anywhere in life by ourselves. I was able to Skype with my Spiritual mentor today. I still find it remarkable her generosity with me. I hope, and pray, that I can repay that by helping others.

 

It'll come back home to you

So, I was sitting in a waiting room today. I was sitting in a rocking chair listening to southern accents talk in the way country folk do. I mean fairly slow and soft. Country folk tend to use as few words as necessary to make their voice heard.
At one point, someone was talking about a boss whose philosophy was: everyone one of you is replaceable. She smiled and said, "He found out quick enough that it was true for him too." The guy across the room said "Yep, it came back home to him." He went on to say that this is the lesson he keeps trying to teach his grandchildren. "Be careful how you treat someone, because it will come back home to ya."
I started laughing saying he was exactly right. I lamented that I don't have the patience to sit and wait. I just get mad, and that ain't good. All the folks in the room nodded and said you've just got to wait. It always comes back.

We southerners have a simple sort of wisdom. Then again, most real wisdom is simple. I was reminded today how much I enjoy the soft cadence of rocking and talking with people. Talking with people who have life experience and good old fashion common sense.

My newest book to read is "The little book of letting go." I'm making a real intention of shedding some more layers and letting go. Fighting back, pointing out bad things, arguing with people who aren't listening has worn me down. I'm going to start letting all of that go and just simply let things go back home to them. Well, I suspect I have a few things coming back home to me, too. At least I can try not to add too many more things to that list.

I'm glad my back hurt today and I had to sit a while for the chiropractor.

Words

I was watching 'Grey's Anatomy' tonight. I watched a surgeon struggle to tell another surgeon about the death of her husband. The grieving widow said "I need to hear the word." Of course, Dr Yang was obliged to use the word dead. Ouch. I know how much it hurt her to say.
In the 1990's, I spent some time as a paramedic. It is the only job I have had that gave me the obligation to tell family members the patient was dead. One time, I really screwed this part up. I talked awhile with the wife if a deceased patient. After a few minutes, I told her that there was nothing else we could do, so we would be leaving. She looked at me and announced that she would be going to wake her husband up. I realized at that very intensely, awkward moment that I had not used the 'right' word with her. I looked at the deputy beside me and walked away. I would chicken out, leaving him to say the words.
I remember the moment. It is seared in my memory as an event that has taught me the importance of words. More importantly, it taught me the crucial importance of being present.
I have been reflecting a great deal on my years as a paramedic, emt. I realize how formative those years have been. I have touched those places in people's lives. I have touched places in our society where grief lives. I have done and seen things that most people never understand. Most people live in worlds where words don't really matter. I learned the hard way that they do. I learned the hard way how to tell a family member that someone has died.
So, watch your words. You never know what weight they carry as you speak them. You never know what people are needing to hear. You just never really know. I have learned the hard way. I have learned how to say the words that no one wants to have to say. I've learned how to speak the truth about a situation. I never want to walk away from someone, leaving someone else to give the words they need to hear.