On Loosening Our Grip...

It’s been on my mind a lot lately, but it kind of got annoying on the way to work this morning: 

“There’s no settling down, there’s only driving down state… so I drive…” ~ The Old 97’s 

There’s no settling down… 

It was already gnawing at me from the movie I sat curled up on the couch watching yesterday, Catch andRelease – all about how messy & fallible & unpredictable life & love can be, and how we pick up those pieces and keep trying. 

Life can’t be controlled… 

And, then, this gem of a reflection posted today: 

                A Moveable Feast 

I longed to know my place… 

This has been a season of being unsettled. And I have a strong wish-dream of stability that I have inflicted upon every season I have passed through. It manifests itself in my desire to control situations or, at the very least, myself. 

There is beauty in stability. It is good and nurturing and healthy. It is not, however, (nor has it ever been) my reality. And the fantasy that it will one day magically appear and nothing will ever go sideways again, keeps me from living fully and vulnerably in the daily moments and opportunities as they present themselves. 

I become Jay Gatsby, living in that always imagined yet never realistic future: 

“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter - tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms further...  And one fine morning - So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

So tonight I’m gathering with some folks for an informal “Beer &Brené” night. And I remind myself that people open themselves up to vulnerability, and change, and uncertainty all the time, and live to tell about it. I can look back on my life and see all the ways that interruptions & disappointments have shaped me and helped me to grow into the person I am today. I like the person I am today. So why would I shy away from taking chances? 

I’ve written a lot about anxiousness and control. And I write a lot about stability and rootedness. But I think, perhaps, I’ve created for myself an unnecessary ideal – an unconscious belief that if I can just get to season X, then all my rhythms will fall in step and nothing unexpected or jarring or stretching will ever creep in again. That’s utter bullshit. 

I love what Holly says in her poem above: “…perhaps, I should think of everywhere as the place that I might stay forever… for then there will always be a table upon which bread can be broken and new wineskins can be filled.” 

May we learn to hold loosely as we settle in to moments and seasons. May we not become like house plants that wither if their location suddenly changes. May we allow our roots to be nourished in each place we are planted so that, as we are uprooted and replanted, we continue to grow and flourish and bear fruit.

Spring: part 6 ~ celebrated

Spring: part 5 ~ released

Photo Credit: St. Scholastica Monastery

(…continued from yesterday.)

Entering the labyrinth path, I proceeded at a slow and steady pace, one foot in front of the other, between smooth stones and crunching dried pine needles. I started by tapping each finger one at a time on my leg, repeating the name of the person whose initial was on that fingertip, presenting them before the father.

Pacing the rhythm to my steps, I returned to the first finger and continued winding patiently through the path as I recounted the words that were spoken, the wounds that were cut, the actions that were taken.

Surprisingly, there was no fear, no anxiousness, no sorrow. The bitterness, anger, wounds and pride, indeed, had no power over me. God is greater than my heart, and he knew I was ready.

I repeated each name again, slowly, methodically, melodiously. Then I recited the name of each person’s spouse and, because they are one flesh, I went back through my fingers naming the person and their spouse together.

Once everything was out there, I began to pray forgiveness over each name:
“Lord, I surrender this person to you.
I surrender my need to change what happened,
I surrender my desire to control their actions,
I receive the responsibility to press on toward the goal, to follow your path.”

I lifted each name some more and, as I approached the center, I began rubbing each initial off my fingertips until they were no longer visible. I entered the center of the labyrinth, and I knelt at the feet of the father. One by one, I laid yellow wildflowers I had been carrying in my right hand, one for each person, at his feet, as well. I stood and opened my arms to his spirit. I silently recited several times, “You will go out with joy and be led forth in peace, the mountains and hills will burst forth in song.”

I took my pen and, where I had removed the initials, I inscribed the word “LOOSE” across my fingertips, and drew an open heart on my palm. I circled back out of the labyrinth, reciting scripture and singing hymns of praise, realizing the power to forgive, the awe-inspiring responsibility of forgiveness, comes not from my knowing how to release control, but through leaning on the grace and strength of Christ, my savior.

In the few days that have followed that encounter, it is not as if all memories have been replaced by rainbows and butterflies, but I can sense a change in my spirit. I’m less lethargic, my creative juices are flowing, and I haven’t been late for work all week (hey, that's something). I believe our father longs to release us from the burdens we willingly heap upon ourselves, to bring us fully into the freedom of his presence. If God created us, he knows our faults and our fears, and he formed our innermost being. As the psalmist says, he has searched our hearts, he knows us inside and out, we are fearfully and wonderfully made, wonderful works of his hands.

God knows our anxious thoughts, and yet he calls us to be anxious for nothing, to seek him first and trust him to take care of the rest.

Let us commit our spirits into his hands, whether they are spirits of condemnation, fear, or anxiety. Let us allow him to mold and transform them into spirits of joy, peace and grace. May we learn to forgive as we have been forgiven. May we learn to extend grace as we have received grace. May we grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord.

Spring: part 4 ~ initiated

Photo Credit: St. Scholastica Monastery

I wasn’t the one who did wrong.

I was hurt deeply, you see, so I deserved to feel this way.

And I planned to forgive them, but I didn’t know how. One and maybe I could have handled it. But not when each person’s injury was piled on top of the injuries that had come before. I’m not that strong.

I had books on my shelves that held pieces to the puzzle of forgiving, but I wasn’t quite ready to read them, certainly not to apply them. It wasn’t just the pain, it was the life changes I was forced to make because of each decision, each infliction, that was beyond my control.

But the Lord, he is a tricky thing.

I signed up for the prayer retreat because I love prayer. I love the conversation with my God. I love abiding in his presence, and listening and sharing. And I especially enjoy opportunities to get away to places of beauty and quiet, where I am free to give God my undivided attention.

Arriving at the retreat center, I was filled with joy. Entering the first session, I was filled with calm.

And then the invitation, to go around the room, to make introduction, and to answer the questions: Why are you here? What question will you take to God as you walk the labyrinth? What are you hoping to hear from him? What are you hoping to release?

Like a mother who has taken her child to the doctor on promise of ice cream (Oh, sure. There will be ice cream. But first, let’s go ahead and get these shots out of the way…), the element of surprise, no time to get anxious, just a quick pinch and then all will be well. And I’ll be here with you, holding your hand.

“It’s time,” God said.

“I know,” I replied.

And I did know, because the anxiousness was gone and his peace was present. Why was I there? What did I have to release? My firm grasp on a spirit of condemnation. I wanted to forgive, and I wanted to give up my need to control. I wanted to allow Christ to heal my hurt.

I really should have seen it coming. If I had brought my laptop, I could have looked back at the posts of the previous week and seen that God was leading me to this point. It’s not that I didn’t think I would get to a place of forgiveness, but I figured it would be down the road, after I had figured it all out and knew all the right words, and had sufficiently fortified myself against future attacks. In other words, I would forgive once I had regained control.

Saturday afternoon, after spending the morning reading scripture and resting, I wrote “loose” on my left wrist in thick black ink, for that was my intention. On each finger of my left hand, I inscribed the initial of someone whose debts I needed to forgive, whose actions I needed to release, whose sins I needed to loose. I approached the labyrinth, but I dared not enter. It wasn’t that I thought it was going to be a magical walk, but I knew it would be a powerful one. The path was designed so that I could simply follow, as I conversed with the creator of the universe. No big deal, right?

I circled once around the perimeter of the path, repeating “Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven; whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.”

And again, repeating “Whosoever you forgive, their sins will be forgiven; whosoever you do not forgive, their sins will not be forgiven.”

A third time, “Forgive, as you have been forgiven.“

Then, because I still did not feel ready (and because I had made reference to the film The Labyrinth the previous day), I circled, repeating to the evil one “You. Have. No. Power. Over. Me.”

And to his fruit, I proclaimed (circling once for each):
“Bitterness has no power over me.”
“Anger has no power over me.”
“My wounds have no power over me.”
“Pride has no power over me.”

The last circle before entering the labyrinth walk was “God is greater than my heart, and he knows everything.”

He knows how I was hurt. He also knows what was going on in the hearts and lives of those I have been unable to forgive. He knows how he will redeem every person and every situation.

I stood at the entrance to the path, took a deep breath, said a prayer for peace and began my pilgrimage.

(to be continued tomorrow…)

Spring: part 3 ~ constrained

excerpts from Madeleine L'Engle's The Irrational Season:

It is difficult to bless and not to curse when one's control of a situation is taken away.

It is only when I am not afraid to recognize my own brokenness, to say, "Turn us again, Lord God of hosts, cause thy face to shine and we shall be whole" - that the broken bones may begin to heal, and to rejoice. Without this phos hilaron, this joyous light, we fight against our impotence, in our spiritual lives, our intellectual lives, a large portion of our physical lives.

But in the small events of daily living, we are given the grace to condition our responses to frustrations... If our usual response to an annoying situation is a curse, we're likely to meet emergencies with a curse. In the little events of daily living we have the opportunity to condition our reflexes, which are built up out of ordinary things. And we learn to bless first of all by being blessed. My reflexes of blessing have been conditioned by my parents, my husband, my children, my friends.

Blessing is an attitude toward all of life, transcending and moving beyond words. When family and friends gather around the table to break bread together, this is a blessing. When we harden our hearts against anyone, this is a cursing. Sometimes a person, or a group of people, do or say something so terrible that we can neither bless nor curse. They are anathema. We put them outside the city walls, not out of revenge, not out of hate, but because they have gone beyond anything we fragile human beings can cope with. So we say, Here, God, I'm Sorry. This is more than I can handle. Please take care of it. Your ways are not our ways. You know what to do. Please.

*****

I was beyond any response of either blessing or cursing. But I knew that I couldn't go home until I had been washed clean of the hate... Feeling sick and cold I called Timothy and walked and walked... My dog knew that something had upset me. He kept close as we walked, instead of tearing off in great loops. We kept walking until I had come to the point where I could simply turn over to God whoever had [hurt me]. This person was beyond my puny human ability to understand. I could not add to the curse by cursing. But I did not know how to bless.

Spring: part 2 ~ birthed

Proverbs 8

Does not wisdom call out?

Does not understanding raise her voice?

At the highest point along the way, where the paths meet, she takes her stand; beside the gate leading into the city, at the entrance, she cries aloud:

“To you, O people, I call out; I raise my voice to all mankind. You who are simple, gain prudence; you who are foolish, set your hearts on it. Listen, for I have trustworthy things to say; I open my lips to speak what is right. My mouth speaks what is true, for my lips detest wickedness. All the words of my mouth are just; none of them is crooked or perverse. To the discerning all of them are right; they are upright to those who have found knowledge. Choose my instruction instead of silver, knowledge rather than choice gold, for wisdom is more precious than rubies, and nothing you desire can compare with her.

I, wisdom, dwell together with prudence; I possess knowledge and discretion. To fear the LORD is to hate evil; I hate pride and arrogance, evil behavior and perverse speech. Counsel and sound judgment are mine; I have insight, I have power. By me kings reign and rulers issue decrees that are just; by me princes govern, and nobles - all who rule on earth. I love those who love me, and those who seek me find me. With me are riches and honor, enduring wealth and prosperity. My fruit is better than fine gold; what I yield surpasses choice silver. I walk in the way of righteousness, along the paths of justice, bestowing a rich inheritance on those who love me and making their treasuries full.

The LORD brought me forth as the first of his works, before his deeds of old; I was formed long ages ago, at the very beginning, when the world came to be. When there were no watery depths, I was given birth, when there were no springs overflowing with water; before the mountains were settled in place, before the hills, I was given birth, before he made the world or its fields or any of the dust of the earth. I was there when he set the heavens in place, when he marked out the horizon on the face of the deep, when he established the clouds above and fixed securely the fountains of the deep, when he gave the sea its boundary so the waters would not overstep his command, and when he marked out the foundations of the earth. Then I was constantly at his side. I was filled with delight day after day, rejoicing always in his presence, rejoicing in his whole world and delighting in mankind.

Now then, my children, listen to me; blessed are those who keep my ways. Listen to my instruction and be wise; do not disregard it. Blessed are those who listen to me, watching daily at my doors, waiting at my doorway. For those who find me find life and receive favor from the LORD. But those who fail to find me harm themselves; all who hate me love death.”

Spring: part 1 ~ defined

• The season between winter and summer, characterized in temperate zones by the budding of trees, growth of plants, & onset of warmer weather

• The earliest time, first stage or freshest period

• To rise, leap, move or act suddenly and swiftly

• To be released from a forced or constrained position

• To come into being, rise, or arise within a short time

• To come into being by growth, as from a seed or germ, bulb, root, etc.

• To proceed or originate from a specific source or cause

• To take an upward course or curve from a point of support

• To start or rise from cover

• To shift or work loose

• The quality of elasticity or resilience

• Start, originate, emerge, emanate, issue, flow

• To move or cause to move suddenly upwards or forwards in a single motion

• To happen or cause to happen unexpectedly

• The act or an instance of moving rapidly back from a position of tension

• A device, such as a coil or strip of steel, that stores potential energy when it is compressed, stretched or bent and releases it when the restraining force is removed

• To release from imprisonment

• To pay for, to treat another

• To announce suddenly