Filled with Gratitude After Being Stopped in my Tracks

 

Today is Thanksgiving, and it is also my 48th birthday.  I am thankful to be alive, to have my two cats and my husband.  I am grateful for my friends and family who sent me messages and texts throughout my illness.  I say thank you for the prayers, and all of the love expressed.  As the Christian year has entered into a time of Holy Darkness, and the calendar year 2020 comes to an end,  I am grateful for Allan's and my new home in the country.  My heart fills with an appreciation for the time Allan spent planting, building, and putting things together to bring beauty and comfort to it.  Allan sacrificed a planned butterfly trip to Texas and adjusted his work schedule to care for me during my illness.   There were just so many unknowns.  

On the evening of October 23rd, I found myself at urgent care because of excruciating pain.  Next came the emergency room on the morning of October 24th.  The throbbing in my legs continued to worsen.  The steroid and morphine shots were given at the ER relieved the pain somewhat.  The urgent care ruled out the flu and COVID, for which I was grateful.  However, this meant that the pain I experienced resulted from an unknown illness.  The virus persisted, confining me to bed.   I could barely walk, sit, or stand-up.  No matter what I did, pain shot through my legs.  I survived on steroids and muscle relaxants, barely making it from one dosage to the next.  During that first week, I could see no end in sight.  More tests done at my doctor's office revealed nothing.  

The steroid regimen reached its competition by the following Friday.  The excruciating pain continued, and extra-strength Tylenol provided me with respite allowing me to sleep.  However, before I would stop counting down the hours and minutes until the next pill, it would be several more days.  After ten days of being in bed, I started to sit-up and moved around some. The pain disappeared, leaving me exhausted. Only this past week have I been able to resume my outside walks, with my best day being a little over 7000 steps.  I feel ever so grateful for my physical health.  I cannot imagine what it is like to live with chronic pain every single day of one's life.  Some days, I wondered if I could even survive until the next day.  I never received any specific diagnosis.  Whatever caused the pain has been described only as an unknown virus.    

This excruciating pain stopped me dead in my tracks, clearing my calendar. I could not even sit up at my computer for virtual meetings.  As I have gained strength, having an empty calendar brought unexpected freedom.  Lying in bed revealed places where priorities to be changed.  Having time to reflect on 2020 has opened my heart and mind to new possibilities in 2021.  As the sunsets on activities and relationships needing to be set free, I enter the unknown not in fear but excited for a new birth.

Where are the seeds germinating in your heart and mind?  What desert are you crossing? 

"May your holy creative tension live within us" - © Alexander John Shaia - 2020

Perhaps this concept, "May your[referring to Mother, Father, Wisdom. Divine],holy creative tension live within us," is one of the lessons of this year of intersection between pandemic/political polarization/racism and dysfunctional religion.  

All of these experiences can be overwhelming to the point of paralysis and yet as the Benedictines espouse, "always we begin again." There is never a day or a time or a place where we cannot let go of old messages and behaviors on both an individual and collective level. However, it begins with each of us claiming not a job or a duty but accepting an invitation to join in this holy creative Sometimes the invitation is to listen outside of our belief system. This morning, I found comfort and peace in the service of Lauds and Mass streamed live by the Glastonbury Abbey in MA. 

 Do I share the theology of these monks? No, but I cannot draw strength from their unwavering commitment to their divine purpose and their practice of holy creative tension as they bring ancient liturgy to Facebook live.  

The monk who gave the homily this morning spoke of Jesus desiring us to view, "the law as tutor or as sign."  If I view  "the law as sign"  and I consider a piece of my call, to the let the holy creative tension of the Divine live within me, then perhaps I need to stop judging myself and others so harshly.  For it is only when we release the voices of judgment that the voices of guilt and shame can be silenced.  The destructive voices can be  replaced by an expansive space of primal energy, of creativity and of shalom.  It is in this expansive place, that we can experience the Divine, the Christ, the One Breath across time, space and gender.  These are earthly distinctions which can entangle us. May the law be our sign, our direction and not our hindrance.  May it be a law of love extending a climate of mercy speaking to the holy creative tension within one and all.  In the words of Alexander John Shaia, "May We All Be One." 

Moos: Keep Listening

"Moo" - I heard the cows from across the road say this morning as I sat outside and drank my coffee. A quick glance at the reasons why cows moo suggests that the primary reason was unhappiness.  However, cows are also complex social animals so we as humans cannot necessarily decipher all of their mooing.  This is how I have felt recently that I cannot decipher or understand all that is being said.  As an educated white woman living in the quiet of the country with a husband who is still working and a family that is healthy,  I am insulated from many of the world's ills. 

 I am grief-stricken, heart-broken and beyond angry all at the same time.  Yet I have no words because I cannot make sense of it all nor do I understand because I haven't been in the shoes of those who have lost jobs. those whose loved ones have died, those who have been discriminated against, those who have been wrongly incarcerated or those whose voices have been silenced.

No answers came from the trees or from the lunchtime Quaker meeting I attended. Now I sit in my office writing.  As I hear the fan blowing behind me, I feel the leaves scattering within my soul asking where is the wind taking us? 

I hold onto the Divine Knowing, to the Christ who exists outside of space of time and space and the gift of revelation through creation.  And the answer remains, "Listen,", plant your feet in the grass watching the rising and the falling of the sun. 

I claim the word, "Moo" as my message from of the scriptures of the Earth to pay attention and listen.

Ode to the Great White Egret

Ode to the Egret

I am the Great White Egret
I stand firmly in the mud
Unaware of sickness and death
The flooded fields make prime real estate
Void of destruction and loss of tribe
I enjoy the warmth of the sun
Absence of noise
Less Paparazzi
I love my silence and solitude
Food shortages absent
Crayfish and Frogs Abound
I see my family when I need them
Friends drop by sharing food and drink
Social distancing an abstract concept
I relax gazing at the distant sky
Humans never cross my mind

Endings and Beginnings - Gethsemani to Resurrection

Today as I sit in front of my computer and here the birds sing, I contemplate and remember my Monday morning, the time of leaving the Abbey of Gethsemani.  I wanted to attend all of the services before we left and so I set my alarm on Sunday night.  I managed for one last time the trek up to the church for Vigils.  However, this morning was different. I had read that twice a week the monks observed Vigils in total darkness.  Today this Monday morning was one of those times.

The monks entered and the lights went completely off.  I could not look at my booklet but could only listen to the one speaking, the one whom the spotlight illuminated.  Having it in the dark changes the focus.  I experienced Vigils as a reminder of how I cannot experience the light without the dark.  The light and the dark both have limits too much of either creates distortions.  In connecting with the Cistercians of the past by remembering Vigils as taking place in the dark before artificial lighting, the monks reflect an intuitive knowledge of light and dark.  The places of the known no more lessen our fears than the unknown creates them.  The essence lies in attentiveness and obedience to vocation. 

While my Vigils experience deeply affected me, it did not take away my exhaustion from the  combination of the time change and my staying awake all day Sunday aided by the continual consumption of caffeine.   Thus returning to my room, I set up my alarm for Lauds but somehow turned it off falling back asleep until 7 a.m. almost missing breakfast.  As I rushed to breakfast and sat down at the table in silence with my husband, I felt like I was back at home already, the hustle and bustle of the outside world crept in.   However, in the taking of the time to write some more postcards so I could mail them at the Abbey because who would be foolish enough to miss out on the monks paying the postage and  walking around the grounds one more time, I felt at peace climbing into the car heading down the road to Abraham Lincoln's birthplace.

Foregoing checking the latest news regarding the Corona Virus on my phone, I picked up my copy of the Merton Annual. After the introduction are a series of letters exchanged by Brother Patrick Hart and Father Louis aka Thomas Merton.  Reading these letters sent me back to the standing in front of Patrick Hart's fresh grave in the cemetery.  The grass not having grown back yet, the brown dusty soil reminding me that the loss of this Brother, a long-time member of their community,  remained fresh in the hearts and minds of many. Another era had ended. 

And somehow for me, Lent/Easter seems to be a time of the soil showing.  Ash Wednesday 2014, the day we receive ashes, reminding us of  our beginnings coming from the dirt and our lives being continually nourished by the dirt, our family attended church together for the last time. That Friday our daughter walked out of our lives bringing to a close an era that would never return. Last year, 2019 right before Palm Sunday, my mother-in-law passed away changing the lives of the Trently family forever, an end of the era and the beginning of the new.
 Now at this present moment in 2020,  together around the world we are faced with the Corona virus and the ever-growing changes a pandemic brings. 

Thus as Holy Week and Easter approach slowly makes it way to Pentecost, I come full circle returning to Merton and the Merton Annual, in which  Joseph Q. Raab, ends his introduction with these words, "As you enjoy the articles here, may you gently be reminded, and consoled by the fact, that being in your 'right mind' has little to do with being 'perfectly adjusted'.  The mad world needs the weird ones to bring back home some real sanity." In echoing words of Thomas Merton in 2019  the Corona virus did not exist on Raab's radar let alone on Merton's when he penned, Raids of the Unspeakable.  I would  suggest that for us in  April, 2020 amidst this pandemic, that these words are a consolation and a reminder to be part of the Resurrection not the madness.   

For it is in these moments that Christ makes all things new.  The green grass returns leading us to a new place towards Resurrection.   Christ's illuminated presence meets us in our humanity unbinding us in a way that our life experiences, the dirt, become an outlet for compassion to the world.  The grief, the sadness and the pain lessen not by going away but by allowing Christ to transform us by moving through the challenges of life not clinging tightly to them. 


May Christ's perfect peace be with you.

Abbey of Gethsemani - Day 4 - Changing Times

It is Sunday at the monastery but it is also the first weekend in March and time to turn our clocks ahead for daylight savings time.  So yes the monks do participate in daylight saving time. Saturday evening Father Carlos announced that they turn their clocks back after Vigils meaning that instead of having two hours  between Vigils and Lauds there is only one hour.

I awake and go to Vigils again taking in this darkness preparing us for a new day.  After I arrive back at my room, I decide since I have only have one hour until Lauds thus I will remain awake.  I take a shower and do some reading.   After Lauds we head downstairs to breakfast.  My husband and I still sit in front of the windows even though it is dark.  I suggest that after breakfast since we have a about two hours until mass.

We head outside bundled up and walk around to stay warm until the sun comes up and how beautiful it is.  On Sundays, it is Terce and then mass, starting at 10:20 a.m. with everything else being slightly later.  It is beautiful saying the Psalms and then being led into the church sitting behind the monks watching the processional and seeing some of them wearing the purple vestments.  Light streams through the window above us and Christ comes alive nourishing us.
We enjoy Sunday lunch while watching the birds and head outside. My husband and I go our separate ways since I had decided that I was going to attend None at 2:15 p.m.  I go outside and walk through the cemetery.  I walk and find a place to sit.  I I look at Merton's grave thinking about his writings, his epiphany and his commitment to his life as a monk.
Wonder is my word for 2020.  I take this time to wonder and observe.

I notice the time and quickly hurry inside feeling somewhat silly at rushing.  In fact I even get a smile from someone in the elevator.  I return to the church joining the monks in None noticing how it seems to fit, a shorter liturgy but no less a remember of God's presence.  It is still a meaningful praying of the psalms however I recognize that my heart absorbs more when I enter slowly and more settled.

I go to get a cup of coffee because by this time having not taken a nap which I realize in retrospect I probably should have observed meridian time like the monks to.  Instead, I resort to a snack and caffeine, watching the birds and meeting up with my husband for another joint walk.

As I wait for him in the lobby,  the monk manning the desk strikes up a conversation with me.  He tells me about how he came to Gethsemani from being a parish priest adding that he was drawn to the Abbey and contemplative life because of the community.   The view of the priesthood being lonely  had escaped my notice.   I did know however from my various experiences with silence that I valued the times when I united with others in silence.

I expressed to him how I felt distracted by wondering about the monks' life and he said that I needed to think about the Abbey as being their home.  He asked me, would I walk into someone's home and begin asking questions about everything. Of course not I said, it would be rude.  The concept of the Abbey being the monks' home escaped me somehow.

Another a wonderful opportunity happened while I stood there at the desk, a young man came up and the monk introduced him as Ty who had come to the Abbey as a inquirer.  I told Ty I would be praying for him as I felt so excited that there were young men desiring to gave to the Abbey.  Ty also mentioned that he had make a trip to Merton's hermitage of which I envied him.

I took another walk with my husband and headed across the road viewing the Abbey from a top of the hill.  We walked around a while heading back inside both needing a break before vespers and dinner.
Being extremely tired by this time, after dinner, I took one more walk outside, skipped Compline and practically fell into bed.  What a day, a filled with the richness of observation and conversation, of prayer and worship, of community and individuality and by the end feeling crazy because I had stayed awake way too long.  

Time Alive: Revolutionary Lent and Lazarus Sunday

In the 100 days of Lent/Easter/Pentecost, the focus is on theosis, that we have the love of God within us and are moving toward holiness.   How do we use this time?  What is our intention?  Christine  Valters Painter in her work speaks of sacred time, of connecting across time and space, that we always need to be mindful of kairos and not caught so caught up in chronos.

In recent weeks, with the onset of the Coronavirus Pandemic, many people are thinking about what the meaning of their lives is and how best to use their time while they are on lockdown at home.  Recently, on the show, Marketpla6ce on NPR, Kai Ryssdal asked the questions, "what is time?" and "does time mean anything'?  as he discussed the new normal, the ever changing Nasdaq and Dow Jones Industrial Average.  Perhaps this is a time to consider how much we live by the clock rather than by the sacred rhythm of Christ.  How much more time do we gain by rushing against time and by worrying about has come, or what might come?

Many times, it often seems that each and every one of us has our own idea of time.  The same folks are super on time for their work meetings, think that when you say to meet you at a restaurant at 6:30 p.m. that you mean 6:45 p.m. or 7 or even 7:15 p.m.  Some of us take personal offensive when some one is even one of two minutes late.  Some doctors' offices make you re-schedule your appointment if you are more than 15 minutes late.
 In this Sunday's Gospel, Martha thought that Jesus was late.  She believed that Lazarus would not have died if Jesus had been there.  Martha could not figure out why Jesus did not come four days earlier when she asked him to.  Yet when Jesus got there, he asked to be taken to the tomb and then at the tomb, Jesus rolled the stone away and called to Lazarus, "come out." When Lazarus came out, Jesus told the others present to unbind him and unroll the bandages.  Lazarus still had time to live.  I often wonder what Lazarus did with that time.

How do we understand time?  In these days of being in our houses and not going out, it is important for us to pay attention to kairos time and seek a new rhythm of life in God's timing not ours.  I have entitled this picture, "Time Alive" after a book written by Alexandra Stoddard, columnist, interior designer and inspirational speaker.   She writes, "when we spend time with someone, we should give the encounter 100 percent of our focused energy. When we're prepared--in mind, body and spirit--we'll be co-creators in a pleasant, meaningful exchange, experiencing the heart of time."

Are we giving God 100% of our attention?  Are we listening and co-creating or are we staying in the tomb keeping ourselves and others bound in old ways that no longer work?

I know for me I have found I feel most alive when I am writing but also when I am spending time with others especially one on one and yet somehow often myself having a half day go by without me doing anything renewing or life-giving.  My word for this year is wonder, so as I wonder, I need to wonder what  is being made anew and what I am re-claiming.