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aging, capable, grace, life, Meg Wheatley, opportunities, partner, perseverance, relax, surrender, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, trust, wisdom
I’ve been engaged in a number of conversations lately where the topic has been the need to let go of what we can’t control – like the weather and the march of time (specifically our aging process). This morning I opened Meg Wheatley’s little book, Perseverance, to a page called “Life Is Life” and found there some words worth my time and reflection. Perhaps we can all benefit from her wisdom.
Instead of working so hard to actively construct our lives, we could relax with the opportunities that life provides, both the good and the bad ones. People who have this type of relationship with life truly are more relaxed. The seeming loss of control doesn’t create anxiety or feelings of distress. It does the reverse, it creates feelings of ease and clarity – and the capacity to stay.
Surrendering to life offers some wonderful realizations. We learn we’re capable of being in this dance, of working with whatever happens. We learn to trust ourselves and then others and, gradually, we learn that life itself can be trusted.
The grace of surrender offers us the awareness that life is on our side, that life is our partner. Whatever may be happening in our private worlds, inside the noise and disturbance, a lovely realization dawns.
Life wants us here. (p. 117)
When I was in elementary school at Our Lady Help of Christians parish, it was the custom on our tests (and probably other written work) to place a small cross at the top of the page and underneath to print JMJ (Jesus, Mary, Joseph). I don’t remember being instructed each time to do what was most likely supposed to become a habit of dedicating our work to the Holy Family but I suspect for many of us it was either a desperate prayer for help or a desire to be seen as pious. Later on, as we grew into the upper grades and got more sophisticated, the letters changed to AMDG (Ad majorem Dei gloriam = for the greater glory of God). Knowing the meaning in English was easier than remembering the Latin words, at least until we got to high school. It wasn’t until much later that I learned how famous that phrase was.
Sometimes it can be very comforting to read the letters of Paul in the Scriptures, like today when he speaks about his ego getting the best of him. When that happens, he notes that there’s always something that reminds him of his fallible nature. When he begs God to make him better (Sound familiar??) God’s response is amazingly reassuring and loving. We would do well to believe God says the same to us. Listen and see if you can rest in both parts of the answer.
The weekend just ended brought both old friends and new faces to our tiny “island of grace” (the way I see our small retreat center these days). The privilege of preparing meals for them allowed me observation time of their interactions with one another and the alternation of their movements to and from the conference room – so often peppered with “thank you” or smiles of appreciation for every little thing. I cannot help feeling judgments about people melt from me as I observe the gifts that diversity brings to a retreat where everyone is desirous of spiritual growth. The ways that people dress or speak or choose their food are all overshadowed by the blinding light of their intention toward unity with the Divine (however they perceive the One I call God).
Today is a day that calls for living in the moment…but is also prompting me to remember the consistent goodness of God: past, present and future. The grass couldn’t be greener, the sun is full up and drying the dew, the promise of the meteorologists is for a perfect late spring day. The psalmist sings: Each day I bless you, God of all; never will I forget the good that you have meant to me. (PS 103:2) I think of the graced conversations of yesterday – each one giving me something to think about or thank God for, so that the feelings and sensations of such a blessed day remain. While holding it all lightly, willing for the encounters to be like deposits in my spiritual bank account, I look toward today with a willingness to accept whatever befalls me. It is my hope to remember all day long that wonderful reality – also called to mind by Psalm 103 – that we swim in mercy as in an endless sea.
Psalm 103 calls for blessing not only for us but from us and from all of creation. We are to bless the Lord as the Lord blesses us. In addition, we ought to be sending out blessings to all people not just in God’s name but in our own. “God bless you” has been a familiar phrase throughout my life but what has sounded like shorthand for that (“Bless you!”) has recently gained new significance for me.
This morning as I clicked on my usual first source for inspiration, the US Catholic Bishops’ listing of lectionary readings for the day, I read April 24, 2018 – Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Easter. I needed to go no further with that as a prompt. I thought of how quickly this year seems to be passing and was grateful that the daffodils have finally bloomed along the side of our house. It’s impossible to go by them without smiling; their bright yellow faces sing “Hello!” with such enthusiasm. At the same time I wondered how conscious I am each day of still celebrating the Easter feast. The readings from the Acts of the Apostles help, of course, as they are full of the vibrant stories of the first disciples and the remarkable happenings as they traveled around spreading the good news of Jesus. Today, in chapter 11, there is word of Barnabas, “a good man, filled with the Spirit and faith,” who was sent to Antioch where “a large number of people was added to the Lord.” As sort of a postscript to all the recounting there, the text ends with the monumental statement that “it was in Antioch that the disciples were first called Christians.”
Barbara Bush died yesterday. I spent some time last night reading the internet accounts of her life but what drew me more than the words were the photos chronicling her life for the past 92 years. I watched her grow from a sweet-faced youngster through her child-bearing years into old age. It was in her last years that I found the most beauty shining in her face. I may be prejudiced but – as was noted in the accounts of her life – it was her brilliant white hair that was her most striking feature. It gave her the dignity and softness of a woman who had lived a full, rich life, knowing great joy and sorrow in her children and the love of a spouse for 73 years. When her second son was poised to enter the race for the presidency of the United States she remarked that perhaps the country had had enough Bushes in the White House but then was willing to campaign tirelessly for Jeb until he withdrew his candidacy. I loved the lesson in that.
6:37AM: Very dark outside. Very cold in my bedroom. A day to hunker down under a mountain of blankets, one might say. But I’m awake and moving with thoughts of gratitude for the promise of two days of work that is not burdensome. Rather I look forward to the creativity of planning with my “Wisdom Team” for the events that help us and those who participate in these retreats to go deeper into life in the Spirit. The work is greater than anything we could conjure ourselves and it is always a joy and privilege to see where it takes us. Today is a new beginning and I find myself singing silently a familiar chant:
I doubt I will ever read Psalm 119 from beginning to end in one sitting. It’s the longest one, 176 verses in all. Each section begins with a letter of the Hebrew alphabet in succession, rather like our singsong game of “A, B, C, D…” where we learned to expand and fill in with words like “A my name is Alice, my husband’s name is Al, we come from Alaska and we sell Artichokes.” (Next person) “B my name is Bertha…” (Goodness! It’s been a long time since I thought of that! What a wonder that my mental rolodex flipped it out without hesitation!)