Let it Go

I have a little shadow, and her name is Maryn.  There's nothing better than hearing her glee when I come home from work, and receiving her full-body hugs.  I adore hearing all the stories of her day and knowing that she wants to snuggle with me first thing in the morning and last thing at night.  But there are times when it becomes a little much.  Like the other night when I tucked the kids into bed, cleaned up, got everything organized for the next day, and finally took a long-awaited relaxing bath.  But she just wanted to be with me, and escaped from bed, snuck downstairs, and took her spot beside the bathtub, refusing to budge.  She even fell asleep on the bathroom floor when I would not get out and tuck her back in.  She clings so tightly and sometimes I balk at her need and want her to let go a little so that I can have just a little time to myself.

It's hard when I have to leave and worry how she will respond without me there, when I feel the guilt of wondering if I'm giving her all she needs.  Someday I know the fear will be reversed, and I'll be wondering how I will make it as she goes away to live her own independent life.

Life is a continual process of letting go, but the experience is not natural in the sense of it feeling easy.  We struggle through the pain of letting go of expectations and dreams when they don't pan out, and relationships that evolve.  We move through one stage and another, growing and learning lessons that change who we are.

Sometimes we're aware of the necessity of letting some things go: attitudes, habits, things that keep us stuck.  I've had the empowerment ballad of the day, "Let it Go", on repeat since seeing the movie "Frozen" numerous times, and I can identify with Elsa's fear that keeps her isolated, and the freedom she experienced when she let go of others' expectations.  But for many of us, that's a daily battle, and we spend much of our lives locked behind frozen doors of our own making.  More often, it seems like we are in denial about the ties that bind us.  Sometimes we hang on so tightly to our beliefs, to our need to be right, to our vision of how things should be that we become frozen where we are, unable to grow, bend, or change to meet the needs in front of us.

This is a challenge for me, and also a reminder to show grace to those who are fighting the same battle.  As I selected a card from the The Language Of Letting Go card deck (by Melody Beattie), this was my what I found helpful:

"Today I will search for my own truth, and I will allow others to do the same.  I will value the worth of my own vision and the vision of others.  We are all on our own paths, making the decisions that are right for us today."

Many know the familiar serenity prayer which talks about changing what we can and letting go of what we can't (with God's help), but I learned that there's more to it that the often quoted opening:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

--Reinhold Niebuhr

It's hard to see hardship as the pathway to peace.  It's frustrating to take the world as it is, not as I would have it.  But the hardest thing for me may be trust.  I have a lot to learn from my girl who trusts that all will be well if she is by my side.  May I remember that all is well when we stay by God's side.

For today, I will hang on to this: God, help me to change what is mine to change, and to let go of the rest, entrusting it to you.  Amen.

Wisdom card by Suzanne Vinson of silvertreeart

When you've had enough

It's a little ironic that I'm about to do a training for student leaders on finding balance in our busy lives, discerning how to best use our time, and learning when to say "no" to some things so that we can say "yes" to others.  It makes sense that I would share about this--as a chaplain, I'm frequently encouraging others to find spaces of sanctuary for rest and renewal and to care for their entire self; body, mind, and soul.  And yet, I struggle to practice what I preach.  I chose "enough" as my one word for 2014, hoping the reminder that I'm enough would allow me to say "enough" and step back from overcommiting.  But as my phone buzzes to tell me that it's time to leave for the training, my mind feels cluttered and my body is sluggish.

Returning from the training, I feel more hopeful and energized, and I realize that I actually heard myself for once.  As I engaged with these inspiring and busy young women, I warned with them the truth that I have learned: No, you can't have it all, at least not at the same time.  But that's actually a gift.  The past season of my life, full of transitions and unexpected shifts, has taught me the joy in stepping back and doing less (sometimes because I had no choice).  Through this I've observed that when I become more intentional about my choices, my life can be lived more fully through my passions and strengths.  When I'm no longer trying to fit a mold of the perfect wife/mother/career woman, I can be authentically who I am created to be.  To my frustration, that person is flawed and falliable, but to my relief, I still find acceptance and love.  I have learned that lesson the hard way, and told of my struggles today to hopefully save the students the same difficulty, but I'm afraid it's a lesson we all have to fight our way through.  

As I shared with them about calling and my favorite Frederick Buechner quote ("The place to which God calls you is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet"), I realized again my own calling to journey with young women as they seek their vocation.  It is a sacred (and often exhausting) gift of deep gladness.

I'm currently reading Tsh Oxenreider's new book Notes From a Blue Bike as I work to be more intentional in my lifestyle.  Check out this trailer for more information:

Notes From a Blue Bike is written by Tsh Oxenreider, founder and main voice of The Art of Simple. It doesn’t always feel like it, but we DO have the freedom to creatively change the everyday little things in our lives so that our path better aligns with our values and passions. Grab your copy here.

Wholly Holy

Do you ever strive to be holy, but end up feeling holey instead?  That's where I stand right now as I try to discern where God is leading us through this difficult church season (for more about this, read here and here).  I'm not so sure what I'm sure about anymore.  As I struggle to reconcile what I believe about the church to the reality I encounter, all that once was sacred now feels empty.

In the meantime, I've been working on a sermon for another church that addresses the Holiness Codes in Leviticus 19.  Leviticus is best known as the book that derails any attempt at reading straight through the Bible with all its attention to arcane laws: you shouldn't wear clothing of mixed fibers, don't boil a calf in its mother's milk, and the gory details of appropriate animal sacrifices.  The section I'm studying is a little more familiar as many of these rules compare to the more familiar and revered 10 commandments.  The part that most intrigues me is the very beginning: "Be holy as the LORD your God is holy."  It leaves me wondering what holiness really involves.

I grew up hearing that "holy" meant being set apart.  God's people were to be held to a higher standard, leading to the saying that we should be "in the world, not of it".  That never cleared up the confusion for me, but it did explain the growth of the Christian subculture, including the Christian music genre (where Jesus' name was inserted into sub-par pop love songs), and the prevalence of Jesus tchotchkes at the local Bible store.  Apparently, "the world" was evil, so we needed to retreat to the safety of a faith that provided a clean line between what was right and what was wrong.  It felt safer to feel like we had the answers and that we were on the right side of the battle.  Somewhere along the way, however, I became less sure.  The world, as I learned more about it, seemed less black and white and more technicolor.  The simple answers no longer brought comfort, but only prompted more unanswerable questions.  It could have been terrifying, but it felt like freedom.  I didn't lose my faith, but felt it expanding, growing, broadening.

Because of this openness within me, it didn't make sense to wall myself off and erect boundaries to keep others out.  It seemed that Jesus was always reaching out, getting in trouble for hanging out with the sinners and breaking all the rules.  But he did so with a spirit of hospitality and love, welcoming all to experience the freeing good news of grace.  It seemed hypocritical to judge who was of God and who wasn't as I believed we were all created in God's image and all were offered the gift of forgiveness.

But I still couldn't make sense of what it meant to be holy like God is holy.  The God I trust is not set apart, but is close with us (Emmanuel).  This God is not exclusive, but welcoming to all seekers.  The Holy One does not respect the boundaries of what is secular and what is sacred, but comes to meet us in the ordinary and extraordinary, wherever we are.  I stumbled across this article that talked about the Jewish understanding of the word holy ("kadosh" in Hebrew) which is more about being boundless, not able to be contained.  The image that comes to my mind in from Isaiah 6 in which God's holiness filled the temple.  God is not bound by our expectations or boundaries, but works in surprising and mysterious ways.

It makes more sense that holiness should be about reaching out and drawing others closer than pushing them away.  It is about joining over commonalities than dividing over differences.  We are to love our neighbors as ourselves...not just as we want to be loved, but sharing them honor and respect because they are people just like us.  In our worship, we should be able to connect others to the love and grace of God instead of the pain of judgment.  After all, we can only point the finger at others and demand their repentance when we are somehow able to forget that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.  We can only deny admittance to others when we have convinced ourselves (falsely) of our righteousness.

It's not easy, and it goes against every human instinct within me.  I want to protect myself by walling myself off to any risk.  Connecting seems terrifying when I don't know who can be trusted.  Being open to the mystery of God also means admitting that I don't have the answers and can't be sure of anything.  But it opens my life to the fullness that I believe Jesus was pointing to.

It's interesting to me that holy has the homonym "wholly", and they share common roots that give us these synonyms: sacred, complete, unhurt, fully, focused, restored, total, healthy, unbroken, and perfect.  We are holy when we are whole, when we seek a healthy and full life unbounded by the world's restrictions.  We are wholly holy when we live life fully as God created us, using our passions, gifts, and calling in service of God and our neighbors.  We are holy and whole when we trust God to fill the holes in us and heal those hurts that would become reasons to further divide us from others.    We are not to remain distant out of some sense of righteousness, but to see that we are all connected by our deep need for God's love.

May we learn to seek and share that together, being holy as the LORD our God is holy.

For the next part of this series, click here.