A Different Kind  of Waiting…

Advent this year held a very differing kind of waiting.   This waiting did not take place in a softly lit sanctuary with candles and beautiful visuals.   My sisters and I experienced waiting by my mother’s bedside as she began the dying process.  And then, after her death we waited for family to arrive to celebrate her life and our memories.  

Advent anticipates a sacred birth, our dying vigil felt sacred too.   Hymns and anointing oils replaced Christmas carols and scents of pine and cinnamon.   Waiting is seldom easy.  I confess I don’t always appreciate the Advent waiting that becomes the focus of most Christian churches this season.  I love the beauty and the symbolism but I sometimes find it odd pretending we are waiting for the end of a story we already know.  Which itself is odd because seldom do I truly know the end to any story. This year every cell of my body felt the waiting, both symbolically and authentically.

We sensed our mother might be preparing to die weeks ago. While I welcomed her release from dementia and wheelchair, I dreaded all the steps involved in a final goodbye.  I feared I’d be too squeamish to keep vigil, and I was already feeling overwhelmed with holiday bustle.  

Waiting for death, as well as waiting for birth, can be inconvenient and bewildering. I resonate with Mary’s predicament: pregnant and anxious, her home preparations for birth were completely disrupted by the sudden trip to Bethlehem.  How hard it is to flow easily with disruptions!  No matter how apparent and normal the process, one is never fully prepared for birth or for death.  Neither can be experienced beforehand.

My mother began showing active signs of dying on Sunday, the same day I decided I could not keep a rescued dog I had come to love very much.  Cree, a striking colored Catahoula Leopard Dog, had too strong a prey drive for our farm.  Our barn and its equally loved critters held too many temptations. How could I give up my precious Cree at the same time I would be grieving the loss of my mother?

Waiting is dark and lonely.  Though warm hugs, words of encouragements and hot meals offered by supportive friends and family make waiting easier, no one could take my grief and experience it for me.   As a wise friend reminded me:  standing in the midst of it all is a process of choosing to let go of what I can’t fix or don’t need in order to embrace what is happening. 

My mom is gone now, as is Cree.  My home is empty of gathered family as my lap is empty of Cree’s big, warm body.  I have no silky ears to pet and no tongue to divert from licking my face.  I no longer have to think about when I will visit mom.  Whenever I mistakenly do so, my heart will feel a pang of loss just as when I spot a toy I forgot to send along with Cree. 

Relief, emptiness, grief and joy arise new every day like the stillness of dawn, the flutter of sparrow wings outside our door, and the aroma of bayberry when I light my Christmas candles.   There has always been a hint of death in the Christmas birth story. I will know that more fully now, just as I more fully have experienced waiting. 

I’m grateful mom is pain-free and rejoicing in another realm. I’m also grateful I don’t have to worry about Cree accidentally getting out and killing a goat.  I like to imagine Mom is with her two beloveds: Jesus and James.  And I imagine Cree in her new home, jumping up on someone she’s learning to love while wagging her whole body.   I’m overjoyed to report Cree has been adopted!   My dear mom and sweet Cree have gone ‘home’ for Christmas! 

Joyfully,

Sharon

                  Mom and my grand daughter, Avery at Conestoga House -12/2009

WE MISS YOU MOM, GRANDMA and CREE!!

                                             Or JRT, Massey with Cree (Catahoula Leopard Dog)

Images




My spirit sings this morning through images. As I cut and paste chickadees chirp, hop above me like tiny cheerleaders. A squirrel scolds. I nod to the bushy-tailed creature. "Sorry. Perhaps today I'm your invitation to deal with irritation."

The smell of incense colors the air. I've reverently pinned my pettiness and ungratefulness onto the sweet stick before lighting the match. Smoke, and my foibles rise up, curl, dissipate.  I smile. Yet, this little ceremony of naming and honoring what needs releasing in me brings contentment and a whispered good bye.  Adios. Adieu. Slainte!

I cherish time for myself, where my soul deepens, my inner senses sharpen. Where I see myself as I am, both my light and my shadow. I name, welcome, integrate each part of myself. Let go when I can.  Radically accept what I can't. Ask for grace.

Images speak softly. Beauty. Mystery. Creativity. Stillness. Reverence. Humor. Fun. Fear. Strength. Desire. Solitude. Innocence. New beginnings. Old egoic patterns. Joy.

Yes to all that is life!

Joyfully,
Sharon


"Everything belongs" Richard Rohr

"People are like stained glass windows: They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light within."  Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

Nothing to Lose But Our Illusions

 
Nothing to Lose But Our Illusions

The above is not my title.  I found it in an advertisement flyer for the The SUN magazine. The title belongs to Derrick Jensen interviewing David Edwards.  Here is segment of interview -

  
Edwards: Once you start to see through the myth of status, possessions, and unlimited consumption as a path to happiness, you'll find that you have all kinds of freedom and time. It's like a deal you can make with the universe: I'll give up greed for freedom. Then you can start putting your time to good use. 

Jenson: And if someone says, "But the problems are so big, what can one person do?"

Edwards: Once you realize that helping others is also helping yourself, the size of the overall problems becomes irrelevant. You're not a one-man or one-woman army out to save the whole world. You help simply because it does good and it feels good.

These words caught my attention.  I've experienced moments of wanting to change the world, save the world.  Sometimes I ponder what greed holds me.  And, who doesn't want freedom?  

In the last few months, I've felt clingy.  The interview invites me to examine the relationship between clinging and greed. Was there a hint of greed in clinging to my old, sick dog, not wanting to let her go, or in clinging to familiar patterns of family, friendships, church, relating to others and not wanting things to change even while purposefully making new decisions, excited by personal growth, opportunities and healing relationships?   How does one discern the difference between healthy emotions of grief, achingly longing for a better world and unhealthy nostalgic clinging or entitled wanting?   One's interior can be a tricky landscape.   

I had a physical experience of clinging recently, clinging to a rock wall!  A few weeks ago, under the expert guidance of my sister, Elle, and brother-in-law, Rich, I tried rock wall climbing using a rope and harness. Halfway up, I couldn't find the next hand/toe hold. I froze.  Every cell of my body, especially my fingers and toes, remembers the clinging.  I responded, “I can't!" when Rich instructed me to make the next move.  Like my experience of being stuck on that rock wall,  I've been interiorly frozen in place, gripping the familiar, holding onto my thoughts-ideals-wants, trying to be open and free but unable to make anything change exteriorly or interiorly, tiring, yet afraid to let go and lean into the harness of life.  

Long before the rock wall experience, back when I first climbed into some real unknowns in my life, I remember eagerly embracing the concept of living the questions.  I even felt some pride in my ability to be at peace amid the questions. Then, fatigue set in. Irritation and frustration followed.  I'm reminded of the iconic story of the children of Israel wandering in the desert for forty years. As a kid in Sunday school I remember tuning out that story – who can take the hundredth telling of all that Israelite complaining and grumping?   Now, I just smile, seeing the human condition, seeing my own weariness in barren places. Like the Israelites, I easily become my wants.  Even my high ideals can become wants.  Is this also greed?    

I sense some interior shifting. This sense of easing up began before my rock wall climb. The actual climb has become symbolic, a marking of my intention toward greater self-awareness and growth, a way for my body to help move my soul along. Elle tells me the body is made for this, but often I forget this wisdom. I’ve intentionally put my body in positions of trust through yoga moves, prayer prostrations, using the lovely wooden kneeling meditation bench a friend made for me, but I easily forget other physical activities like running, walking, exercising, body rolling, massage and wall climbing can move me along as well. Fully integrating body, mind and soul is my growing edge. Perhaps my religious ancestors were wise to get up from their church bench, turn around, kneel on the floor and face the back of the bench during corporate prayer.  

I want to lose my illusions, let go of greed and clinging, but I also want to honor the difficulty of the process and be gentle when I find myself holding on.  Sometimes I'm simply unaware that I cling. Self-awareness takes time, courage, solitude and practice.  I bow in gratitude for every one and every thing companioning me in this process: every teacher, guide, pastor, family member, dog, bird, mountain, rock, river, flower and tree...every illness and interaction...every song, poem, word, hug, interruption and experience.  Okay, I admit my mind recoiled when typing ’interruption.'  My heart is truer than my smaller self, wanting to let go of irritation when I'm interrupted, so I allow my fingers to say the message first and trust my soul will move in that direction.     

In reflecting, I always come back to trusting life will bring exactly what I need to flourish and grow; sometimes the moves will be easy, as were my first spider-like moves up that rock wall.  Sometimes it will take more courage than I have and others will need to pull on the rope and help me move. Occasionally, I'll have no other option but to completely let go and fall into the harness. Then real stuff not illusions will hold me. Love. Awareness. Authenticity. Trust. Beauty. Goodness. Truth.   
                                                                

Joyfully,
Sharon         all photos on this page are courtesy of Elle Beiling      

~We inhabit ourselves without valuing ourselves, unable to see that here, now, this very moment is sacred; but once it's gone, its value is incontestable.             ~Joyce Carol Oates

~Dependence on God is not submitting to a greater force, or surrendering to a God who makes me do things against my will, or who will discipline me for every intention not fulfilled; it is just loving this wonderful and weird created world, accepting life as it unfolds (not being a door mat though), embracing what is, learning from mistakes and allowing Love to grow, without believing the illusion that I'm in control of everything."  Sharon         

~Be transformed by the renewing of your mind...        ~ Saint Paul, Romans 12:2