Grace...my word for 2021. It's a word where, if tangible, I would, like a warm, cozy blanket, wrap it around my shoulders for the days ahead. I love this word and yet, it's one that I cannot grasp, something which I am not always generous to give to others and that which I find seemingly impossible to give to myself.
The biblical definition would define grace as God's unmerited favor.
Webster's Dictionary would list "the exercise of love, kindness, mercy, favor; disposition to benefit or serve another, favor bestowed or privilege conferred."
Grace covers a lot of ground. It's beautiful, powerful, deep, lavish and much more.
At times, I wonder if I'm not more like the Israelite's in the Old Testament, trying to keep their 613 laws. But Jesus brought free flowing grace, so why oh why do I resist?!
As I said, grace covers a wide expanse of territory. Henri Nouwen writes, "I am gradually learning that the call to gratitude asks us to say, 'everything is grace.'" Really??? Everything???
I vividly remember my Spiritual Director introducing me to this re-framing of life by referring to circumstances, however complicated or painful, as "a grace of God." That somehow, God would use even "this" in a redemptive way.
All of this wholly challenges me and reminds me that I am barely at the fringe of understanding, embracing and living out of grace.
So what a beautiful word to grow into as this calendar year begins!
Why wouldn't my Grace-filled God desire to pour out this gift on the pages of my life?!
We should be afraid, of course,
to be so near to God.
We should be startled by the glory of God
and the disruption of angels.
We should be freaked.
out. that God even blinks
in our direction, let alone that God dares us
to walk a new path just to see what
God can do with life.
“Do not be afraid; have a child.”
“Do not be afraid; leave your home.”
“Do not be afraid; give up your reputation.”
“Do not be afraid; press on through hardship.”
“Do not be afraid; face a powerful enemy.”
Or,
be afraid.
Be totally overwhelmed.
Be stunned and terrified, in fact,
but here’s the critical part:
My spirit is overflowing this quiet evening. Beautiful, deep, powerful, spilling over so that I can hardly even put words to it all.
Time has traveled full circle and I didn't notice until today. The way loss has threaded through the last fifty years is so vivid in my mind's eye. Memories in rapid succession are replaying.
We went to the farm today, Dad and my sister Charmaine and I. The farm signifies the beginning of a family and it was also the ending of another. This beautiful acreage of land housed the height and depth of life.
Just miles away is that time-frozen intersection where I lost my mother in what I will always refer to as a tragedy. In an instant my father wore the label of widower of three small children.
In a city, some 60 minutes away a devastated widow with a toddler and baby was already six weeks into grieving the sudden loss of her husband.
Four months later the farm saw the beginning of a new family; two families blending together, desiring to write another story.
Five years later, the joyous arrival of a sixth child, wove us together in fresh and healing ways.
The farm was eventually sold many years later and over time our blended family has changed and grown giving each of us opportunities to write our own unique stories.
Today also marked nine months since Mom died. It has been days and weeks and months of grief work and the ensuing adjusting to how our family looks now. I still don't know how it all looks. This full circle of time began to encircle me.
The three of us journeyed here today desiring to salvage some of our "days gone by" and recreate tangible memories for the future. The landscape is entirely different. The house, barn, garage and property have not been cared for far too long, leaving it in a saddened run-down state. But we knew this and were prepared. And so with crowbars and hammers, a drill and muscles, we came away with some of that which framed our growing up years. There were two workhorses in the group and I was NOT one of them!! haha
I'm not sure that we spoke a formal farewell. It felt natural to drive down the lane way with our treasures and a heap of reminiscing that accompanied their gathering. The days of our beloved farm are part of the present only in our reflecting. The physical place that was our rural home for 20 plus years is not how we left it. What we do have left are millions of moments which have marked us and shaped is into the people we are today. The farm will forever be a part of who I am.
Soon after we arrived, I began referring to this place of wonder as "sanctuary."
Our friends were gifted a home numerous years ago. They steward their "Gift House", renting it to family and close friends. It's housed on 26 acres of land, primarily forest, and in this season of autumn, it's a magical wonderland.
By definition, sanctuary means a place of refuge or safety, a nature reserve, a holy place, to name a few. Whether within the walls or out of doors, I was in "sanctuary." I had needed this refuge, the stillness, the respite. I was unplugged from the world and drinking in the bliss of ignorance. I believe this is okay at times, and for me it's necessary and life-giving. I was Covid-weary and feeling worn down by a steady stream of "life. Sometimes when I go away, the fatigue in my spirit lingers. Not so this time. By our first evening, the cloak had lifted, and I began to embrace the freedom.
I had given myself permission for the easing of routines in ways I rarely allow. I did not open my Bible the entire time we were there. Did I just say that out loud??!!! My prayer list too, was set aside and I instead prayed over what was brought to mind. Every so often my disciplines seem to need a reset and this particular week called me to this.
I sat with God in a welcoming, sturdy rocking chair, walked with Him through the falling leaves and was in awe of the myriad of ways He spoke to me. I gained a new and much need perspective and was reminded that my life story does not stand on its own, but is tied to His story. Both are redemptive. I became aware of ways in which loss and gain are tied together. I was surprised and grateful for the hidden places He exposed in me--it meant He desired to heal yet another walled off edge. I experienced the beautiful reworking of what wholeness can look like. Though so much is out of my control, God revealed in fresh ways, the choices within my realm of control and this was strengthening.
We are home now, a week already. It's been up and down as I have adjusted to the routines of life and also take part in the stories unfolding in the present. I have always bemoaned how quickly the everyday overtakes a stretch of quiet filling. This time, I think I was more accepting and realistic upon re-entry. There are places in my home which are "sanctuary" and I am being careful to spend time there. Ultimately, God is my sanctuary, a place of refuge, safety and wonder--wherever I am.
I messaged a friend the other day, reminding us both of life in our early 20's when the days were carefree and simple. Sitting on our dormitory beds eating chips, chocolate bars and Diet Coke(balance) was a favorite pastime and our greatest stressors were a paper due the following day or a test we might not have studied enough for. Thirty plus years later we're in the midst of the season of aging parents and the heartache and difficult complexities of disease and decline and the dying of our loved ones.
I live in an 11 story condo with another aging family. The culture here is warm and familial and I have varying degrees of awareness of the sadness many are facing.
Living in this pandemic world has heightened the challenges and issued forth fresh, never-before-imagined pain.
It's been six months since I've seen my mother-in-law in her Long Term Care home. Six months! She lives in a beautiful family environment, is lovingly cared for by her staff family, and is relatively content in her private, dementia-lived world. I'm grateful. But I still haven't seen her. At times I feel cut off, almost grieving her loss before she's gone. Because in some ways, she is gone.
My father-in-law is fading, virtually week by week. He has not seen his beloved of 67 years for six months either. It doesn't matter that she does not know him, that the relationship they once shared is non-existent, she is still his wife and "for better or worse, in sickness and in health" is etched on his heart. Some days I'm angry--angry because a seeming life sentence has been imposed on him--to die of a broken heart.
My friend/neighbor's husband was transferred from one hospital to another, now on a crisis list for a bed in Long Term Care. She was informed she can only visit him once a week for one hour, by appointment only. They have been married 61 years and though he is not the man she married, she loves him. He understands very little of what's unfolding, but her face brings light to his own, and his anxiety calms and rest comes easily. For one hour.
My friend/walking partner's husband died Monday night after years of untold suffering. She cared for him for almost six and a half years, while the past nine months have been in long term care. Two of her children live outside of Canada and while they could come, it is doubtful that one of them could return to her country for months. And so she makes the best of the circumstances. She's become efficient at this.
Aging and disease, death and grief all seems to have been relegated to this sanitized, achingly, lonely realm. We're all doing our best to abide by the rules and offer our polite, Yes, I understand." But some days, I want to throw a temper tantrum, stomp my feet and scream--"THIS IS NOT OKAY!!"
We need to hug our loves til our arms ache, hold lonely hands and kiss the cascading tears. Because it's just so heart stopping-cruel to be locked in--or out.
Yet this is our now. I do understand this. And, I don't like it.
The Apostle Paul in the book of Romans is speaking my words and echoing my spirit at present. He talks about creation and we, the created beings, in a state of groaning. Yes, oh yes we are!! It's a groaning which expresses a frustrated yearning for God's deliverance from life's hardship and oppression. Mmmm...yes, ohhhh yes. It's not ours today and so we wait. "Eager hope" and "perseverance" are the words Paul uses to describe how we should wait. I'm not always stellar at this kind of waiting. But God is patient as I fumble along the way.
Naomi Raine expresses in a stunning, powerful way this "now and not yet" hard, painful way of living and the story I will tell.
