"I Can Do Hard Things"

We had a happy Easter here - David surprised us by coming home for the weekend, and we hosted family for dinner. I hope your weekend was equally happy.

I've recently been blessed by a series of letters from the pastor of Grace Episcopal church on Bainbridge Island; they have enriched the Easter season for me. I have been thinking a lot about the events of Holy Week, and what Jesus' words and actions mean - what they meant for his time, and what they mean for me, in my time. 

In the last 24 hours, many sparks of inspiration have flown. Today, this appeared in one of my devotionals:

" 'Do not be afraid.'

"These words were spoken to the shepherds at the beginning of Jesus' life, and they are spoken to the women at the tomb, first by the angel and then by Jesus himself. Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid of life in all its beauty and all its messiness; do not be afraid of death in all its many disguises - perhaps the death of a beloved friend or family member, the death of a dream or the overwhelming deaths that come as a result of disaster or war. We live in a Good Friday world, and yet we proclaim that God's love is bigger than any grim, bleak, terrible thing the Good Friday world can throw at us. The diagnosis, the heartbreak, the tornado, even the funeral, is not the last word.

"Fill us with the hope, courage and faith of Easter." -  Jeanne Lischer, A Daily Spiritual Seed

And from Richard Rohr: 

"Seek joy in God and peace within yourself; seek to rest in the good, the true, and the beautiful. It will be the only resting place that will also allow you to hear and bear the darkness."

Last night, on the PBS series, "Call the Midwife,"  an accident resulted the death of a young man, and as the characters grappled with their grief, I caught this line - perhaps I'm misquoting it, but the gist was: "God is not in the events, but in the response to them." 

And this morning, at the beginning of yoga class, our instructor read the following excerpt from an article in Sun Magazine. It's part of an interview with author Barbara Kingsolver:

"There’s something I have said so often to my children that now they chant it back to me: 'You can do hard things.' I sent my kids to a Montessori preschool, and thank heavens I did, because most of what I learned about parenting came from those wonderful Montessori teachers.  They straightened me out about self-esteem.  There’s this myth that self-esteem comes from making everything easy for your children and making sure they never fail.  If they never encounter hardship or conflict, the logic goes, they’ll never feel bad about themselves. Well, that’s ridiculous.  That’s not even a human life.

"Kids learn self-esteem from mastering difficult tasks.  It’s as simple as that. The Montessori teachers told me to put my two-year-old on a stool and give her the bread, give her the peanut butter, give her the knife — a blunt knife — and let her make that sandwich and get peanut butter all over the place, because when she’s done, she’ll feel like a million bucks.  I thought that was brilliant...When a task was difficult, that’s when I would tell them, 'You can do hard things.'  Both of them have told me they still say to themselves, 'I can do hard things.'  It helps them feel good about who they are, not just after they’ve finished, but while they’re engaged in the process."

All of these words of wisdom help to remind me that life is not "wrong" when hard things happen. Hard things are a natural part of life, and as we rise to meet them, we grow; we grow stronger and more flexible, more mature and useful. 

The greatest growth in my life has come from the hardest things. This does not necessarily mean that I enjoy the difficulties, but as my yoga teacher reminded us, we can show up, and practice - gently, willingly, courageously (and sometimes humorously) do our best.

And then, tonight, I saw this.

This article (and video) took me back to the Easter love of God, of Jesus.

Yes, we can do hard things.

Good Friday

I am sure that most people are thinking of Good Friday in the Christian sense.
I spent some time this morning reading and contemplating that kind of Good Friday. I love the Easter stories, and am very thankful for the gifts of faith and resonance that they stir within me. But this Good Friday, I am thankful for something else: our son is at home with us for the long weekend.

Gregg and I have adapted pretty well to the "empty nest." We are thrilled that David was accepted to a fine university, and that he loves being a student there. I feel grateful for this part of his life, and ours. But when he comes home, our hearts are lifted in a way that is difficult to put into words. It must be so for many parents whose child arrives from living away from home for weeks (or months) at a time. For us, who would be/should be also raising a 17-year old daughter, but are not, David's arrival is intensely joy-filled.

He actually arrived at home last evening. I was at the Dudleys' house, having picked up Leslie at the ferry for a photo shoot. I had planned to host everyone here at our house for dinner after the photo shoot, but had to change the venue, because Gregg has been "hosting" a cough/cold this week, and Leslie is in the middle of chemo. I didn't want her to catch anything from Gregg, so Heidi & Paul agreed that we could stay there for dinner. I brought brownies, wine, cider and satsumas, Heidi brought out cheese, bread, chips, made one of her fabulous salads, and we got barbecued ribs & cornbread from a local provider. Voila` - a movable feast!

A break in the shooting was the perfect opportunity for dinner, and David arrived at Dudleys' in time to eat. Just seeing his car pull into the driveway made my heart so happy! I walked out and gave him a hug before he had even turned off the car's radio. It is so good to see him.

David was able to assist with the after-dark portion of the shoot. Paul decided to torch their dried-out Christmas tree and use the flames as a backdrop in the night. The effect was dramatic, to say the least! Leslie looked like the picture of health and happiness, radiant with life and joy. She is a natural model.

Today, I made fresh juice and blueberry pancakes for David's breakfast, and then he asked me to shoot some hoops with him. We also took a drive to the county clerk's office to renew David's passport, because (drum roll, please) he is going to spend the autumn semester on the Gonzaga program in Italy! We are happy (and thrilled) for him.

Tonight, Gregg barbecued steaks for dinner, and I made rice and quinoa with fennel and bacon, and steamed broccoli to go with it. The guys are out playing basketball right now. The sun is setting, the sky is baby blue, pink and gray, the Sound is calm in front of our house...and it is a Good Friday, indeed.

False Expectations and the Paschal Mystery

"The only way you can be delivered from that sin is to have your false expectations destroyed, once and for all. And that is precisely what happened between Palm Sunday and Good Friday. Jesus drew the false, sinful expectations of the world unto himself, absorbed them, and bore them on the cross. His death was the death of all of our false expectations, and therefore his death was the death of sin itself. The false piety of Palm Sunday is crucified on Good Friday and buried that night, in order that true faith in God might be created on Easter through the resurrection of Jesus Christ."   - Edwin Peterman

What a thought-provoking statement. What false expectations could he be talking about?

Maybe the ones that assume we won't experience suffering, if we "do life right."
...the ones that assume that, if we are as good as we know how to be, we won't make mistakes.
...that people will love us, if we do our best, with best intentions.
...that our savings will grow, so we will have a "comfortable" retirement.
...that if we pray, we will get what we want.
...that our children will be safe, if we take good care of them and follow the wisdom at hand.
...that if we just lost that last 5 pounds, had that pair of jeans, owned that car, got that job, looked like "her," had that degree, believed the right things, that we would feel better.
...that if we eat right and "take care of ourselves," we won't really have to face death.

From my own experience, there is a huge difference between consenting to BELIEVE the paschal mystery and consenting to EXPERIENCE the paschal mystery. I believed it; I believed that Jesus went through it to show us how much he and God loved us. I did NOT believe that he went through it to show me how to do it...and yet he said, "I Am the Way."

Now, because of what I learned with Katie (and my family) on her cancer journey, I believe that Jesus consented to going through the humiliation, beating, abandonment, the way of the cross and tomb, in love and obedience to God - and out of love for all of us. He took that path in order to show me what I was going to have to do myself...what we will all be called to do, in some way, at some time...To let go of what we think we cannot live without,

and embrace what God, who is Love, is giving us:  Himself.

"Christians speak of the "paschal mystery," the process of loss and renewal that was lived and personified in the death and raising up of Jesus. We can affirm that belief in ritual and song, as we do in the Eucharist. However, until we have lost our foundation and ground, and then experience God upholding us so that we come out even more alive on the other side, the expression "paschal mystery" is little understood and not essentially transformative.

Crucifix, Cinque Terre, Italy

"Paschal mystery is a doctrine that we Christians would probably intellectually* assent to, but it is not yet the very cornerstone of our life philosophy. That is the difference between belief systems and living faith. We move from one to the other only through encounter, surrender, trust and an inner experience of presence and power."  - From Richard Rohr's  Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality, p. 62, 63

[*from Karen: I would venture to add that though we might intellectually assent to it, we may not see it as a positive doctrine as we are going through it. We will more likely feel as if we are being asked to die.]

"Faith is a journey into darkness, into not-knowing." ~ Richard Rohr

If God is Love, then that darkness is not a place of fear, but of love.

Easter and After

We had a wonderful Easter weekend. I hope you did, too.

David arrived home on Thursday evening, in time for dinner. On Friday, we had the privilege of hosting Dr. Michael Jensen and his lovely wife for dinner here, with our neighbors. Our neighbor (the husband) is an immunologist, and his wife is a cancer survivor. It was a fun and lively evening, and I am so thankful that we were able to break bread together.

David wanted to go to the beach for a hike, so on Saturday (the one warm day we've had this spring), we took a drive to a favorite beach, and set out for about 6 miles with a picnic lunch.

On Sunday, we took my parents with us to my brother and sister-in-law's home for brunch. It was great to be together for a family feast.

David returned to school on Monday, and we hosted Gregg's parents for dinner that night. Since then, I have been writing and editing all week, and yesterday, I FINISHED MY ROUGH DRAFT of the Family-Centered Care transcript - 83+ pages! Now, I have to edit the draft, pick out the most important themes, and add photographs. Phew! I feel as if I've given birth - but not exactly like that, because there is so much more to do. However, I need to enjoy and celebrate this little milestone in the present moment.

THIS article tells about the dear nurse who died by suicide. I have decided that, since I brought the topic up here, I will share what I have learned since. The article, and more background, were posted by THIS blogger, who is new to me. She did a good job of reporting what she knew. I believe that those who appreciate and support the doctors and nurses who do their best to care for others on a daily basis may find it interesting. Having said that, I need to add that I love our doctors and nurses, and I love Seattle Children's Hospital; I am not passing judgment. I am grieving the course of events, beginning with the death of precious Kaia, that has led to another family's bereavement.

May this season of Easter, and the hope that it offers, bless you. As Father Rohr says,

"The defining pattern for the entire universe is death and resurrection, loss and renewal. There are no exceptions. This pre-announcement is good news for us, if we can hear it...Gospel confirms the redemptive pattern that is transforming all things, and keeps the entire circle of life circling. Nothing will be left to finally and forever die. Now we can trust what seems like a free fall into absurdity.

"We are all living and dying in the same universal pattern, and we need not be shocked, surprised, or waste time trying to change or deny the dying of all things...Stephen Levine said that our fear of death comes from 'our imagined loss of our imagined individuality.' Both imaginings are untrue. There is no loss, only a return to the deepest Ground of our Being. What feels like a free fall is in fact a leap into the one and only Life." - Adapted from Great Themes of St. Paul: Life as Participation

Thank God for the hope of our eventual return to that "deepest Ground of our Being," which I believe to be LOVE.

Everywhere, for Everyone

Richard Rohr explains the "everywhere, for everyone" nature of the Christ in this way:

"We are all the Body of Christ and even more so in our togetherness (1 Corinthians 12:12). Now that’s Scriptural, in many sacred texts, but perhaps it just seems too good to be true: 'There is only Christ, he is everything and he is in everything' (Colossians 3:11). The Risen Christ is our icon of this presence, now unlimited by space or time, which is why the post-Resurrection stories are showing Jesus' body to be both here and there, passing through doors, visible and not visible, everywhere and nowhere, as it were.

"Maybe we just did not have the inner experience to see it, or the courage to believe in such an everywhere presence and such 'easy' access to the Divine: 'You belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God' (1 Corinthians 3:23) is an inner knowing and grounding. I cannot prove it to you; you have to go there for yourself, rest there, draw upon its truth, and then it becomes your greatest strength and deepest truth."  - Richard Rohr, Adapted from The Cosmic Christ

Perhaps this is what we are given, in exchange for His physical presence as a human and divine being.

How Would This Feel?

Jn 20:11-18

Mary Magdalene stayed outside the tomb weeping.

And as she wept, she bent over into the tomb
and saw two angels in white sitting there,
one at the head and one at the feet
where the Body of Jesus had been.
And they said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?”

She said to them, “They have taken my Lord,

and I don’t know where they laid him.”
When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus there,
but did not know it was Jesus.
Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?
Whom are you looking for?”
She thought it was the gardener and said to him,
“Sir, if you carried him away,
tell me where you laid him,
and I will take him.”
Jesus said to her, “Mary!”
She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni,”
which means Teacher.
Jesus said to her, “Stop holding on to me,

for I have not yet ascended to the Father.

But go to my brothers and tell them,
‘I am going to my Father and your Father,
to my God and your God.’”
Mary went and announced to the disciples,
“I have seen the Lord,”
and then reported what he had told her.

I love this part of the Resurrection story.

It's Mary's worst nightmare being turned around into her greatest joy. I identify very deeply with Mary's emotions in this passage.

She can't move. She just sits at his tomb and weeps. But then, as she weeps, she bends over and looks into the tomb...and there are two angels sitting there! Not only does she see two angels, but they speak to her!

Personally, I find it odd that these angels asked her why she was crying. Um, I'm sitting here at a TOMB; isn't it obvious? And you're angels; aren't you supposed to have supernatural powers? But perhaps she needs to be asked what she is really grieving about, for her own sake, for clarity.

I imagine that she would be crying because he died, but she says she is crying because she doesn't know where he has been taken.

Then Jesus appears, and speaks to her, and she thinks he is a gardener. She mistakes her Lord for a laborer in the graveyard. Is he that much changed, or is her grief clouding her vision?

Again she is asked why she is weeping, and this time, also who she is seeking.

The love and longing in her simple request speaks volumes to me:  “Sir, if you carried him away, tell me where you laid him, and I will take him.” Oh, let me have his precious body back, please! The power of that physical longing, to be near the one who has gone!

And all he has to say is her name: "Mary." Spoken by his beloved voice; she hears her name and recognizes him at once.

Can you imagine what you would do? I would throw myself into his arms, I would grab him and hold him so tightly...but he says to Mary - one of his dearest friends - “Stop holding on to me..."

A new kind of relationship, a new kind of love - one that requires letting go. Oh, dear Lord, why do we have to do it this way? I've heard it said that it's so that You can be everywhere, anywhere, for all of us and with us. But it is so hard to stop holding on.