... since I wrote about being "under pressure." It was the same week a year ago -- week "8" of the year. I know this because it's my timeshare week. It always falls over David's birthday. This year he would have turned 48. What do I do with that??
So during the last year I took a couple risks. Risk for me is pretty low-key. Let's get that out in the open. I'm cautious by nature. (I passed that on to my son; not my daughter.) I dipped my toe into the cold water. I got hurt. I did it again. I got hurt again. Not a good pattern, right? My sisters and close friends encourage me to be cautious -- to be guarded. I bravely state that I'd rather risk that hurt than be mortared-up -- isolated and bitter. And that's true. But NOT being hurt would be a lot better.
I'm on retreat again. I decided a couple years ago when both kids were in college to actually spend my timeshare week at my timeshare -- at the beach in the middle of winter. It's wonderful. I have a balcony right on the Atlantic. I can chose to freeze and hear the ocean or be warm and read. I chose both alternatively. I walk and walk and walk up the coastline on the water's edge, dodging the surf -- then back on the boardwalk tramping the sand out of my shoes. I meander in and out of the beach shops that delightfully remain open in the winter, allowing me to fulfill a familial obligation to conduct cheesy souvenir shopping. It's so gratifying to find the perfect keepsake for the year (this year a bottle opener and an insulated coffee cup ... yeh, I know .... kind of boring, but last year's bamboo windchimes never got hung so they're still good).
Last winter I brought a friend with me to experience the winter beach. This year I'm alone. Beloveds have asked why? If this is wise ... Do I want company? My responses span from "yes, of course ... I'm accustomed to being alone" to "what is my choice?" And I have invited a few to join me. I know at least one would have come had I said I just couldn't be alone. Thank you. Another would have been challenged to take the time off. I'm really okay. As I told a sister, I do most everything alone. Why should vacation be much different? Is that a commentary on my life? Perhaps.
Even when David was alive, I lived possibly the majority of my life alone. Some weeks he was gone from Friday through Monday -- sometimes Thursday through Tuesday. Weekends were lonely and challenging, but one can get used to most anything, right? Whether right or wrong/good or bad. It was to what I was accustomed -- my normal. I didn't like it then; I don't like it now.
I haven't read much since David's death. It is a glaring contrast to pre-widowed behavior. I was always deep in a novel -- reading through several in a week most of the time. David could sometimes get me to read one of his non-fiction favorites ... but the point is that I was an avid reader. I sort of feel a bit like an intellectual failure the last few years -- reading a bit of young adult fiction here and there ... dabbling in grief books or healing devotionals -- but never really committing to any written word. This week I brought some spiritual stuff, a silly book and a popular novel. I'm more than half-way through a book about sorrow, joy, blessings and faith (humbling) -- more than half-way through a book about how people affect each other. Interesting. I already discarded a tedious parody -- and have yet to open the novel. What does that say about my state of mind and heart this week? I'm seeking avenues for joy -- permission to trust that God's promises "not to harm me but to prosper me" have merit. Ugh.
So, Henri Nouwen, you have me very humbly acknowledging joy. Thank you! At least you permit the sorrows first. Yeh, I have a bunch of those. You have made me ponder blessings and want to break further out from my own suffering. It is time, right? Believing it and wanting it are a little different than doing it, but it's a start. I've also been repeatedly slapped in the face by a best-selling devotional about self-pity and self-preoccupation. Geez!! Today's entry basically accused me of rebelling against God by not trusting in His promises to care for me even though my future seems precarious -- that my future is a mystery and I should just put up and shut up (translation: have faith). Ouch. Be patient. How much longer do I have to wait before I "prosper?" What are these promises? Then the self-pity creeps in and I only see my sorrows and lose sight of my joys. It takes a LOT of energy to keep on keepin' on!
So in the interim, I have tried to be in "community" with someone who made me feel less "different." Someone who understood my sorrows -- my losses. I risked a good deal ... and was hurt. I was truthful and vulnerable and naked -- offered Grace that, it turns out, was decidedly undeserving ... but isn't that was Grace is? Nouwen expresses this as 'lifting our cup' of our life -- sharing with one another our "sufferings and joys in mutual vulnerability" so that the new covenant (Jesus' sacrifice) can become visible among us. "The surprise of it all is that it is often the least among us who reveal to us that our cup is a cup of blessings." And I'd do it again. I want only to BE a blessing. Of course it would be lovely if I would also be blessed, as "promised," but I guess I'll have to wait patiently on the Lord for this -- assuming that I don't rebel against this promise.
"The cup of blessings is the cup the meek have to offer to us." ~H.J.M. Nouwen, "Can You Drink the Cup?" How do you convince someone that despite their brokenness -- their abandonment -- their aimless wandering-- they can actually bless others? I don't know ... but, on David's birthday, I have to give him credit for believing that they can. He believed that there was no heart that could not be turned and that those who suffer the most have the most to give. But only if they tear down the walls that imprison them and find liberation -- freedom to be a blessing, to be in community, to lift their cup to life. Isn't that beautiful?
The rest of the world is sleeping
Like it seems to do every night
Here I am again, alone with my friends
the candles and the clouds and the moonlight
I know it isn't the first time
I'm sure it won't be the last
But this is my time, these are my hours
Gotta take them now before they become the past
And night after night I keep trying
to understand this life that I live
I keep coming back to the same old track
Those who suffer most have the most to give
There's a heart that's bleeding in the heartland
and another that is broken in the east
Somewhere far across the ocean
there's a soul just searching for peace
Prisoners of hope,
Love's last refugees
If we cannot suffer together,
Then our pain don’t mean a thing
The rest of the world is sleeping
Maybe, tonight I will too
If not, there's always tomorrow
And If not there’s always you
but every night, you can find me with my candles
celebrating this life I live
listen to this song and always remember
those who suffer most have the most to give
"Most to Give," Love the Time - http://www.davidmbailey.com/audio/DAVID_M_BAILEY-Most_to_Give2_hifi.m3u
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