Spurred on by my readings in The Feminine Face of God, I decided to attend a Full Moon Circle this week. It's an all-women spirituality group that I've only been to a handful of times. This week's theme was about thin places; places that are personally sacred. We each went around the room and shared heartfelt stories about where we have felt close to the sacred. The locations spanned the whole world. Some of mine include the beach in Belize I've written about before as well as mountains in general, especially The Blue Ridge Parkway. After sharing about my own thin places and hearing about other people's, I became worried. All the thin places I could imagine were either in the past or not some place I could easily access. Several people spoke of thin places that were special and sacred to them now. I racked my brain and realized a surprising thin place for me: prayer. Not prayer by myself, which I admittedly don't practice very often, at least not in the traditional sense. Art, writing, and singing are my personal prayers. I'm talking about the prayers I say with other people, usually in my role as a Chaplain, worship leader, or with my family.
As a Chaplain, I pray with my patients and their families. In my current cultural location, my prayers often reflect the most common theological perspectives here. It's taken me a while to become comfortable doing so. Mostly, my language reflects a theology that is not part of my current beliefs and yet, strangely, has still felt authentic for me. My discomfort has mostly been present because I haven't been able to understand how I could believe differently and yet feel so authentic in prayer. Recently, in The Feminine Face of God, I came across a phrase from a woman who was once a Roman Catholic nun who left her order and has since pursued painting images of the goddess as a reflection of her spirituality. "My Catholic heritage and environment have been like a beautiful river flowing over my subterranean foundation in God the Mother," she writes in her introduction to The Mother's Songs, "The two movements are not in conflict, they simply water different layers in my soul." They simply water different layers in my soul. Yes, absolutely. This helped me find language for why I can feel personally different from the beliefs of my patients and yet can authentically and whole-heartedly pray with them and their families along our varied theological perspectives; because it waters my soul to do so and connects me with my foundational and initial belief system.
In worship settings, I typically am praying among other Unitarian Universalists and therefore the language I get to embrace reflects my current beliefs. It becomes a combination of prayer, meditation, and guided imagery. It feels comfortable and peaceful. It's almost as though I zone out. I seek the words that feel the most fitting and reflective of the mood, theme, and feeling of the service of which the prayer is a part. Sometimes, it takes me a moment to reemerge into the present moment. But typically I still remain connected to the sacred like the smoke of birthday candles that continue to waft through the air even after the flames have been blown out.
With my family, I'm usually asked to say a blessing before meals. One or both of my parents usually ask me to do this. I think they do it because of my vocation as a Chaplain. They used to try to ask my husband to do it, but Dan doesn't feel comfortable when being put on the spot like that. Over time, it has become my role and is seen as an honor. I embrace as one. Traditionally, in this cultural location, many families have a patriarch lead family prayers. I appreciate and value that my family challenges this tradition.
One last family prayer memory. I've written about it before, but it particularly stands out because it combined my role as a Chaplain and as a family member - as a granddaughter, daughter, niece, and wife. When my grandmother was dying last year, my mom asked me to pray for her. She asked me to do so because she sensed that my grandmother, her mother, needed a minister to provide care. And there I was, the Chaplain Granddaughter, present, willing and able. I accepted the challenge of my mom's request and sang several old hymns and ended them with a prayer. My grandmother died very shortly afterward. I like to think that my prayer comforted my grandmother and offered her peace, as well as provided love and compassion for my family present in the room.
Prayer with others is one of my thin places. It's a sacredness I have access to on a regular basis. I'm grateful for having this particular thin place and becoming aware of it. Thank you to all the women who were a part of this recent, personal discovery.
Blessed be.
Showing posts with label Prayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Prayer. Show all posts
Thursday, June 12, 2014
Monday, December 30, 2013
Reminiscing on a Loss
The one year anniversary of my grandmother's death is approaching. I didn't realize it at first, but I think that explains the unexpected moments of weepiness I've been having this week. A year ago at this time, I was spending evenings and many days at a local nursing home, eating a lot of fast food dinners, crying and remembering with family and feeling the sadness of impending loss. I began 2013 with my grandma's death on the horizon. It was a difficult way to begin a year.
And yet, the year became one of hope, positive change, and possibilities. I'm hoping for a continuation of what's begun as 2014 rolls around.
But for tonight, I'd like to take a much needed moment and share some of my thoughts from a year ago at this time. I'm glad that I shared many of them on Facebook so I can look over them again now. So here are my previous and current thoughts.
"Some things worth mentioning: my grandma's health is failing quite dramatically. It's likely not long that she'll be with us. I'm having a difficult time processing the new year (newness, hope, openness, possibilities) with the inevitable loss of a loved one. I am still finding hope in my ever-present search for gratitude. I feel blessed being surrounded by family, sharing my life with my loving husband, when joining in laughter with friends, and receiving a kind and meaningful gift from a coworker. So far, a pensive 2013." Although this year clearly started out with difficulty, I'm thankful that I still made time for uncovering gratitude. I wish I had written down what the thoughtful gift was because I truly can't remember it. But I do remember feeling like care and compassion was coming at my family from all sides.
"Thank you all for your love and support. My grandma died peacefully earlier tonight. We feel very loved and cared for." I remember sharing this very soon after she died. I also remember that though I needed to share it with my friends, that it was too soon for some of my family to have everyone know. I became more conscious of sharing statuses that affected so many others.
"Wow. So many visitors and so much food at my mom's house. Wonderful to have so many loving and caring people in our world. Thank you!!" It was overwhelming. I'm a caregiver by career and my mom one by nature. We both had to step aside and allow ourselves to be loved, supported, and held up when we're used to doing that for others. Our helpless vulnerability became an opportunity to be recipients of love.
"On the night my grandma died, I sang old hymns to her. Then later my mom asked if I could say a prayer for her. She realized that a pastor had been out to visit with the family, but hadn't actually said a prayer with grandma. It was an emotional and touching moment to be able to pray for my grandma with my mom, my aunt, and my husband. She died less than an hour later. I will hold this as a treasured memory and I wanted to share it with my Facebook family." Of all my memories from a year ago, this is one of the most difficult for me to remember. It was so sacred; so beyond the mundane. It moves me to tears even now because it was a rare moment when all my "selves" combined. My Chaplain-self and my granddaughter/daughter/wife/niece-self joined to provide a spiritual need. I don't know if my grandma heard me singing to her. But my family did. And we held hands and cried together and felt deep feelings together. This is the moment I have been needing to remember, but it's also the one I've been dreading because of the depth of emotion stirred by remembering.
"Working on the draft for my grandma's service. Another way being a Hospice Chaplain has helped me. My brother and cousin are working on the words they want to read. I'm going to try to sing and read the letter to my grandma I wrote in my last blog. It'll be hard for all of us, but hopefully cathartic too." It was not my original intention to draft the service. But the process turned out to be very healing for me. And I did make it through both singing and speaking. I remember being much more nervous about the singing, because so many of my family members didn't even know I could sing. But in the end, speaking my own words was the much more trying task than singing those written by someone else. I remember having to take a moment, breathe through the knot in my throat, and continue on. After the service, I overheard one of my cousins talking on the phone to someone. He said the service was so sad! By his tone, however, he meant it as a compliment because he, and many others, thought that three of the grandchildren participating was very special. I think we would have made my grandma proud.
"We made it through my grandma's funeral service. It was beautiful and personal. So many family and friends gathered from all over the place! Thank you so much to everyone who came. You surrounded us all in love. Now we're spending time with family and enjoying great memories and yummy food." The same week as my grandma's service, I attended the funeral of a Roman Catholic patient of mine. My patient's service was almost entirely scripted from a Roman Catholic worship book. I think it was meaningful for the family, but the five minutes or so spent actually talking about the patient didn't feel like enough for me. I'm proud of the approach and time given to my grandma's service. It was certainly what we needed it to be.
"Thank you everyone for all the love and support. And especially thank you to Kody Kinsley, Kt Cassady, Robin Buzzeo, and Tracy Hawkins for the texts and calls. It's been wonderful to feel so loved." And I certainly did feel loved every day. I have some of the most wonderful friends ever. It's a gift to have them and another gift to be so aware of how deeply blessed I am. It's also wonderful that these friends are enduring souls in my life. They, along with Dan, have been sources of inspiration, laughter, support, silliness, and hope.
"I find that 'firsts' after someone dies are significant and sad. Even though it's been several weeks, I'm still seeing some people for the first time since my grandma died. They ask about her, I share, then I have to shed some tears to recover from another 'first.'" This post was brought on by someone at my work. We work for the same company, but not very closely. We ran into each other in the office and she very kindly asked, "How's your grandma?" It was at a time when I finally thought everyone knew she had died, so the question knocked the wind out of me and brought me up short for a moment. I had to go back to my desk and cry for a bit until I was able to temper my emotions.
"Making my grandma's soup tonight. Turns out my mom had the same idea and she made it tonight too!" We were surprised when we did this! I felt connected to my mom that we both thought to honor her mom the same night in the same way.
Here are some other ways my grandma was honored and remembered:
And yet, the year became one of hope, positive change, and possibilities. I'm hoping for a continuation of what's begun as 2014 rolls around.
But for tonight, I'd like to take a much needed moment and share some of my thoughts from a year ago at this time. I'm glad that I shared many of them on Facebook so I can look over them again now. So here are my previous and current thoughts.
"Some things worth mentioning: my grandma's health is failing quite dramatically. It's likely not long that she'll be with us. I'm having a difficult time processing the new year (newness, hope, openness, possibilities) with the inevitable loss of a loved one. I am still finding hope in my ever-present search for gratitude. I feel blessed being surrounded by family, sharing my life with my loving husband, when joining in laughter with friends, and receiving a kind and meaningful gift from a coworker. So far, a pensive 2013." Although this year clearly started out with difficulty, I'm thankful that I still made time for uncovering gratitude. I wish I had written down what the thoughtful gift was because I truly can't remember it. But I do remember feeling like care and compassion was coming at my family from all sides.
"Thank you all for your love and support. My grandma died peacefully earlier tonight. We feel very loved and cared for." I remember sharing this very soon after she died. I also remember that though I needed to share it with my friends, that it was too soon for some of my family to have everyone know. I became more conscious of sharing statuses that affected so many others.
"Wow. So many visitors and so much food at my mom's house. Wonderful to have so many loving and caring people in our world. Thank you!!" It was overwhelming. I'm a caregiver by career and my mom one by nature. We both had to step aside and allow ourselves to be loved, supported, and held up when we're used to doing that for others. Our helpless vulnerability became an opportunity to be recipients of love.
"On the night my grandma died, I sang old hymns to her. Then later my mom asked if I could say a prayer for her. She realized that a pastor had been out to visit with the family, but hadn't actually said a prayer with grandma. It was an emotional and touching moment to be able to pray for my grandma with my mom, my aunt, and my husband. She died less than an hour later. I will hold this as a treasured memory and I wanted to share it with my Facebook family." Of all my memories from a year ago, this is one of the most difficult for me to remember. It was so sacred; so beyond the mundane. It moves me to tears even now because it was a rare moment when all my "selves" combined. My Chaplain-self and my granddaughter/daughter/wife/niece-self joined to provide a spiritual need. I don't know if my grandma heard me singing to her. But my family did. And we held hands and cried together and felt deep feelings together. This is the moment I have been needing to remember, but it's also the one I've been dreading because of the depth of emotion stirred by remembering.
"Working on the draft for my grandma's service. Another way being a Hospice Chaplain has helped me. My brother and cousin are working on the words they want to read. I'm going to try to sing and read the letter to my grandma I wrote in my last blog. It'll be hard for all of us, but hopefully cathartic too." It was not my original intention to draft the service. But the process turned out to be very healing for me. And I did make it through both singing and speaking. I remember being much more nervous about the singing, because so many of my family members didn't even know I could sing. But in the end, speaking my own words was the much more trying task than singing those written by someone else. I remember having to take a moment, breathe through the knot in my throat, and continue on. After the service, I overheard one of my cousins talking on the phone to someone. He said the service was so sad! By his tone, however, he meant it as a compliment because he, and many others, thought that three of the grandchildren participating was very special. I think we would have made my grandma proud.
"We made it through my grandma's funeral service. It was beautiful and personal. So many family and friends gathered from all over the place! Thank you so much to everyone who came. You surrounded us all in love. Now we're spending time with family and enjoying great memories and yummy food." The same week as my grandma's service, I attended the funeral of a Roman Catholic patient of mine. My patient's service was almost entirely scripted from a Roman Catholic worship book. I think it was meaningful for the family, but the five minutes or so spent actually talking about the patient didn't feel like enough for me. I'm proud of the approach and time given to my grandma's service. It was certainly what we needed it to be.
"Thank you everyone for all the love and support. And especially thank you to Kody Kinsley, Kt Cassady, Robin Buzzeo, and Tracy Hawkins for the texts and calls. It's been wonderful to feel so loved." And I certainly did feel loved every day. I have some of the most wonderful friends ever. It's a gift to have them and another gift to be so aware of how deeply blessed I am. It's also wonderful that these friends are enduring souls in my life. They, along with Dan, have been sources of inspiration, laughter, support, silliness, and hope.
"I find that 'firsts' after someone dies are significant and sad. Even though it's been several weeks, I'm still seeing some people for the first time since my grandma died. They ask about her, I share, then I have to shed some tears to recover from another 'first.'" This post was brought on by someone at my work. We work for the same company, but not very closely. We ran into each other in the office and she very kindly asked, "How's your grandma?" It was at a time when I finally thought everyone knew she had died, so the question knocked the wind out of me and brought me up short for a moment. I had to go back to my desk and cry for a bit until I was able to temper my emotions.
"Making my grandma's soup tonight. Turns out my mom had the same idea and she made it tonight too!" We were surprised when we did this! I felt connected to my mom that we both thought to honor her mom the same night in the same way.
Here are some other ways my grandma was honored and remembered:
Right after Christmas, and right before grandma died, I printed a copy of the group photo of our family on my grandma's 87th birthday. I didn't know at the time quite how soon she was going to die, so these photos became extra special and well-timed.
My mom and I shared a special day together celebrating Mother's Day - her first since her mom died. We got dressed up and went to the Wilmington Tea Room. Without planning ahead, we wore our matching dogwood necklaces. Hers belonged to her mom. I found mine in the NC mountains very likely made by the same designer. Now, when we get together for mother-daughter dates, we often wear them.
Most recently, I made special ornaments for Christmas for my mom and aunt. Below are photos of my mom and aunt opening their gift and then a closer photo of the ornaments themselves.
We've made it through many firsts this year. I'm hopeful about 2014. And I'm grateful for all the love I have in my life. If you've made it to the end of my blog, thank you so much for sticking with me. Please feel free to leave me comments and thoughts.
With love,
Kelley
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
The Cultural Location of Chaplaincy
My first experience of ever embracing the role of "Chaplain" was in Santa Monica, CA, where I was required/encouraged to introduce myself as one of the "Interfaith Chaplains" offered by the hospital. This was during my pre-UU days and it was interesting to be designated as interfaith even though I had only ever identified as Christian before. But something about that description resonated with me. Although, looking back I realize with blatant awareness that I was woefully ignorant of caring for others outside of Christianity. In that job, I learned how it can be a spiritual experience to learn Radiohead songs to sing with the Music Therapist on the Pediatrics floor with the kids. And that being present can be deeply healing. I recall that when my internship was ending, I was really mourning the loss of being a Chaplain.
Then after I graduated, I became a Hospice Chaplain for the first time in Ventura, CA. Some random things I miss about Ventura County are all the Spanish names for cities and street signs. There's very little trilling of R's in the South. Here, my Chaplaincy took on a new shape as most of my patients were Roman Catholic Latinos. I learned to retrieve resources from the local Catholic churches and to humbly offer them to patients and their families. At this job, I learned the value of cultural curiosity and sensitivity. When I made a genuinely caring effort, I was met halfway and then I could join the people I was caring for as we continued the journey together. I also gained a significant amount of confidence as a Chaplain. Not in a boasting, "Look at me, I'm THE Chaplain." But more in a, "I really value what I'm doing, I know I can be calm in the midst of chaos" kind of way. It was interesting though, because overall, many of my patients still weren't actively religious.
And then I moved to the Bible Belt. Whew. It has been an adjustment. To explain a little, I'd like to reference a conversation that I had with a fellow seminarian and Chaplain. She was doing her Chaplain Residency in New York. Most of the people she visited were not Christian, but a part of another faith or no particular faith group. She was hoping to hone her skills as a Christian Chaplain, but was finding this difficult because she didn't get a lot of practice in her cultural location. I, on the other hand, felt like I was a fish out of water in the opposite way. I would have loved to hone my skills at addressing the needs of people who are not Christians, but I'm a Unitarian Universalist in the Bible Belt, mostly caring for people who are conservative or fundamentalist Christians. And yet, I feel like my skill set is adjusting to this particular cultural location, to help me care for the people whose spirituality has been entrusted to me.
However, I did have a brief moment of panic (can it really be called panic if it's brief?) where I worried that my skills were becoming so fine-tuned for the people I care for now, that I would be deficient if Dan and I decided to move (which is not being considered, just an fyi). After presenting this fear to Dan, he calmly chimed in that he thought I had always adjusted my Chaplaincy to where we lived, and that he was fully confident that I could do it again.
So this post was a response to the actuality that I had indeed adapted by Chaplaincy style to the various cultural locations in which we've lived. It was a review and a relief. I'm also extremely grateful to have had the experience I did in the United Methodist Church growing up, because my church of origin gifted me with many skills I use often for my weekly visits. Visits which most often include: singing from my UM Hymnal with patients of various protestant backgrounds, reading from the Bible, reading from other literature and poetry, hearing and encouraging the telling of life stories, and praying (often in a way that reflects the conservative beliefs of the patient/family).
I still want to develop my ministerial identity for those who are UU or at least not a part of the mainstream religious identity here. For that, I look to my Worship Committee experience at my church and the various opportunities I'm given to pray in a non-conservative Christian way. The language is different and much more freeing. And yet, because the majority of my verbal prayers as a Chaplain do not feel reflective of UU, I feel out of practice every time I step up to the pulpit at my church. Being allowed and encouraged to use vocabulary like, "Spirit of love and of love, God of many names and many expressions..." and "in the name of all that is Holy, Amen"...they open possibilities. I feel like it could be worthwhile to write prayers and phrases down that are more true to who I am spiritually. A spiritual discipline perhaps?
Here are a few stirring phrases that I would like to use at my UU church in prayer:
God and Goddess, known to many in countless ways
Resonate within us a feeling of hope, connection, love and creativity
May we experience and recognize the blessings in our lives
May we ruminate in gratitude, deeply feeling all that which we have to be grateful for
For experiences that cause us distress, sadness, and mourning, may we be surrounded by the love of supportive souls...who nourish our pains with words of encouragement, loving hugs, and soulful presence.
When we are happy and want to celebrate, may we find people who help our joy double because they share it with us.
May we as a community of faith stand together throughout each others' life story
We have many histories gathered together, and yet we all ended up in this space, at this time...what a gift and a blessing in itself to be here. Now.
Let us all take a deep breath in while we ponder how fortunate we are to be in each others' presence.
In gratitude, in love, in mourning and in hope, we pray together in the name of all that is Holy and Sacred, Amen.
(Update since this was first posted: I prayed these words today at my UU Fellowship. I weaved them in with words that came in the moment and it was a beautifully spiritual experience.)
Then after I graduated, I became a Hospice Chaplain for the first time in Ventura, CA. Some random things I miss about Ventura County are all the Spanish names for cities and street signs. There's very little trilling of R's in the South. Here, my Chaplaincy took on a new shape as most of my patients were Roman Catholic Latinos. I learned to retrieve resources from the local Catholic churches and to humbly offer them to patients and their families. At this job, I learned the value of cultural curiosity and sensitivity. When I made a genuinely caring effort, I was met halfway and then I could join the people I was caring for as we continued the journey together. I also gained a significant amount of confidence as a Chaplain. Not in a boasting, "Look at me, I'm THE Chaplain." But more in a, "I really value what I'm doing, I know I can be calm in the midst of chaos" kind of way. It was interesting though, because overall, many of my patients still weren't actively religious.
And then I moved to the Bible Belt. Whew. It has been an adjustment. To explain a little, I'd like to reference a conversation that I had with a fellow seminarian and Chaplain. She was doing her Chaplain Residency in New York. Most of the people she visited were not Christian, but a part of another faith or no particular faith group. She was hoping to hone her skills as a Christian Chaplain, but was finding this difficult because she didn't get a lot of practice in her cultural location. I, on the other hand, felt like I was a fish out of water in the opposite way. I would have loved to hone my skills at addressing the needs of people who are not Christians, but I'm a Unitarian Universalist in the Bible Belt, mostly caring for people who are conservative or fundamentalist Christians. And yet, I feel like my skill set is adjusting to this particular cultural location, to help me care for the people whose spirituality has been entrusted to me.
However, I did have a brief moment of panic (can it really be called panic if it's brief?) where I worried that my skills were becoming so fine-tuned for the people I care for now, that I would be deficient if Dan and I decided to move (which is not being considered, just an fyi). After presenting this fear to Dan, he calmly chimed in that he thought I had always adjusted my Chaplaincy to where we lived, and that he was fully confident that I could do it again.
So this post was a response to the actuality that I had indeed adapted by Chaplaincy style to the various cultural locations in which we've lived. It was a review and a relief. I'm also extremely grateful to have had the experience I did in the United Methodist Church growing up, because my church of origin gifted me with many skills I use often for my weekly visits. Visits which most often include: singing from my UM Hymnal with patients of various protestant backgrounds, reading from the Bible, reading from other literature and poetry, hearing and encouraging the telling of life stories, and praying (often in a way that reflects the conservative beliefs of the patient/family).
I still want to develop my ministerial identity for those who are UU or at least not a part of the mainstream religious identity here. For that, I look to my Worship Committee experience at my church and the various opportunities I'm given to pray in a non-conservative Christian way. The language is different and much more freeing. And yet, because the majority of my verbal prayers as a Chaplain do not feel reflective of UU, I feel out of practice every time I step up to the pulpit at my church. Being allowed and encouraged to use vocabulary like, "Spirit of love and of love, God of many names and many expressions..." and "in the name of all that is Holy, Amen"...they open possibilities. I feel like it could be worthwhile to write prayers and phrases down that are more true to who I am spiritually. A spiritual discipline perhaps?
Here are a few stirring phrases that I would like to use at my UU church in prayer:
God and Goddess, known to many in countless ways
Resonate within us a feeling of hope, connection, love and creativity
May we experience and recognize the blessings in our lives
May we ruminate in gratitude, deeply feeling all that which we have to be grateful for
For experiences that cause us distress, sadness, and mourning, may we be surrounded by the love of supportive souls...who nourish our pains with words of encouragement, loving hugs, and soulful presence.
When we are happy and want to celebrate, may we find people who help our joy double because they share it with us.
May we as a community of faith stand together throughout each others' life story
We have many histories gathered together, and yet we all ended up in this space, at this time...what a gift and a blessing in itself to be here. Now.
Let us all take a deep breath in while we ponder how fortunate we are to be in each others' presence.
In gratitude, in love, in mourning and in hope, we pray together in the name of all that is Holy and Sacred, Amen.
(Update since this was first posted: I prayed these words today at my UU Fellowship. I weaved them in with words that came in the moment and it was a beautifully spiritual experience.)
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Ponderings of a Sunday Morning
I'm a member of a UU congregation called the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Wilmington. I have had the privilege of being a part of two UU churches since becoming a part of this faith, and each one has brought so much to my life. I wanted to take a moment today and write a short entry reflecting upon this morning's worship experience.
I arrived prior to the service and was greeted with love and hugs. Next week, I'll be doing one of the two homilies in the services, and my fellow homily-speaker and I had a hilarious conversation assuring the other that "I'm not done either." Two eager children handed me my order of service, the little girl explaining with a smile that her bright yellow glitter necklace was actually sunshine. During the worship service I sat between one of my closest friends and two middle schoolers who I adore. I gave and received many hugs prior to the service.
I lit a candle of love and hope, prayed and meditated in community, and heard a sermon that made me thoughtful. But what I love the most about my congregation is the endearing manner in which they have settled into my heart. I feel loved. Many of the people in the church have already shown me that they will care for me in difficult times and double my joys by sharing them. I bring all of who I am into this church: doubting, seeking, loving, giggling, weeping, cherishing...it's all there. And it all has a place. I am so honored to be a part of this church and this faith. And today especially, on this beautiful Spring day, I feel hope and renewal. I also feel gratitude for all those who were Unitarians, Universalists, and Unitarian Universalists who came before me to pave the way of our faith and make it possible for me to be a part of this free religious community.
So onward I go, in gratitude, love, and hope. Amen. Blessed be.
I arrived prior to the service and was greeted with love and hugs. Next week, I'll be doing one of the two homilies in the services, and my fellow homily-speaker and I had a hilarious conversation assuring the other that "I'm not done either." Two eager children handed me my order of service, the little girl explaining with a smile that her bright yellow glitter necklace was actually sunshine. During the worship service I sat between one of my closest friends and two middle schoolers who I adore. I gave and received many hugs prior to the service.
I lit a candle of love and hope, prayed and meditated in community, and heard a sermon that made me thoughtful. But what I love the most about my congregation is the endearing manner in which they have settled into my heart. I feel loved. Many of the people in the church have already shown me that they will care for me in difficult times and double my joys by sharing them. I bring all of who I am into this church: doubting, seeking, loving, giggling, weeping, cherishing...it's all there. And it all has a place. I am so honored to be a part of this church and this faith. And today especially, on this beautiful Spring day, I feel hope and renewal. I also feel gratitude for all those who were Unitarians, Universalists, and Unitarian Universalists who came before me to pave the way of our faith and make it possible for me to be a part of this free religious community.
So onward I go, in gratitude, love, and hope. Amen. Blessed be.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Eat, Pray, Love
For my CPE Residency, I had a didactic presentation to do recently. I had to present a book I read to my group in a creative way. I actually really enjoyed my presentation and the time I had with my colleagues. Prior to the day of my didactic, I had purchased Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. After seeing a preview for the upcoming movie starring Julia Roberts, I decided I must read this book before watching the incredible looking movie. But seeing as I had another book I was supposed to be reading, I made myself promise that I wouldn't start this book until after my presentation day. Miraculously, I made it to that deadline (and then some) which is out of character for me. I think listening to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows in my car (I couldn't read in there anyway!) helped. But Harry Potter was over and my didactic done, so I began this extremely interesting book about one woman's journey.
I'm already hooked. And, thought I'm only 38 pages into the story, I have already learned a bit about myself. So here are some of the insights that have come up for me from this enthralling novel: I haven't prayed directly to God in a long time. At least not consistently. Well, let me clarify. I actually do pray quite a lot in the hospital. I pray for patients and their families. I pray in our devotion time with my fellow chaplains. And, on the rarer occasion, I pray with and for one of my colleagues. But what I do not do consistently is pray to God, from my heart, for my heart.
Last week, one of my colleagues said something to me that hurt me deeply. I was being more open about the way I think about God, and energy, and the Universe. I was talking about my spiritual journey and how I had become UU. His response was honest, and, looking back I'm truly grateful for it. But, at the time, my heart broke a little. What he said was that he thought God hurt because of my spiritual decisions. From his perspective, God's incarnation in Jesus Christ is the only spiritual path. And those that choose otherwise are going against God's will and that therefore God would be hurt because of their decisions; because of my decision.
His honesty, which at first I shied away from, was something I have been exploring further in the past couple of days. What I realized earnestly...is that I disagree. The idea that trying to be who I authentically am is hurting God is deeply painful. But for me, I believe that God understands my search, even more than I do. I think God cares, is glad that I seek spiritual paths, and that I'm on this journey. So I talked to God about it, something I haven't done in a while.
I think part of why I shied away from conversations with God is because of how much I've changed since I was a very conservative Christian. Because I had changed so much, I thought my image of God must therefore change also. But what I'm realizing is that the God of my Christian self is still very much the God of my now-self. This was a surprise to discover. I also think of God as a spirit, the indefinable, hard to nail, floaty-God that I feel connected to in nature. Sometimes I imagine these two God images together, but I haven't often. Somehow I think owning that my image of God is similar to what it once was will help me see these two aspects of God together.
In Eat, Pray, Love, after Gilbert mentions "God" for the first time, she then writes,
"And since this is the first time I have introduced that loaded word-GOD-into my book, and since this is a word which will appear many times again throughout these pages, it seems only fair that I pause here for a moment to explain exactly what I mean when I say that word, just so people can decide right away how offended they need to get."
I chuckled, feeling like I understood how she felt.
She continued:
"... let me first explain why I use the word God, when I could just as easily use the words Jehovah, Allah, Shiva, Brahma, Vishnu, or Zeus...I have nothing against any of these terms. I feel they are all equal because they are all equally adequate and inadequate descriptions of the indescribable. But we each do need a functional name for this indescribability, and "God" is the name that feels the most warm to me, so that's what I use. I should also confess that I generally refer to God as "Him", which doesn't bother me because, to my mind, it's just a convenient personalizing pronoun, not a precise anatomical description or a cause for revolution. Of course, I don't mind if people call God "Her", and I understand the urge to do so. Again-to me, these are both equal terms, equally adequate and inadequate. Though I do think the capitalization of either pronoun is a nice touch, a small politeness in the presence of the divine." (p.13)
I don't think I intended to write that much at first, but I just wanted to include the entire excerpt in here. I call God different things. Sometimes I address the Universe in my prayers, a habit I picked up from the language of The Artist's Way. At my UU Fellowship the minister often addresses "Spirit of Life and Love" which also resonates with me. But I also find that the word "God" seems more encompassing and makes me think of many things at once. I like the openness.
This morning, during my morning pages, I addressed God about my feelings regarding what P said at work last week. I felt more connected to God than I had in a while. Another thought I toyed with is the idea that every person is divine, that our innermost core is sacred. And I wonder if the "substance" of God is the same as this sacred core. Following this line of thought, then connecting to myself means connecting to God. Hmm...food for thought and further consideration. I might address this again in the future.
For now, I'm heading away from the blogosphere, but I hope to return again soon!
Peace!
I'm already hooked. And, thought I'm only 38 pages into the story, I have already learned a bit about myself. So here are some of the insights that have come up for me from this enthralling novel: I haven't prayed directly to God in a long time. At least not consistently. Well, let me clarify. I actually do pray quite a lot in the hospital. I pray for patients and their families. I pray in our devotion time with my fellow chaplains. And, on the rarer occasion, I pray with and for one of my colleagues. But what I do not do consistently is pray to God, from my heart, for my heart.
Last week, one of my colleagues said something to me that hurt me deeply. I was being more open about the way I think about God, and energy, and the Universe. I was talking about my spiritual journey and how I had become UU. His response was honest, and, looking back I'm truly grateful for it. But, at the time, my heart broke a little. What he said was that he thought God hurt because of my spiritual decisions. From his perspective, God's incarnation in Jesus Christ is the only spiritual path. And those that choose otherwise are going against God's will and that therefore God would be hurt because of their decisions; because of my decision.
His honesty, which at first I shied away from, was something I have been exploring further in the past couple of days. What I realized earnestly...is that I disagree. The idea that trying to be who I authentically am is hurting God is deeply painful. But for me, I believe that God understands my search, even more than I do. I think God cares, is glad that I seek spiritual paths, and that I'm on this journey. So I talked to God about it, something I haven't done in a while.
I think part of why I shied away from conversations with God is because of how much I've changed since I was a very conservative Christian. Because I had changed so much, I thought my image of God must therefore change also. But what I'm realizing is that the God of my Christian self is still very much the God of my now-self. This was a surprise to discover. I also think of God as a spirit, the indefinable, hard to nail, floaty-God that I feel connected to in nature. Sometimes I imagine these two God images together, but I haven't often. Somehow I think owning that my image of God is similar to what it once was will help me see these two aspects of God together.
In Eat, Pray, Love, after Gilbert mentions "God" for the first time, she then writes,
"And since this is the first time I have introduced that loaded word-GOD-into my book, and since this is a word which will appear many times again throughout these pages, it seems only fair that I pause here for a moment to explain exactly what I mean when I say that word, just so people can decide right away how offended they need to get."
I chuckled, feeling like I understood how she felt.
She continued:
"... let me first explain why I use the word God, when I could just as easily use the words Jehovah, Allah, Shiva, Brahma, Vishnu, or Zeus...I have nothing against any of these terms. I feel they are all equal because they are all equally adequate and inadequate descriptions of the indescribable. But we each do need a functional name for this indescribability, and "God" is the name that feels the most warm to me, so that's what I use. I should also confess that I generally refer to God as "Him", which doesn't bother me because, to my mind, it's just a convenient personalizing pronoun, not a precise anatomical description or a cause for revolution. Of course, I don't mind if people call God "Her", and I understand the urge to do so. Again-to me, these are both equal terms, equally adequate and inadequate. Though I do think the capitalization of either pronoun is a nice touch, a small politeness in the presence of the divine." (p.13)
I don't think I intended to write that much at first, but I just wanted to include the entire excerpt in here. I call God different things. Sometimes I address the Universe in my prayers, a habit I picked up from the language of The Artist's Way. At my UU Fellowship the minister often addresses "Spirit of Life and Love" which also resonates with me. But I also find that the word "God" seems more encompassing and makes me think of many things at once. I like the openness.
This morning, during my morning pages, I addressed God about my feelings regarding what P said at work last week. I felt more connected to God than I had in a while. Another thought I toyed with is the idea that every person is divine, that our innermost core is sacred. And I wonder if the "substance" of God is the same as this sacred core. Following this line of thought, then connecting to myself means connecting to God. Hmm...food for thought and further consideration. I might address this again in the future.
For now, I'm heading away from the blogosphere, but I hope to return again soon!
Peace!
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