Over the past few years, I have become a happy resident of the long view. As I age and rediscover my footing as grandmother and retiree, this feeling is amplified by the passing of a parent and the death and illnesses of my aunts and uncles. Although, you always know it's coming, one day you look around and realize there is no one left of the older generations to ask the questions: do you remember, where did we go on that train trip, who are these people in the photo? It's not so much the feeling of being orphaned as it is taking on the mantle of the sage or crone that ushers the other generations forward; the keeper and teller of the stories. I first noticed this long view as I watched my daughter mothering her own children. I remembered the worries that she shared of food and diapers and preschools and the futures into which she was leading them as my own when she was in my arms. I immediately remembered the stress I felt as a mom but had somehow magically shed as a grandmother. For the first time I could see the worries on which I had wasted my time and energy. The kids were fine. There was no need to be concerned of each meal, each diaper change, friends they would or wouldn't make. The kids were fine. That is not to say that those things were not important, only that they would take care of themselves.
This long view has also granted me the gift of forgiveness. When you are 25 and look back on your life at the mistakes you have made, it is difficult to find the place of understanding how God could love you in spite of it all. For me, the high school and college years were full of missteps and experimenting with the boundaries of safety and security. I did nothing that you would call dangerous but I definitely tinkered with the lines. Then, as you make the turn toward 40, those errors of your youth are overshadowed by the goodness you have left in your trail; the work you have done, the service of which you have been a part, the love you have given to your parents and children, and the sacrifices you have made in the name of that love. It becomes harder and harder to remember the errors of your past or maybe you purposefully leave them behind and choose not to carry them alongside of your goodness. You live your life stepping forward knowing that you are always moving toward goodness through the next decades of life.
What followed next for me was the time of coming face to face with the knowledge that I am God's Beloved. That did not come easily but it did finally come until I could at long last hold the loving gaze as God affirmed, "You are my Beloved; this is my daughter with whom I am well pleased." That led me into Week 1 of the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises. This week starts with God's great love for us and all that has been provided through the beauty and grandeur of creation. I fell deeply into that love and spent days in prayer of adoration and giving thanks for all the gifts I have been given. But then came the time to acknowledge that I haven't always responded to those gifts with thanks and gratitude. I was immediately tossed back to my youth and saying aloud and trying as best I could to believe that I am a sinner but yet still the Beloved. Only with God can those two facts sit side by side. These were difficult and tear-filled days. It took me some time to fully understand what it meant to be loved despite everything; no matter what I do or have done or will do, I am the Beloved. Nothing can keep me from the love of God.
In the aftermath of the Spiritual Exercises, I once again zoom out and engage the long view. Much like my years of motherhood, the worries of the missteps of my youth are little more than a pebble on the road of life that needs to be stepped over. God's love is always present and although I may turn away from time to time, the love waits for me to look back over my shoulder and once again engage with gaze of Love. I am the Beloved. Always and forever.
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