Let Me Linger Here With God

 My morning prayer often unintentionally takes its sweet time to come around to a natural stopping place and I like it that way. A few years ago, experiencing the Spiritual Exercises introduced me to this new feeling of comfort and familiarity with my Creator. As God settled in with me and I with God day after day, I came to appreciate my own lack of concern for the time or other obligations. The experience of being with God was just too good; it was hard to let go of it. So I stayed.  This was the joy of being retired and at the time knowing very few people in the neighborhood. There was little on my agenda and truly no other place I would rather be.

Just the word linger has a feeling of slowness to it. It is like sitting in an overstuffed chair and feeling it close in around and hold you in place. It is as if the sides of the chairs have become giant arms caressing you like a familiar friend. As the minutes pass by, I even find myself saying the words, "Let me linger here with God." And I never ever regret the extra minutes spent with my Beloved. I simply sit in the silence listening for more or waiting for the moment that I am ready to say "Come with me into the day."

I recall the beginning of this ritual like it was yesterday. As I awoke one morning, I greeted God in thankfulness for the new day like I always did. Suddenly, I had the sensation of my entire body being lifted up and held in the open hands of my God much like you see new dads holding their tiny newborns. The difference in size between the hands of God and my adult body felt like the exact same ratio. I felt myself fall into this position of love and safety and relax.  I softly nuzzled the side of my face against the oversized fingers and took it all in; the warmth, the softness, the security of this place to call home. For months afterwards I would call of this image and sensation of being held each morning and especially if I woke during the night. I came to look forward to this extra time with God, lingering.  It has been several years since I have felt any regrets about 3 AM wake up calls for no apparent reason.  They are always another chance to be held in God's loving embrace, my body curled up into the folds of his hands.  

And so I linger as I feel my morning prayer ritual come to a close.  Just a few more minutes, just a little bit longer.  The I and me, the lover and the beloved holding each other's gaze as we turn and together greet the day.  

Zooming Out: The Long View

 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.