Pondering Privilege

 The term privilege has taken on a heavy weight in recent years as those of us who have had it begin to realize just how much of a difference it makes to those who don't.  In a recent air travel escapade the word came to linger with me and become a part of my spirituality.  Every now and then the mundane thoughts of my meandering mind somehow take on an existence in the holy.  

The short version of my air travel story is that a planeload of people disembarked in an unintended destination and were forced to wait many hours before they could be reunited with their loved ones in the scheduled airport.  As humans are prone to do, they look outside the box for solutions to problems and those with resources have a wider selection of tools from which to draw.  During the extended layover, several people chose to find their own transportation back home.  It was only as we re-entered the plane that we came to realize that those who accessed another option out were all those in first class; all those with privilege.  Personally, this thought landed with a thud as Uber-ing out had definitely been a thought that crossed my mind.  But I chose patience and trust in place of executing my personal will on a problem that already had a solution. This was definitely a moment of growth for me.

At times, thoughts like this stick around because I start seeing them lived out in many different avenues of life.  A few days later I was involved in a conversation about public education where the parent suggested that children of resourced (synonym for privileged) families are able to achieve success by being placed in accelerated or advance placement classes and hence avoid being placed in general population groupings. I immediately began thinking about all the euphemisms we have for privileged and resourced and the ways they/we have of negotiating the systems so the haves continue to be the haves and the have nots are left on the edges of society and economic growth.  As I continued to ponder this academic view of privilege I remembered by strong stance just last spring on limiting the incoming class size at Nativity school and suddenly the voice of privilege was my own.  I, too was playing a role in keeping out the "general population."  

As the word privilege evolved in my thoughts and transformed into resource, I indeed saw it everywhere.  Although I am a renter, I live in a fairly upscale part of town so it wasn't hard to locate.  The simple act of meeting a friend at our local rose garden was an exercise in seeing it played out.  When you think nothing of meeting in a place where other people who come, take selfies, you are living in the midst of privilege, resource, and an amazing gift of Creation.  Gradually, I was led to removing the labels and seeing all of this at God's gifts. We are the recipients and it is up to each of us to determine how to use these gifts and share them with others. I am deeply aware that my gifts have made it possible for me to retire, to donate money and goods, and to fly across the country to visit my family.  I am a person of privilege, the receiver of a generous God who gives lavish gifts.  I give thanks for this each day and continue to call myself to the mirror and ask what I am doing to share these resources of first class seats with those in coach on our metaphorical plane of life.  

Another Look at Freedom

 The value of freedom can have many interpretations and it is one that I have traditionally shied away from.  I embrace the notion of freedom under the umbrella of God's will vs free will.  But being raised in the midwest in the '50s, there was little opportunity to think about living with freedom as a value that might guide my life's path. I learned early in childhood the "right" way to do things so other options felt far outside of my understanding of the world. Ignatius brings us another definition of freedom by inviting us to indifference to all things in the world. This was a difficult concept for me to completely understand and accept. I was being told that I should neither prefer health or sickness, wealth or poverty, success or failure, a long or short life.  We lean into whatever brings us closer to God. Sadly, many times those things are sickness, poverty, failure, and a life cut short.  

But this past week, I came to understand yet another meaning of freedom.  Due to air travel delays and cancellations as well as an incoming hurricane, I made the decision to fly back home rather than to Florida to visit my mom.  This meant I would be home for a total of four days when the rest of the world thought I was away.  I immediately felt a sense of freedom, the freedom of obligations that the following week I would be introducing into my retirement plan.  I did not have the intention of secluding myself away so those people with whom I was in contact, I advised of my plans and anyone else who inquired about my safety from the hurricane, I also informed that I had returned home.  I scheduled a few social engagements over the four days but the euphoria of freedom continued to pervade my being. I began to think more deeply about this and embrace it as a new way of moving in the world.  What if I were able to lean into this feeling and find new ways to bring the sense of freedom into my life? I questioned my desire to lead from the comfort I find in a daily/weekly schedule.  This new approach did not throw the schedule away.  I still began each day with a potential list of things to do but the order and timeframe was no longer required.  I began to CHOOSE each item.  Right now I want to call my aunt, right now I want to read the paper.  I entered into each thing with greater desire and somethings just didn't get done on the day they were anticipated. But gradually, I came to trust myself and know that the things that needed doing were done.  There it is!  The key word is trust. Trust in God, trust in me, trust in our relationship that I will be led exactly where I need to be.

Daily Miracles

 Not long ago, I had reached the end of my rope on the stain removal of a favorite shirt of mine.  I had no idea of the source of the stain but had tried several options with zero results.  So my one last attempt was taking down from the laundry room shelf, my old friend, Clorox bleach.  Either the the shirt would disintegrate before my very eyes or I would have solved the problem and would get many more wearings out of my shirt.  I poured a bit in a small bowl and inserted the stained portion of the shirt and voila! the stain disappeared almost magically before my eyes in seconds and my only response was, "It's a miracle." And my mind continued to whirl.  Who invented this magical solution? How did it happen? How many years have humans been turning to bleach as that one last chance to solve this very problem? If you're wondering the same it was before the time of Jesus! And then my small brain continued its whirl around miracles.  What if we took the time to consider all the small miracles that happen every day? What if we took the time just to be present to all the goodness we witness in our mundane lives and rebranded them as "miracles?"  

Let me begin:                                                                                                                                      

• The morning sunrise
• The mixture of water, ground coffee, and a heat source to bring joy to start the day
• My body that allows me to inhale and exhale each breath and take my morning walk
• Beautiful flowers that bloom with only the addition of light and water
• My children and grandchildren and their loving partners
• The ability we have to video chat with our loved ones around the world and any time of day

Each and every one of these daily events becomes a small miracle as we view it through the lens of gratitude and ingenuity. I certainly don't have the skills to bring about the daily beauty of the rotation of the earth or of bringing a plant into bloom, let alone the fertilization of an egg that would result in the amazing people that have become my children and grandchildren. I am awed by each of these events; even the simply act of making coffee. Coming face to face with the simple removal of a stain by using a product that is accessible at any grocery store turned my perspective the tiniest of degrees and suddenly everything became a miracle that day. It was a minute action in a small glass bowl with no deeper thought than "what if I tried bleach?" There isn't a day that goes by that I don't thank the Creator for putting me in this place and time where I can be the recipient of each and every one of these daily miracles.  

Who/What is God to you? Who/What are You to God?

 These are not easy questions and their answers are a work in progress; these questions seem to keep coming across my landscape.  They show up in spirituality podcasts, they arise in Zoom meetings about spiritual direction, they come up often in conversations and prayer. So it's time to take a stab at the answers as best I can. This is a post that I will put a pin in because I have no doubt that over the next few years the answers will continue to grow and evolve.  

God is as close as my breath.  These words often begin my morning prayer as a reminder that I am never alone. I believe that the Holy Spirit resides in me and as my paraclete, operates as my advocate, counselor, and helper.  This paraclete is my greatest cheerleader and in unexplainable ways leads me onward, helping me to believe in the possible. As I read the gospel each morning, I pray and journal about how I can take on the thoughts and actions of Jesus as my own. Jesus is the role model of living out love in the world.  God is Creator,  Source of love, and worthy of my devotion and adoration.  

A few months ago in a Spiritual Listening workshop I wrote this in my journal:  The spirit of God is with me at all times. God is always here and available. God wants nothing more than to be in relationship with each of us.  We hold the power that decides the when and where and how our relationship will grow and mature. I need only take a breath and turn my attention to God.  God waits on me and looks with love each and every time I draw near to the Spirit.  God is merciful and just.  God is the prodigal father waiting in the road for our humble return.  We come with broken hearts and God wraps us in God's loving embrace, refusing to enter into conversation of our faults or misdeeds.  God is love.  There is nothing we can ever do that will separate us from this eternal and unconditional love.  

The followup question is much more difficult to answer.  Who am I to God; I am Christ on earth.  I am now the face and hands and feet of Jesus.  I am the church alive in the world. Those that I touch and welcome into the God's realm come because I am able to take on the compassionate face of Jesus. It is now I that say the words, "Come and see."

More to come...

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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.