Detachment

There has been a growing awareness in me for a quality that I do not possess. I could never name it, just describe the effects of it: peace, acceptance, joy despite uncertainty and trials. And I recognized it in other people, some I knew well...some I merely brush up against in books. Reading Kathleen Norris this rainy afternoon I came across the word that was missing from my vocabulary and from the experience of my soul. She introduces the word detachment as not being the word we have grown accustomed to in our society: someone who has selfishly removed themselves from the people and life around them. The monks interpretation of this word could not be more different. "It means not allowing either wordly values or self-centerdness to distract us from what is most essential in our relationship with God, and with each other." A 6th century monk , Dorotheus of Gaza says that detachment is "being free from wanting certain things to happen" and trusting God in such a way that "what is happening will be the thing you want and you will be at peace with all."
      Over last summer while I was pregnant with Jack I began to search out books about midwives and their stories. One in particular began to show me this lack in my life. It was a true story of a midwife that went to live among the Amish and how their lives so impacted her own. There would be great tragedy, like the death of a baby or a husband, and while there would be grief there would also be an almost irritating passivity. Questions were not hurled to the heavens, there was not bitterness or wrath. Merely sadness mingled with a peace that was born out of acceptance. What will be will be. This grated against my American, need to be in control, need to understand mind. Yet I was strangely drawn to it.

Over the last few months the Lord has shown me Psalm 131, its beautiful, sweet imagery of a weaned child resting on his mothers lap not asking great questions, just being, spoke to me and brought me peace. I could relate to this picture, I like it, it was very sweet and made me think warm thoughts about God. This was until last Saturday and things were not going my way. A trip I had been planning feel through, my husband was not doing what I wanted him to do, neither were my kids. Heck, my whole life has been like this...never getting to do what I wanted to do! Wisely, my husband sent me packing. I ended up in a secluded woods, back against tree, my Bible opened in front of me. And God showed up. He really did and it was not comfortable or sweet. He showed me those last chapters in Job, which basically can be summed up as " who do you think you are??" Do you really think that life should go your way? That you should be in control of it? No more pictures of a sweet infant on his mothers lap, in the words of my sister I was a defiant 2 year old and needed to be reminded of my place. And just like children are relieved with boundaries, animals rest when they know their fence line, I felt a huge burden lifted when He confronted me. I can control nothing, not even my own little life, but that's ok because He can and He does a much better job. And I want to grow in this discipline of detachment, of accepting whatever happens because it all comes from Him and He is the giver of all good gifts (James 1). One of the main qualities needed for this is humility: I know I am but dust and I will not speak evil of my Maker.

A laying down in the dirt

                            This morning I am praying for a friend who is going to the hospital to have a much anticipated baby girl, and praying for a friend who is also losing a much anticipated baby. It would have been her first, she had patiently waited out her 30s to marry the man God had for her, and finally her longing to be a mother was going to be fulfilled.
   Then there is this horrible loss and how do you pray? And how do you make sense of this? I don't always understand the ways of the Lord. I was just reading in Acts about the persecution of the early church. James the brother of John is killed right away then Herod sets his sights on Peter. Peter is captured and imprisoned to wait until a certain execution. However, Peter is miraculously released by glowing angels. He escapes unhurt. These two men have their stories told just verses apart, yet such different endings. It begs the question, does God love one more than the other? Is He blessing one and cursing one, or is something else we cannot see with our physical eyes happening? Can there be life through death? Does joy really come in the morning? Jesus is a good one to handle these questions. Out of His dark night of white hot suffering and the following coldness of death comes the radiance of the resurrection morning. Talk about joy coming in the morning! So possibly these sufferings my friend is living through and the seeming incongruence between the treatment of James and Peter are merely a planting. A laying down in the earth of precious seeds. Seeds that will not be wasted but simply need some time to understand why they are there.

Purpose with peace

                     The older one is leaning over the younger, teaching her letters and numbers……feeling so helpful and important. She is being so patient and understanding and I feel a pang of remorse that I do not sound like that more often.  There is also this, this understanding of how they both feel. The oldest needing this moment of being needed, the younger passively accepting the “help”.  There is the familiar voice that I now realize I have lived with most of my days, a voice of shame. A voice that drives me to feverish busyness and at the same time shuts me down to an almost comatose state. This state Kathleen Norris and monks of old called acedia.  Not quite depression, but acedia is defined as a state of restlessness and an inability to either work or pray. When this comes upon me I feel desperation to do meaningful work, to make a difference, to give back not just take, and simultaneously all that I do seems pointless. It has been done better by someone else; it will just have to be done again tomorrow.  Often this leads me to taking on commitments and becoming busy to assuage a vague feeling of guilt and in reality accomplishing very little of real worth. There is a better way, a way to walk in peace and purpose.  For me it has involved several steps, and it is a continual process I have to circle back to.

1.       Give thanks. For everything, be specific.

2.       Live in the moment, not the big picture. We do not know the big picture, all we have is this moment and He is the only One who sees where all this is headed.

3.       Do the thing in front of me: laundry, dishes, change a diaper, read a book to an unhappy child.

4.      Do something creative. Even as simple as baking a new dessert, writing down thoughts, read a good book, go for a walk.

5.       Do something for someone else: make a call, write a letter, bring a meal.

Take, O Lord, and receive my entire liberty,
my memory, my understanding and my whole will.
All that I am and all that I possess You have given me.
I surrender it all to You
to be disposed of according to Your will.
Give me only Your love and Your grace;
with these I will be rich enough, and will desire nothing more.

~St. Ignatius of Loyola