OK, I have several Lent buddies.
If the Vatican ever needed a Lent steering committee. I have thoughts and recommendations.
I digress.
I was talking to my best friend about Lent and we were poking each other to help each other find those very vulnerable places to open up in the season. I have several blog posts forth coming about my sensitive places - it turns out I have a lot to work on.
But this post is on one of the most beautiful parts of our conversation, which turned out, to be the theme of my day.
I had been talking about leaning into the mystery of God. In this day, with science and politics and rationalism and misinformation. It is REALLY hard to lean into the mystery of God. To let go and set all those other lenses by which we filter information and experience and decision making and ethics. To embrace the idea of unknowable mystery.
We sat in silence.
After a moment my friend said...
...Like when I let go in the water and I trust it to hold me up and let me float....
I have held that image all day in my heart.
The image of God as a giant hot tub, warm and perfect, surrounding me and holding me up. And I let go into that. I simply lift my feet and gently rest, surrounded by water. I cannot help but fill my mind with the sensation of that warmth and quiet and other-worldly feel.
Today, I wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket as chilly liquid flowed into my veins. I always feel deeply grateful on infusion days. This medicine keeps me "normal." Keeps me from requiring "medical intervention." I put these things in quotes because health is really a spectrum and as I morbidly recalled yesterday, we're all dying.
For me, this medicine makes it possible to have the energy to run after my kids and all the kids in my church, to go on runs in the vineyards south of my kids school, to breathe without worrying that I can't get enough air. It's a blessing and I think of all these things when I have to psyche myself up for the IV line (I'm a total wimp inside).
So, when I saw that infusion day landed right after Ash Wednesday, I was gearing up for all kinds of "Lenty" posts. "Game on, God. What do you got." Let's wrestle with the nature of suffering.
I settled in. Got out my notebook. I curled up in my fuzzy blanket. I prayed for those much sicker than I. I soaked in the humanity - loved ones in visitor chairs sharing laughs and tears. Nurses running for crackers or blankets. I listened to my friend's playlist "Raise the vibe" a mixtape of gospel and fight songs. Songs that make you smile. Songs that remind you that life is a gift and hope is a choice. It was a good playlist. I thought about my kids. Ways to love them better.
I turned on hymns.
I closed my eyes.
I felt my blanket and the medicine flowing into my body.
I let go.
I let the mystery of God fall around me.
I landed back on that image of God as a pool of water surrounding us, holding us up. I imagined the whole room full of that water holding all of us in our chairs, in our own health journeys.
I came home and little weary, a little blah.
I plopped into my bed.
It held me. I sunk ever so slightly. I pulled the blankets around my achey joints. Again I felt God holding me, surrounding me as a blanket - soft and warm.
Soft landings, on the surface, may not feel very "Lenty."
But they are in fact, the heart of Lent.
Letting go into the loving embrace of God. Giving up our usual ways of quieting the voices in our heads - entertainment, alcohol, chocolate - this gap creates space for us to hear God calling us into a gentle place.
This is a mystery. A beautiful holy mystery. May God surround you and hold you up like water. May God move you like music. May God silence you like the ocean or a tall mountain or a redwood grove at dusk or a field of sunflowers.
May you find God this Lent and may you have the courage to let go and embrace.
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