Becky Eldredge's Blog, page 11

Belonging: A Chapel of No

It was “No.” As clear as day.  I had prayed for an answer, and I heard the “No”.  I wanted it to be yes… so, so, so badly. I was devastated. I remember the place, the people, the moment in that chapel. Even more so, I can recall the feeling that God had led me to a dead-end in the road. God had put desires in my heart, a longing to serve, and then constructed a solid wall around that call. There was no viable outlet to live out my calling. I felt angry, let down, and very alone.  If this is “no”… what could “yes” possibly be? 

My image of discernment at this mid-twenties stage of my life was Ignatius at the fork in the road “Show me the path, Lord.” I tell God what my two (or maybe three) ideas are and then God will tell me which of my brilliant ideas is the greater good. I moved through the steps of prayerful decision making, completed all the homework, and waited for my divinely inspired answer. But the answers were no, no, and more no. Why would God lead me down a road to nowhere? What could that mean? 

God, did you forget me? Did you mess up and put someone else’s calling inside of me? I can’t hear one more “no.” Dead ends… brick walls…locked doors. 

But I was not at a fork in the road, a brick wall, or a locked door at all. I was still on a journey forward. I slowly began to accept that God did not make a mistake with me.  Although the “no” responses were screaming in my ears, they were also nudging me forward towards a whispering “yes,” one that I could barely make out. 

I wanted my calling to be a perfectly formed puzzle, one where all the pieces fit together nicely and make the beautiful picture that was on the box. But what happens when I start to put together the pieces and what takes shape is something totally new and unexpected? How do I handle these extra pieces that don’t seem to fit anywhere, and frankly don’t really go with the overall scene I am trying to make? 

I began to see that God’s dream for me is only partially lived out at any moment in time. The pieces of the puzzle taking form right now may still shift. It isn’t just that I am growing, but that the ways I am living out my calling in life (or vocation) change over time as new realities present themselves and new gifts are allowed to emerge. My identity still includes the desires that were not meant to be (a teacher, a ballerina, a doctoral student). Who I am also includes the dreams that have yet to come to fruition, even those that may never happen in my lifetime. Those extra pieces of myself that don’t seem to fit anywhere also have value, and are holy and true as well.

When I experience this restlessness, this sense that I don’t really belong in my own life, it is often because God has slowly been handing me extra pieces of my life puzzle.  Sometimes these clues don’t make sense yet, or can feel like a distraction. They can raise doubts or heighten existing insecurities. My instinct is to cram them into position, or throw them away as being useless. 

What if God is asking me to hold these pieces of myself in reverence? The “chapel full of no” is not just a place where every discernment feels like a wall closing in on me, blocking off an option forward. That chapel of no is actually a safe place to imagine all the possibilities God has placed within my heart. What if God is waiting there for me, ready to transform all the “no” responses into a deeper “yes” that had been brewing all along?

Go Deeper:

Check out more from the “When the Road Forks” Series to see how many of the Into the Deep writers have prayed through these types of moments. Read more on finding this sense of belonging in Becky Eldredge’s The Inner Chapel .Consider Gretchen Crowder’s Three Steps Forward Approach to handling a difficult discernment.

Photo by Gregory Hayes on unsplash.com 

 

Belonging: Family

“It’s because he has not yet found his people, Gretchen.”

This was one line that stuck with me all last year when I was agonizing over switching my oldest son to a school specifically for learning differences. They were words spoken by an educator helping me with the process. I had agonized over this decision for months, weighing the pros and cons, trying to figure out what the “right” way of proceeding was. That was when this educator asked me: “Gretchen, does he have close friends yet? Like the kind of friends that get him?” After my response, she uttered the words that would stick with me for some time: “It’s because he has not yet found his people.”

We moved my son to the new school in the Fall of this school year, and he is definitely on a blessed journey of finding his people. I am so grateful for that. This school has given him so much, and through its education of parents as well as students, this school has given me so much as well. It has led our family on a journey of discovery that has led my oldest to find his people at home as well as at school.

As I learned more about learning differences and ADHD, I was able to recognize the signs in my younger two boys. I was able to get them diagnosed and get them interventions a whole year earlier than my oldest son. I remember when I sat with the psychologist going over the results, I remarked how incredible it was that all three of my boys had this in common. I knew that learning differences and ADHD meant hurdles they would have to overcome, but I also knew that they shared a unique way of looking at the world. I commented, “How great is it that they all managed to find their people right in their own home!” 

The psychologist looked at me quizzically and said: “You do know that ADHD and learning differences are hereditary, right? They were likely to have this in common, and they are also likely to have it in common with a parent as well.” I went home and chewed on his words for a long time. I found myself almost instinctively expanding my google searches on ADHD specifically from “ADHD in young boys” to “ADHD in women.” 

I’m 41 years old, wouldn’t I have known by now?! I thought as I typed “ADHD in women” into the google search bar and pressed enter.  Every list of signs and symptoms of ADHD in women that popped up was like my life written out on a page. I found myself answering “yes” over and over again to online diagnostic questions. “Do you frequently lose common items?” Yes. “Do you forget what you are talking about mid-sentence?” Yes. “Can you hyperfocus on something you find interesting for hours?” Yes. “Do you struggle to do less interesting things?” Yes. “Do you have trouble sitting still?” Yes. “Do you get lost in familiar places?” Oh my God, yes.

One night, I was sitting on my phone on the couch researching ADHD in women once again, and I stopped to ask my husband a question, “If the boys get this from a parent, which parent do you think they get this from?” He answered almost without thinking, “You.”

Between his response and my searches, it  was like a lightbulb went off in my head. Everything that had made me feel so different from other people all my life was summed up in the descriptions I found of ADHD in women. 

In January of this year, I was officially diagnosed with ADHD from the same educational psychologist that diagnosed my three sons. I’m still working through exactly what that means. I know that I have developed lots of strategies over the years that helped me be a successful grad student and a successful adult, but I also know that there are more strategies and tools that are available to me now that I know about ADHD. 

One of the things that has been so enlightening for me over the last couple months is seeing my children through this new lens of my own diagnosis. They are my people, and I am theirs. I understand more about them and I am more capable of helping them be successful than I realized. But most importantly, I can show them that intelligent, capable, creative, and wonderful people have ADHD. Intelligent, capable, creative, and wonderful people learn differently than others. I can help them be proud of who they are and who God created them to be as I learn to do the same for myself. After all, each of us were uniquely created by God with an important purpose in this world, ADHD and all. 

I know that perhaps you don’t relate to the ADHD or the learning differences part of my story. But I hope that if you relate to the feeling that you don’t belong, that you don’t have your people right under your own roof, that something I offered here is helpful. 

One thing I have learned over the last few years of parenting is that belonging in a family can’t happen until you understand yourself better. I want my children to never be afraid of asking questions, doing research, talking to experts, and seeking a better understanding of themselves. I want them to always have the courage to seek the tools that will help them be exactly who God made them to be. I believe that God wants that for us – to know who we are and were uniquely created to be. I hope that if they do, they will be able to form their own homes someday that are places of welcome and belonging.  I hope they will always have their people.

Go Deeper:

Praying When It’s Hard: Praying When You Feel Like You Are Not Enough by Kathy PowellFor more about fostering self awareness in order to serve others check out this Into The Deep Article by Vinita Hampton Wright.If you’d like to learn more about ADHD in Women check out this article on the ADDitude Magazine site.

Photo by Annie Spratt on unsplash.com 

 

Belonging: You Are Made for Us

We are us. Belonging to a community means there is an “us” and not just an “I.” Even before I was born, I belonged to an “us.” My twin brother and I were born into a beautiful family of six. My dad was born into a family of 12 and my mom into a family of seven. I had more cousins than one could imagine and it wasn’t the distant sort that you “hardly ever talk to.” No, it was the sort that you live your life with. I grew up belonging to so many different people.

So, when I moved away from my small town into other Louisiana cities and towns, it was hard to feel a sense of connection. Because I worked mostly from home and traveled as an itinerant minister for years, I lived in a place that felt distant and disconnected from my life even though my physical self existed in that place. 

Covid has made this experience even more explicit for many who work or have worked from home. One of the major effects of the Covid pandemic has been the disconnection from community. 

Saint Mother Teresa famously said, “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.” Though our physical distance is proximate during these Covid times, our belonging feels disconnected. The disconnection feels lonely and isolating, and this disconnection increases our mental health concerns like anxiety and depression. We all see how the rise of these concerns have plagued our families, friends, and communities. 

It is our call to reach into the lives of others, especially those that feel disconnected, and form connections. Pope Francis likes to call this motion of discipleship “accompaniment.” In his encyclical, Joy of the Gospel, Pope Francis notes that, “The pace of this accompaniment must be steady and reassuring, reflecting our closeness and our compassionate gaze which also heals, liberates and encourages growth…” (169). We are called to “show up” in the lives of others. Sometimes I feel, in our modernity, that we feel as though we need to wait for some important event to happen before we bother people by texting, calling, or visiting. 

When I feel distant from my community, I find ways to belong. For me, it has been about looking for friends who have similar likenesses and activities. I have found friends in my children’s activities or in book studies or church and social communities that I find interesting. For me, it is deciding that creating intentional community matters because we belong together. 

Pope Francis is calling us back to each other. He is inviting us to walk and live together. It isn’t some intellectual act. It is the most natural human act of belonging to each other. 

Sister Thea Bowman’s preachings ring in my ears as I consider Pope Francis’ action of accompaniment and belonging. Sister Thea would greet people as she met them, “Hello, sister” or “Hello, brother.” She would remind people, “We are family.” She so deeply understood how to live in a community that it flowed out of her to every person that she met.  She preached, “Remember who you are and whose you are!” She saw our humanity as an action of belonging to not only each other, but to Jesus. For Sister Thea, relationships defined our humanity as well as our Christianity. 

We are called to remember this even if we are drowning in loneliness. Remember, you were made not just for yourself but for us. Every single cell of your body was made so that we might get to experience you. God made you with great intention and unique gifts. If the world was a big gumbo, you are an important ingredient and we wouldn’t taste the same without you! Our community is you and me. I invite you to reach out and text, call, or visit someone. I invite you to pause and drink a cup of coffee with someone else savoring their unique existence. 

We are sisters and brothers. Father Gregory Boyle reminds us that we are “kin”. He explains, “Kinship—not serving the other, but being one with the other. Jesus was not ‘a man for others;’ he was one with them. There is a world of difference in that.” We are called to model Jesus. Jesus was a man that helped and healed others, but he was also a man who lived with us. In fact, the simple act of being born among us tells us who Jesus is. Jesus is with us. We are called to not be for each other but WITH each other. We are us– a community.

Go Deeper:

Do yourself a favor and watch Sr. Thea Bowman address to the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops in 1989: Sr. Thea’s Address to U.S. BishopsRead Five Ways of Praying Through Sorrow with Becky Eldredge.Read some books by Father Gregory Boyle, S.J.Consider watching this power blog about “showing up”.National Crisis & Support Resources: These websites and hotlines exist to support you and stand with you. Please do not hesitate to reach out.Substance Abuse & Mental Health Service Administration Hotline: 1-800-622-HELP (4357)National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255National Alliance on Mental Illness Helpline: 1-800-950-6264 or textWatch Becky’s conversation with Fr. Gallagher’s on Discernment in Turbulent TimesLooking for ways to “show up,” especially for people who fiercely struggle to belong, watch this video.

Photo by Tyler Nix on unsplash.com 

 

Belonging: Belonging in Relationships

My best friend and I recently spent a long weekend getaway in Michigan. We stopped by a local vineyard to sample the wine and ran into a married couple on a Sunday outing of their own. The husband immediately cracked a joke with the hostess, before pulling up a spot alongside us in the tasting room. 

They were funny! He had a quick wit and a hearty laugh, while she interjected to finish the punch line to all his jokes. I imagine they are the kind of couple who make friends easily and throw good parties; someone you’d want to have as your next-door neighbor. It was easy to make conversation with them, and we found a common connection with our travels across Central America. They had lived all over the country and recently retired in the area where we were staying.  

“What brought you to Michigan?” we asked. 

“We have a son who died, and our only daughter lives not far from here. We didn’t want to miss seeing our grandchildren grow up” he replied.  

To be honest, I didn’t give his comment much thought at the moment. We each told a few more stories and savored a last sip of wine. As they got up to leave, he turned to us one last time. “Thanks for making me laugh,” he said. “I really needed that … today would have been our son’s birthday.” 

My friend and I looked at each other as the couple walked away, recognizing that we had inadvertently become vessels of God’s grace. You never know what someone is carrying. We all desire to belong, and every part of us – including our grief, disappointment, and hurt – desires to be noticed.  

We are designed to be in relationship with one another. Belonging might begin with a set of common interests or shared experiences, but our relationships expand when we find true acceptance and emotional safety with one another. What happens when you belong in a relationship – whether with a friend, relative, or complete stranger? How are you different when you’re in a place of belonging?  

Belonging brings a certain freedom. There is freedom to be exactly who you are at that very moment. I can be angry or sad or resentful. I’m free to express my joys, hopes, and crazy dreams for the future. I don’t fear being judged or worry about how I’m being perceived. Tears flow as freely as laughter. Everything is OK (even when it’s not OK!) because I belong here. 

Belonging evokes gratitude and generosity. I think about the sense of belonging we attribute to certain institutions – the places we went to school, our church community, a favorite sports team. Often, we repay that sense of belonging with our gratitude and generosity. The same could be said of our relationships. There is a desire to express my thanks, and my belonging turns outward by sharing this gift with others. 

Belonging invites us to be vulnerable. Who is that person with whom you can be most fully yourself? Vulnerability is likely hard for many of us. It requires us to take off the mask of self sufficiency and dismantle the walls of perfection. We aren’t as fully put together on the inside as it would appear. Those who are able to be vulnerable with others have likely spent some time being vulnerable and honest with themselves. When we know we belong, we can risk sharing the deepest parts of ourselves, including those less than glamorous moments.

Of course, our true belonging comes in our relationship with God. It is the place of ultimate belonging. In the words of the prophet Isaiah, God proclaims, “I have called you by name, you are mine! You are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you!” (Isa 43:1,4) In God, there is a deep interior freedom – freedom from fear, which gives way to freedom for following God’s call. Our belonging is expressed in gratitude for all that God has created and given to us. As we allow ourselves to become vulnerable in God’s presence, there is forgiveness, mercy, and acceptance knowing that God sees our deepest selves. 

I often think back to the couple we met at the vineyard. Why did they choose to be vulnerable with us, in sharing their laughter and their grief? How do we create a space where people can belong in our homes, our society, and our faith community? It begins with a smile, a laugh, a simple hello, and maybe even a glass of wine. The old adage holds true – be kind for you never really know what someone else is going through.

Go Deeper:

Pray with the song “Belong” by Chris de Silva:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i6NApVut9Ag We subsequently learned that the couple from the vineyard lost their son to suicide as a result of bullying at school. They’ve spent a significant amount of time ensuring that young people experience a place of belonging. If you or someone you love is struggling to belong, know that resources are available – You Are Not Alone: Resources and Support for Those Affected by Suicide Promise of God: We Are Never Alone by Becky EldredgePraying When You Feel Like You’re Not Enough by Kathy Powell

Photo by Amer Mughawish on unsplash.com 

 

Ignatian Prayers for the New Year: Help Me See with New Eyes

When I look back at all that has changed due to the global pandemic, one thing that remained surprising and challenging for me was the drastic change in decision making. Instantly, every decision became much heavier, often with an added fear of a life or death consequence, and often with ever-changing variables. Decisions that used to be quick and small, now required careful weighing of all the angles and the solution often required sacrifice. 

Many new decisions were also thrust upon us. In the Summer of 2020, when my husband and I faced the previously unheard of decision of whether we would send our kids to school in-person or virtual, we already had decision fatigue. I knew we could not make another decision without help and turned to the trusty discernment wisdom of St Ignatius. 

I reminded myself of the four steps, 1) pray 2) gather data 3) come to a decision 4) act. Feeling grateful for a framework, I looked to the first step. In my overwhelmed state, I went looking for words that I could repeat and make my own, to help me stay grounded in prayer through this decision, and in general, through this difficult period of decision-making. I found these words of personal prayer from Pedro Arrupe, SJ:

Grant me, O Lord, to see everything now with new eyes,

to discern and test the spirits

that help me read the signs of the times,

to relish the things that are yours, and to communicate them to others.

Give me the clarity of understanding that you gave Ignatius.

This prayer became my lifeline. I borrowed my daughter’s markers, wrote it out on a piece of printer paper, and taped it to the wall next to my computer. I prayed often for “new eyes” – to see the problem and possible solutions with the eyes of God and not my own. 

In the end, my husband and I reached a decision with clarity and agreement. Unfortunately, the day after we felt such unanimous clarity, the path we chose was no longer a possibility and we were back to the beginning. Blerg. I was surprised though, that I still felt tremendous peace. God had walked us to the first answer and surely God would help us again. The following week was such a blur as we scrambled to gather new information in a whole new direction and found doors opening for us. This second decision was entirely unexpected, but unfolded so effortlessly that it felt easy “to read the signs of the times.” The final decision caught both my husband and me off guard.  We certainly would not have arrived there with peace and assurance if we had not walked the path of discernment together with God.

My hand-written in marker version of the prayer still hangs by one small piece of tape on my wall. I continue to pray it often, but it also serves as a reminder that seeing things with my own eyes brings overwhelm and uncertainty, but seeing things with the “new eyes” of God, brings peace and clarity.

Go Deeper:

Read more about discernment wisdom from Becky here. Read about Four Strategies for Discernment by Vinta Hampton Wright. Chapter 9 of Busy Lives and Restless Souls talks about discernment. You can purchase the book here.

Photo by Becca Tapert on unsplash.com 

 

Ignatian Prayers for the New Year: Retreating, Silently

It seems that the Ignatian emphasis on silence and especially the silent retreat is one that either appeals to people or puts fear into them.  We really don’t like to be silent.  But if you’ve been on a silent retreat, you know the beauty of it.  If you’re one of those people who would rather have a root canal than subject yourself to extended silence, or if you are on the fence about whether you should experience such a retreat, let me put your fears to rest.

SIlent retreats have been around for a long time.  Recall in scripture how Jesus would often go away by himself to pray and be silent.  Similarly, when St. Ignatius was recuperating from his cannonball wound, he spent many days in secluded silence, talking to God, reading the bible, reflecting and writing about the insights he had from his prayer time.  His recovery time bore the fruit of the discernment of spirits and led to a powerful conversion.  

The fact is, there is something about being silent that frees us to draw closer to God.  Silence situates our hearts to receive God’s presence as nothing else can.  

I come from a long line of introverts on my father’s side of the family.  Being quiet and still comes naturally to me.  And so, when someone suggested that I make a silent retreat, I decided to attend.  I arrived at the retreat center with the usual clothing, toothbrush, etc.  This was my first silent retreat, and I assumed all I had to do was not talk.  And so in addition to my clothes, toothbrush and personal items, I brought along a  suitcase full of books, puzzles, and other things to keep me busy while I was being silent.  

What I didn’t yet understand was that silence is so much more than not talking.  Silence is a frame of mind, a stillness of heart that goes beyond “no sound”.  At first, it was awkward.  But I prayed with the scriptures that my director had given me, and when I wasn’t praying, I read books or worked on the puzzles I had brought.  If I had to be quiet, then I had lots of time to do other things that didn’t generate noise.  

It wasn’t until my second day there, while I was eating lunch, that I began to realize there was more to silence than not talking.  I noticed I ate more slowly and enjoyed my meal more.  Not distracted by conversation, I was fully present to what I was doing.  And I liked that.  When I shared that with my retreat director, she just smiled and told me to take a walk that afternoon after I prayed. Just walk slowly, purposefully, and listen.  On my walk, I heard birds singing as I never had before.  I heard creaky swings and cows mooing.  And I liked that, too. I seemed more calm and relaxed and so did the rest of the world around me.  

As the retreat continued, I noticed I was meeting God more deeply in prayer.  My prayer seemed to come more naturally and was rich with the feeling of God being near. My prayer times were longer than usual, I felt connected to God, and my journaling was deep.  

And just when I thought I had it all figured out, on the last night of the retreat, I had the most amazing, totally unsolicited experience of God that I had ever had up to that point in my life.  Sitting alone in the chapel, I started to cry.  What is this about, I wondered.  Why am I crying?  The tears kept coming and lasted a long while.  It was troubling at first, but then it felt cleansing.  I began to feel lighter in spirit.  And that’s when God poured unconditional love on me.  At that moment, I couldn’t think, I could only be.  I was just available there to receive all that God wanted to give me.  It was the first time I had experienced God’s love for me that way.  The tears turned into healing love and that in turn moved me to a deep gratitude.  I can truly say that I left the chapel that night a changed person, a loved sinner.  And I didn’t even know I had issues!

Was it the silence?  I’m sure of it.  God was teaching me that true silence, silence of the heart, was what I needed to be still and know God.  It’s a different kind of being, not just the lack of noise, but an interior quiet which opens up the heart to God-given graces, insights, healing and possibilities.  So this was what a silent retreat was all about!   

I still  make an annual silent retreat, only now, I don’t have the suitcase full of books and puzzles.  Instead, I have learned that I only need to bring an open and generous heart.  God will do the rest.

Go Deeper:

If you’ve never made a silent retreat, check out a Jesuit retreat center.     If you’ve been on a silent retreat, what was your experience? How did you embrace the silence?  How did God  meet you on your retreat?If you can’t get away on retreat, you can still benefit from silence in your day.  Spend five minutes several times a day just being still with God.  You’ll be amazed at what a blessing this can be!Consider praying with: “In quietness and confidence shall be your strength.”  Isaiah 30:15

Photo by Nick Fewings on unsplash.com 

 

Ignatian Prayers for the New Year: The Mirror in the Field

Have you ever wanted to go to God in prayer, but didn’t feel like you could? Maybe it’s been a while since you have prayed, maybe you’ve said or done something unkind to someone and you feel guilty for your actions, maybe your heart is broken from grief or from the words or actions of someone else, or maybe the false spirit has momentarily convinced you that you are not good enough to go to God. No matter what the reason is, I am sure we have all at one time or another felt we were not worthy to approach God in prayer, we’ve felt unworthy of God’s love.

During the preparation days of the Spiritual Exercises, we are invited to pray with several different scripture passages and meditations to help us really, truly know, deep in our bones, that we are worthy of God’s love. Knowing we are worthy of God’s love is the foundation for the rest of the Exercises. 

One meditation that changed my view of God in prayer is Jesuit Fr. Joe Tetlow’s meditation on The Mirror in the Field. During this meditation, we are invited to imagine we are walking through a field during a beautiful spring day. The sun is shining, and the field is full of wildflowers. As we approach the top of a hill, we see a long floor mirror nestled among the flowers facing the sun. As we get closer and circle the mirror, we notice its age. It is broken and chipped. We begin to wonder why the mirror is here.

Returning to the front of the mirror, we notice how brightly the sun’s light shines. The mirror is so saturated by the light that we cannot look directly at it without hurting our eyes. The sun pours its light into the mirror completely, holding none of its light back. The mirror, though flawed, accepts the sun’s light. The broken and chipped pieces of the mirror are trivial compared to the light shining upon it. Fr. Tetlow tells us, “The mirror throws back to the sun all light that melts in its heart. It holds no light back. It throws all its light from its heart.”

Surprised, we now turn to face the sun. We raise our faces and turn our hands out to receive the light. We simply let the sun fill us. Once we are filled, we, like the mirror, return the light towards the sun. For a moment, we’ve forgotten about our broken and chipped pieces. We ignore our flaws and give ourselves fully to the sun, letting it rest on our faces.

In case the metaphor is not obvious, Fr. Tetlow tells us that God is the sun, and we are the mirror. Despite our brokenness, God pours Godself into each of us fully. God fills each of us with gifts and God’s love. Like the mirror, we take in everything God so graciously pours into us, despite our flaws. We do not let our brokenness and sin prevent us from fully accepting these gifts and God’s love. Instead, we accept and embrace them, fully, and, like the mirror, we return to God all the love we can.

Filled with the outpouring of God’s love into us, we let this image fade and tell God of any insights or noticings we’ve had during our time in prayer.

To be honest, it had been awhile since I had thought about this meditation. Last weekend we went to Mass, and I was feeling unworthy of God’s love. I was not having much luck pulling myself out of the pity party I was throwing myself. But when I heard the second reading from St. Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, God made God’s self known to me. I once again believed in my heart what I knew in my head-God still loves me and I am worthy of God’s love. Instead of “love”, I heard “God’s love.”

“God’s love is patient, God’s love is kind….God’s love never fails.” (1 Corinthians 13:4a, 8a)

In my mind, I was in the field of wildflowers, once again noticing the mirror saturated by the light of the sun. I was reminded that even though I am a sinner, even though I have broken and chipped pieces, that not only am I worthy of God’s love, but God wants to pour Godself fully into me. I was once again able to focus not on my flaws, but on God’s love. I was able to face the sun with my hands turned out and fully accept God’s light and love pouring into me.

The thing is none of us are perfect. We all have broken and chipped pieces. We’ve all been hurt, we’ve all experienced heartache. God’s love is bigger than our brokenness. God’s love is bigger than our flaws. God’s love is bigger than our broken hearts and chipped pieces. God wants nothing more than to pour God’s self into each one of us. All we have to do is face the sun, with our hands and heart open to receive all that God pours into us, and be ready to shine God’s light and love back to God.

Go Deeper:

Are you struggling to remember how worthy you are of God’s love? Pray with Fr. Joe Tetlow’s meditation The Mirror in the Field .Spend time in prayer with St. Ignatius’ Suscipe prayer. Consider praying with 1 Corinthaians 13.

Photo by Kent Pilcher on unsplash.com 

 

Ignatian Prayers for the New Year: Becoming a “Fool for Christ” (Ignatius’ Prayer for Humility)

There are only a few times in my life in which I have willingly invited myself into poverty. Even when we lost everything in Hurricane Katrina, I still grasped for all things. I remember immediately venturing into a store to purchase baby clothes, wash cloths, and kitchen towels so that I might adequately care for my family. 

There exist far fewer times in which I released my grip on power and things to invite poverty into my life. I consider moments of severe sickness in my family in which all power or control faded away. I think, too, of my children as they have grown into women and how I am releasing control of decisions in their lives. My life has mostly been, though, about control over my environment. We are taught to grow our lives, build a family, a home, and successful careers. Seeking security, we even teach our children to do the same.

In the Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius invites us to consider humility, the opposite of security. Humility is complicated. Often, we reduce humility to thinking less of ourselves, but humility is so much more than this. I once had a beautiful sister tell me that humility is not thinking less of yourself but thinking of yourself less. Humility is a posture that imitates Christ. Even at his conception, born to a poor girl in a manger, Jesus chose poverty. Mary and Joseph lacked power and wealth. Jesus grew into a young man and humbled himself at the beginning of his ministry choosing to be baptized by John. John says to Jesus:

“I need to be baptized by you, and yet you are coming to me?” Jesus said to him in reply, “Allow it now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.” (Matthew 3:14-15). 

Jesus bows his head to John, allowing him to baptize him.

He continues in his ministry of curing the diseased, possessed, mentally ill, and paralytic (Matthew 4:25). He could have climbed the highest throne, but instead resides with the weak and powerless. He stands on the Mount and explicitly teaches poverty,

Blessed are the poor in spirit,

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are they who mourn,

for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the meek,

for they will inherit the land (Matthew 5: 3-5).

He stands with those who commit adultery as well as people with various sins. He teaches using parables, inviting his followers to stand on their head and see the whole world upside down, stripping his followers of comfort and power. He then completes his life on earth, abandoned by friends and humiliated, publicly choosing death on a cross. 

To love Jesus is to know that he swims in humility. To follow Jesus and call ourselves Christians is to be willing to venture into the pool of humility where we forfeit power, control, money, and all the comforts of life. Knowing this, St. Ignatius invites retreatants near the middle of the Spiritual Exercises to consider humility. If we are to take on the name Christian and follow Christ, we must consider the posture in which he stands and actually follow. 

In the Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius invites us  into an ever-deepening understanding of humility (#165-167). Initial humility is a simple invitation to follow the commandments Jesus has provided (#165). Even though this might seem “simple,”  following the teachings he has set encourages what modern life might call “radical actions” like meekness and visiting the imprisoned. 

The “second kind of humility” invites us to detach from riches and honor. St. Ignatius invites the retreatant into “spiritual indifference”—indifference to wealth, poverty, honor, dishonor, short life, and long life (#166). We are to detach from our need to be wealthy, honored, and even alive! St. Ignatius invites us to begin placing our lives literally into the hands of God who will do with it what God chooses. 

The “third kind of humility” dives even deeper into humility, encouraging imitation of Christ in actively choosing poverty and humiliation with Christ. St. Ignatius invites us to become a “fool for Christ” (#167). We are invited to stand with the poor and the humiliated. We are to stand with those who lack food and housing. We are invited to stand with those who have sinned and experienced public humiliation in their lives—even at the water coolers of our workplaces. We are called to intentionally schedule times to feed the poor, visit the imprisoned, and support the helpless. 

This is a radical prayer– the journey into humility is a lifelong prayer that many of us will walk for the rest of our lives to varying degrees. Even as I sit now discerning finances for my soon-to-be two college students household, I look to Christ and ask for humility. How do we live simply so that others might live, Christ? Teach me Christ to give it all to you. How do we serve you God as a family seeking to use the gifts you make manifest in us so that you are known? Teach us humility, Christ. 

One way to remind ourselves of this journey into humility is to pray the Suscipe, a prayer created by St. Ignatius. Some have called this prayer “The Radical Prayer” or “The Most Dangerous Prayer”. I invite you to pray it if you dare:

Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty,

my memory, my understanding,

and my entire will,

All I have and call my own.

You have given all to me.

To you, Lord, I return it.

Everything is yours; do with it what you will.

Give me only your love and your grace,

that is enough for me.

Go Deeper:

Consider reading more on humilty here:Read Jen’s blog on praying for humility. Read Jenene’s blog Humility for the Greater Glory of God . Reflect on humility. 

Photo by Sizteen Miles Out on unsplash.com 

 

Ignatian Prayers for the New Year: Preparing to Pray

Ever feel like the quality of your prayer is a bit off?  When my regular practice starts feeling dry or stale, or like I’m just going through the motions, I find it helpful to revisit some of St. Ignatius’ “Additional Directions”  that he proposes “to help one to go through the exercises better and find more readily what [the one praying] desires.” (SpExx. #73-77)  

What am I listening for?  Am I clear about the grace I seek? 

Throughout the Exercises, St. Ignatius encourages us to set our intentions before praying, offering specific instructions for meditations and contemplations, including naming the grace, insight or emotion I seek.  This practice provides helpful grounding before turning to scripture or spiritual writings, or before turning out the lights at night.

Where is a good place for listening? Where will I go to pray? 

Whether you are a morning or evening pray-er, take a moment to consider, or reconsider, where you pray. For me, having a cup of coffee and a comfortable chair where I can see outside helps signal my body, heart, and soul that it’s prayer time. When I’m feeling dislocated by unexpected events, unsettling changes, or the first night in a new place, I’ve learned to figure out before going to bed where to find (or brew) that first cup and where I’ll carry it to pray.

Who am I listening to? Am I bringing my full attention?  

The direction I most overlook is to pause “for the space of an Our Father… and with my mind raised on high, consider that God our Lord beholds me, etc.” (SpExx #75) I confess that recently God our Lord has beheld me caught up in a different kind of “etcetera” – checking out the weather forecast, or Facebook feed, or morning news-site briefing. I’m most likely to get sidetracked on the way to prayer when I forgo the print version of my daily prayer guide and use the phone app instead. Note to self:  leave the phone beyond arm’s reach.

Would praying somewhere else help my listening?

I take St. Ignatius’ inclusion of “etcetera” here and elsewhere in the Exercises to mean “be flexible,” keep doing what works for as long as it continues to bear fruit, and if it doesn’t try something else. (SpExx #76-77). For instance, the places I pray at home vary from season to season. In summer you might find me with feet propped up on the balcony railing watching waves colored apricot by sunrise roll into the beach, or taking a to-go cup down to the water’s edge. Spring and fall I ponder the changing color of treetops in the park from the recliner in my bedroom, while during Advent and Christmas I’m drawn to curl up in the dark on the couch before the lighted tree.

Or might something else help facilitate prayer?

Most of the time I’m comfortable sitting in silence. Other times I find it helpful to begin or end with music. Occasionally I’ll pick a picture from my photo collection or draw, allowing images to help put words to feelings. Other times I might go for a walk instead of sitting still, attending to sights and sounds around me.

How is your prayer these days?

I encourage you to review your own prayer practices. 

Reconsider the time and place.  Become intentional about naming your needs and desires.Remember to behold God beholding you.  Minimize distractions. Be flexible with where, when, and how.

And as you listen more deeply for The Word in prayer, receive with a grateful heart The One who is our daily bread given to us to share for the life of the world.

Go Deeper:

Review Vinita Hampton Wright’s helpful checklist of 5 ways to create a good prayer space.Ponder Anthony de Mello, SJ’s famous quote: Behold God beholding you, and smiling.Listen to Myron Walker’s recording of Taste and See, a hymn based on Psalm 34 by James E. Moore.

Photo by kira auf der heide on unsplash.com 

 

Ignatian Prayers for the New Year: Contemplation on the Incarnation

Have you ever wondered if God really sees you? 

Have you wondered if God is watching you right now? Have you wondered if God is aware of how much you are struggling? Have you wondered if God notices when you do well? If God rejoices when you rejoice? If God cries when you cry?

I know I have wondered all of this and more. Truth be told, I desperately desire God to notice me, and at the same time I often feel incredibly guilty for desiring God to notice ME when there are billions of people God also has to pay attention to. 

How does God see each of us and all of us at the same time? What does God see when God gazes down at creation? What is God’s response?

When I was entering the second week of the Spiritual Exercises last summer, I was invited to contemplate the Incarnation – the moment when the Trinity gazed down on creation, noted the beauty and the struggle present, and decided it was time to respond. This contemplation arose from the imagination of St. Ignatius, and is a meditation on what happened right before the angel visited Mary. 

I had never thought about this moment before. Have you? 

When I was asked to imagine the Trinity looking down on creation, I immediately thought of the opening scene from a 90s’ movie called City of Angels. In the opening scene, angels dressed in unassuming black robes sit on the edges of tall buildings and perch on street signs watching over humanity. As the scene continues, angels are depicted in closer contact with human beings – gently resting their hands on individual shoulders offering each person they touch a bit of peace in the midst of the struggle of their daily lives. Despite the occasional hand resting on a shoulder, the angels are still mostly disconnected from the human beings they watch over. The humans may feel a moment of peace come over them, but they do not see the hand resting on their shoulder nor the angel in black brushing past. This opening scene shows angels filtering in and out of the lives of humanity, so near but also so very separate. 

So, when I imagined the Trinity looking down on creation, I first saw them sitting on a tall rooftop in the middle of a city like New York looking down on the bustling street corner before them. Then, I imagined them walking between the people on the street, listening to their conversations and observing people’s body language particularly in response to one another. I imagined them, much like the angels in the movie, placing their hands gently on shoulders offering peace. Then, I imagined them filtering in and out of apartment complexes and homes and shelters, under bridges and in tents, listening for each moment of joy and each moment of struggle from the human beings they adored. I imagined them looking into the eyes of each human being searching for hope and taking note of fear. 

In this contemplation, I could feel the Trinity desiring a closeness with each and every person before them. I could also feel the desire of each human being to have that brush across their shoulder be an actual hand they could clutch and hold onto. I could almost hear the Trinity saying, “Look how their hearts are rejoicing!” as well as “Look how their hearts are breaking!” I could almost feel the Trinity’s heart rejoice and break alongside those they loved.

I loved this moment in the contemplation because it reminded me that, even now, the Trinity’s heart rejoices and breaks alongside mine. Even though I cannot feel the hand upon my shoulder, this contemplation reminded me that it is there. 

The next moment I was invited to imagine was when the Trinity decided to come even closer to humanity. David Fleming, S.J., in his translation of the Spiritual Exercises, describes the moment the Trinity decides to come close to humanity as “a leap of divine joy”. He says: “God knows that the time has come when the mystery of salvation, hidden from the beginning of the world, will shine into human darkness and confusion. It is as if I can hear the Divine Persons saying, “Let us work the redemption of the whole human race; let us respond to the groaning of all creation.’”

In my contemplation, this was the most powerful moment. My imagination placed me in the scene at this moment. I felt peace come over me, and when I turned to see where it had come from, I saw the hand upon my shoulder and the flesh and bone standing before me. It was like I felt the actual leap, and it reminded me that the Trinity did not just leap for those alive 2000 years ago – the Trinity leaped for me as well. 

I may always ask the same questions that I started this piece with. I may always wonder if God really sees me and really feels with me. I think that’s part of being human. The gift of this meditation from the Spiritual Exercises for me is the ability to visualize the answers to these very questions whenever they come up for me. It gives me the opportunity to remember that there was, in fact, a moment when the Trinity decided to come close and feel with the human beings they loved.

It reminds me that the Trinity still has that desire to be close to me and you as well. I hope you consider trying this Contemplation on the Incarnation and that it brings you as much fruit as it brought me.

Go Deeper:

Read what the Spiritual Exercises taught Becky about the Incarnation here. Read more on the gift of shelter Becky has found through the Incarnation here. If you are searching for new prayers or prayer tools, check out our prayer resources here.

Photo by Veit Hammer on unsplash.com