Safe, but not Invisible

Dear Aaron,

We talked a little this summer about sharing inspirations on how to “authenticize” church. I’ve thought about you a lot, wishing I had something to share. Well tonight, I finally got some clues—not necessarily an answer, but at least new realizations of what makes church work for me.

It has been one of those days, weeks really, when I’ve made lots of mistakes—been angry when I should have been understanding, reactive rather than responsive, when my prayers to “make self-righteousness be still” (Mary Baker Eddy) didn’t seem to be doing much good…at all. When I finally realized today what a jerk I’d been, the picture I saw of myself made me want to run and hide--literally. A friend was kind (and brave) enough to be really honest with me, both in helping me wake up to how “uncharacteristic” I was being and also to how futile it is to run way. Running never solves anything. I also remembered how the desire to hide was Adam’s response when he was embarrassed because he was naked. So this desire to hide was a strong hint that perhaps I wasn’t on track.

Well, it’s Wednesday (church night), and I confess that sometimes lately church just hasn’t been doing much for me other than providing a resting place while my thoughts wander or my eyes doze. I argued, “Hadn’t I kept out of hiding all day? Wouldn’t now be a good time to nurse my guilt and hurt in the seclusion of home?”

Gratefully, the ever-present Christ in us doesn’t let us give up but keeps nudging us onward and upward. I realized that not going to church would be hiding rather than truly trying to make strides towards the healing I knew needed to continue in my heart. I got the idea to go to a little Christian Science Society downtown rather than the much larger church where I’m a member. When questioning why, the thought came, “I feel safe there.”

Hmmm, this was a new thought to me, and as I drove to church, the questioning continued. “Why do I feel safe there?...Because, I’m NOT invisible!”

It is the mortal mind that wants to be invisible when it has made mistakes, when we’re hurting and thinking we are unworthy. However, I believe the heart wants just the opposite. It sometimes seems afraid of being left alone, of its longings not being noticed or heard. (In fact, it occurs to me that this is why emotions are often so freely expressed in places like Facebook, and perhaps why I too sometimes say things that I later regret.) Our hearts don’t want to be solitary, but intimately known. The heart is made to love and be loved, to take and give courage and encouragement.

It is all too easy to hide in a large church. I could not attend for weeks and my absence might not be noted. I could fall asleep during the service or have tears streaming down my face, and no one would likely notice. But at this little church, everyone sits in a circle. I can see the tear creeping down the cheek of the person sitting across from me, and she can’t help but see my smile. When I walked in tonight, I wasn’t sure where I was emotionally, but I took comfort in knowing that if I cried, someone would notice…and care. I sensed that in this little “sanctuary,” most of the people who walked in the door did so with a willingness to let themselves be known as they were in that moment—for better or worse, without needing to fear judgment. Likewise they also accepted the responsibility of respecting each other’s emotional nakedness, and if called upon (by the simple observation of another), would respond in a way that is Christian—which Mary Baker Eddy defines as “compassionate, helpful, and spiritual.” I doubt that all this is at the forefront of consciousness while people are at church, but nonetheless, I think these may be reasons why people are willing to drive a long way to attend the Society’s services rather than choose the convenience of much closer congregations.

Surprisingly, I actually didn’t cry at church tonight, but instead found myself sharing some of these inspirations during the testimony time. I listened really well during the readings too. I am so grateful for everyone at the service, and for the Christ in my heart that led me there. I may still have some bridges to rebuild and rough edges to smooth in my life, but I left church feeling like I was once again headed in the right direction.

So, now I have two important ingredients on my list of what makes a church experience feel authentic and sacred to me—feeling safe, and not being invisible.

Maybe we can share a service together at this Society next time you are in town. Thanks for your friendship!

With love,
Maria

Marriage Sabbath

Dear Barb,

Michael and I just returned from a slightly early 25th wedding anniversary getaway at Lodge of the Four Seasons in the Ozarks. We had such a wonderful time! We ate some incredible food, danced in our room to Chicago’s Greatest Hits (courtesy of Mike’s cell phone), went parasailing, talked of our dreams, and in many ways were reawakened to the holy ground of marriage.

I have never forgotten the 8th grade Sunday School class where we talked about relationships, and you mentioned that it wasn’t too early to begin praying about marriage. I took your suggestion to heart. My “hope chest” became a “God knows when chest,” and whenever I thought about the future I made an effort to not just daydream but consciously trust God’s matchmaking, to cherish His perfect timely supply of everything my life needed.

Well, you know the next part of my story as well as anyone. At 20, I was a blushing bride to my high school sweetheart. Michael and I were so touched that, although you had been quite ill, your husband quietly snuck you in and out of the back of the church on the fringes of the ceremony so you could be at our wedding. Several friends have shared wedding stories with me recently. I don’t think I fully realized how blessed we were to stand there and exchange vows with such joy and confidence. There were no doubts, no fears, no glitches to the day. Yes, there were lots of tears, but they were tears of deep love and gratitude for each other, our God, and for all the friends and family supporting us that day.

Yesterday as Mike and I ate dinner (the best vegetable stir-fry and spinach salad ever), we watched preparations and photo-taking prior to a wedding being held in the Japanese Garden just beyond our dining table window. How relieved I was to finally see the bride’s furrowed brow give way to smiles and how my heart prayed Mary Baker Eddy’s words, “May Christ, Truth, be present at every bridal altar to turn the water into wine and to give to human life an inspiration by which man's spiritual and eternal existence may be discerned.”

I remembered this weekend that in many churches, marriage is considered a sacrament—something that helps us grow spiritually and become more aware of God’s presence in our lives. The Bible commands us to “Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.” It occurred to me that perhaps we also need to apply this command to the sacrament of marriage. Life for many married couples gets busy--first with careers, then with family, volunteer work, and other activities. For a variety of “reasons,” Mike and I have not done a good job of making time for “us” through the years. This weekend we decided that we need to remember to provide sabbath moments for our marriage, to take time to reflect on God’s presence in our relationship, to celebrate storms weathered and hearts strengthened, to help each other unearth and bring alive our hopes and desires. I decided to once again remember to pray regularly for our marriage, not just when there are bumps in the road. I want to acknowledge God’s smile in those most romantic “I love you” moments and with joyful expectancy put our future in His hands whenever I wonder what our “happily ever after” is going to look like.

As Michael held me in his arms this weekend, I felt like a young girl again—pure, childlike, and so safe. I didn’t feel old enough to be celebrating a silver anniversary. In many ways, we probably were more honeymoon-like than we were 25 years ago. Michael was my knight in shining armor. When our first hotel room smelled unbearably musty, he called and requested another room. (The room we were so graciously given in exchange was so much bigger and inviting). It was Mike’s idea to feed each other the dark-chocolate dipped strawberries (delicious!) gifted to us by the Lodge as we had fed each other wedding cake at our reception, and he insisted on kissing repeatedly as we dangled from our parasail 300 feet over Lake of the Ozarks. We slept–in, walked in the moonlight, and swam in the indoor/outdoor pool that had welcomed us as bride and groom on our first visit in December 1983.

I’m ready to make reservations for 2033. As to the exact date, “God knows when.”

Thank you for being such a dear friend and one of the best Sunday School teachers ever!

With much love,

Maria

"For Good"....

Yesterday I attended a memorial service for my brother Bill, who passed away on December 23rd. Below is a slightly edited letter I shared at his funeral. He was a web design/computer consultant who also loved photography. (His photos can be seen at http://photosofchicago.com. ) My heart is filled with admiration and love for his wife Mia and their 7 year-old daughter Lauren.


My Dear Brother,

If you have a minute today, pop-in on Heidi. She is attending a performance of “Wicked”--one of her favorite musicals. I'd like you to hear the song “For Good.” You are one of the people I think of when I hear the line, “Because I knew you, I have been changed for good....” and to me "for good" means in wonderful, holy ways.

I can’t begin to tell you how much my weekend with you a month ago changed me spiritually. Thank you for the amazing moments we shared. What a gift God gave us! (And thank you Mia, for giving me this time with your husband.) I’ve never spent much time in a hospital, let alone visiting someone in intensive care; but I hardly noticed the machines and tubes. What amazed me was your grace and dominion. You weren’t letting the frailness of your body govern your mind.

We talked about cell phone plans and computers; you remembered how old our Mac is. We looked up the definitions of “opinions” and “convictions.” We had fun discussing the Democratic presidential candidates, wondering which one Daddy would vote for if he were still here and surmising whether or not each candidate would perform on late night TV if given the chance--like Bill Clinton did on “Arsenio Hall.” Have you heard the Iowa Caucus results? Obama, Edwards, and Clinton—your preferences and ranking exactly.

You had spent a lot of your time alone in the hospital thinking deeply about spiritual things. While you hoped and expected to live, you had also realistically faced the possibility of death. You’d thought about father figures for Lauren and the possibility of Mia’s remarrying someday. You selflessly wanted love and happiness for your girls.

You weren’t afraid of death. I loved sitting at your bedside on Saturday sharing our reassurances that this “plane of existence” is just one chapter in a life that continues when the curtain has closed on the human scene. You laughed and decided that perhaps we are both “Christian Buddists.” While there were things you still wanted to do while here, I liked considering the possibility that someday (but perhaps not on Earth) we all get to be and experience all that our hearts purely and truly desire.

Thank you for letting me nurse you on Sunday afternoon--you were understandably ready to rest after such a full Saturday of talking. It’s not often that a little sister gets to feed orange jello to her big brother or massage his feet. Heidi recently took a “Frontiers of Faith” class where students had the opportunity to wash each other’s feet as Jesus did for his disciples. As you let me rub your toes and heels, I felt the Christ’s presence in our silent exchange of humility. You said you felt so much peace. Later while you slept, I hugged my laptop like a teddy bear and prayed to better understand and feel that immortality we’d talked about the day before; and in my prayers, I found the assurance that the beeping monitors really told only one side of the story. God was taking care of you. I could trust His eternal, day by day, care for all of us. I do think God strengthened your mind and body until all the human details were in place to make sure Mia and Lauren would be taken care of; and then, you were willing to let go of your physical body and take your wings--your spirit and mind no longer encumbered.

I wish you could send us some photos of heaven. So, start working on your web page, we’ll all want to see your pictures when we arrive.

I love you, 

Maria