How do we hold our brokenness, the world's brokenness in a deeper sense of wholeness? A greater sense of love? It seems wherever I look lately, I am beginning to learn this lesson.
I sat in church this morning and listened to the children's message. There were about 30 children up at the front of the church and Ryan, the Minister to Youth and Families, was asking the children what peace meant. They said, "Calm, quiet, peace." Then he asked, what if all of the guns of the world were turned into playgrounds? And many of the children smiled, I smiled at the thought of that kind of world. I heard one child say something like, there is no way this will happen. My heart sunk. I caught the eye of a friend, I don't know if he knew it, but his eye twinkled. It twinkled with hope. And my heart filled. I could feel it filling with love. And I thought, once again, of my friend, Jesus. What a man, to hold that deep, deep love of God in a world with broken places. Wow. Staying in touch with God's big love in the smallness of life, this is becoming my life's path. And some days, it feels really damn hard.
I feel like I have been given this big, huge grace-filled gift. I know that I have been aware of this gift for years, especially since my rendezvous with cancer. But it was this summer, when I learned that there was a possibility that I could be sick, in my lungs, that the gift was placed right on my lap. It was wrapped in sparkling purple and silver paper, with a big, wide bow on top. And I just ripped it open. I ripped it open with my hands, my teeth, and sunk my whole being into it ever since. What was the gift? The gift is Life. It is Love. It is loving What Is. I think of how many times I have looked around and seen lack. Scarcity. Not enough. I am beginning to see What Is and I am loving it. No matter what it is. This gift that I sunk my teeth into has made me grateful just to be here. Grateful just to be in this body experiencing life. My soul can eat, drink, love, with my body. It makes me want to shout from the mountain top.
When I heard this child say he didn't think it was possible that swords could be turned into plowshares, I heard from within, Hold Love, Jenny. It is so easy to dive into the brokenness. Dive into disease. Into illness, into pain. It is so easy to begin defending against the brokenness. Or learn more about it. I am not called to avoid these things. I am called to experience them. And I am called to not allow them to take up permanent residence within me. Brokenness, scarcity, they have there place. They are doorways to wholeness. As with any emotion, they are not meant to take up full blown residency within us.
Yesterday, I shared time with 6 other women. We broke plates together. We stood in a circle as each woman took a plate and broke it. I have to tell you, when it was my turn. I was scared. I felt nervous. Nervous to hear brokenness. When I heard the woman before me break her plate, in my body, I could feel energy in the center of my heart rise and shatter through my arms. I decided when I broke my plate, I was going to bend my knees, plant my feet on the ground, feel my pelvis and root like a tree. The pelvis holds so much power. That I will save for another time. When I did break my plate, and I did feel my roots, it wasn't as scary, and my fear moved right through me. It didn't take up residence.
At the end of the service this morning, they ran out of communion bread. Can you believe it? I have never seen this happen in my church. I love how the universe teaches me. When the last piece was given, those in the front looked a bit nervous, many were laughing quietly, some were planning and trying to figure out how they could help. After the service, I spoke with senior pastor about how he felt and how he thought about handling it. He shared a beautiful thought. He said, what if we just held out our hands and said, "Body of Christ", to the next person in line. What if we modeled wholeness, even when we can't see it. Isn't that what communion with God is all about? As a human being, it is easy for me to see that there isn't any bread. But when my soul and body collide, my spirit and humanity embrace each other, I see. I see a loaf that can feed everyone. I see wholeness, and I see that emptiness is a part of it.
Let my prayer be this God, help me to see this beautiful abundant loaf of Life, available to us all, especially in the times when it seems to have run out. Help me to see it in myself and in my neighbor, whoever that may be. And help me to be faithful and courageous for our children, help me to see the hope and the loaf, even when it doesn't appear to be there. And thank you for the twinkling eyes, that help me to know that I am not alone. In deep gratitude I pray, Amen.
