Scootching along...

Without the contemplative dimension in our lives, we cannot be fully human. Mother Mary Clare


It had been a perfectly lovely Sabbath day. Worship with our church family, lunch, reading the Sunday paper, nap, international soccer game, lawn mowing of the walking path, brushing horses and donkeys, a trip to Barnardsville to check out the ten acre hay field we will be baling on Tuesday, visiting Vince and Tina who are still under the weather... The perfect end to a perfect day was sitting with our farm family watching the sunset, drinking cherry coolers and talking about the days of our lives. Jeannie will come home from the hospital Monday or Tuesday after her successful knee surgery. Sam, Leisa’s black lab, looked yearningly at our cat Wiley as a possible appetizer. Talk of helpers for the hay baling was counterpoint for the garden report from Tim. Gentle laughter at remembered bloopers, lovely sunset and moon rise, cicada song and bat flight, slow departures with hugs and pats...
Michael returned the phone call from our friend in Louisville as we sat in the swing on the front porch. Suddenly all the air was gone and I was gasping for breath. I was in a thin place where breath and life and death live next to God. Our friend has cancer and a new baby granddaughter at the same time. His treatment is going well and there is a good prognosis but the cancer was advanced. He has become one of the band of brothers who live with reality of their own death in a particular way. We sat for awhile, tasting our grief and tears, praying for him and his family. As I watched the fire flies bright points of light in the dark night sky, I imagined all our prayers for him as signal lights calling for God’s presence in his new life as grandfather and cancer patient.
I am reading Anne Lamott’s book Grace Eventually and one of her images has stuck in my mind. She describes our progress as Christians in motion terms... two steps forward, three steps back, marching forward triumphantly or scootching along on our bottoms... all are a part of our process. We do what we can as we can as best we can. And sometimes, scootching along is the best we can do. The important part of the process for me is not how I am moving but that I am paying attention as I move, a contemplative dimension as Mother Mary Clare says. The call from our friend last night was a reminder to savor, slow down, see the goodness that surrounds me and give thanks for all that has been, all that is and all that is to come. Whether I scootch or stride, live in health or sickness, am filled with joy or struggling with darkness, I remember to Whom I belong and give thanks. “Be still and know that I am God.” I am still and I know. Thanks be to God.