I picked up The Inner Voice of Love by Henri Nouwen this morning, a gift from an old friend Stefan Wiltz. We both were in ministry together, working for Young Life at the time. We were young, in our late 20s and both interested in the Christian mystics, delving into writers we knew nothing about. And for so many of us in the late 90s, Nouwen was our guide to the spiritual life. Life in the Spirit, not just life in the Way of Jesus, meaning that we were coming to understand the energy, motivation and pace of life animated by the Spirit that gave way to the life of Jesus. I married Pete when I was 24 years old. I’ve known Pete for more than half of my life. My adult life was built beside, in partnership with him. And now I find myself entering into a season of learning to live in partnership with him in a very new way. The love is still very, very real and still quite familiar. And I am surrounded by the people and places and things that we fashioned together: our beautiful adult sons, their gentle and kind chosen partners, our two stunning grandchildren, our dear friends, our church, the vast pile of stringed instruments, the same coffee mugs and even the bedding that changed this year from a queen size bed to a hospital bed beside a twin. All of the “stuff” that made up our life is present. I’ve never lived alone. It seems embarrassing to admit something like that in the 21st century. I'm a professional woman, a spiritual guide in my community. I am strong and independent and I feel completely untethered . It's so disorienting. I would often tell Pete, “you are my home.” And so then, where is home for me? That’s the disorienting part. My family has created an oasis on my patio, moving all of my plants outside and starting up the fountain I made out of an old planter given by a woman in my church at the time of her death. My daughter in law to be bought me a wine colored lily full of blooms and it lives beside a bleeding heart, given by a colleague who lost her husband when she too was young.
God is not a person somewhere outside of us, something strong and sturdy to attach myself to. God is much more the air in which we live. How can I affix myself to the air? I cannot. And so there is the rub in my untethered state. I want something sturdy, like an unchanging God or a 6 foot tall man with salt and pepper hair who played a mean bass guitar and always welcomed me home the same way, every day. He turned around in his wheelchair and he said, “Beth’s home! Hi Beth!” I want that kind of welcome, that kind of home base.
Several years back, Pete and I were on vacation with my parents in Colorado. The three of us took a balloon ride without him because his mobility limitations kept him from being able to get into the basket. It was one of the first things I did without him, one of the first adventures I took without him.
The thing I remember most of the balloon ride was that when you are riding with the wind, you do not feel the wind. When you are truly untethered, you move completely with the wind, at the wind’s pace, with the wind’s direction. And it’s quiet. It’s so quiet inside the wind. Nouwen again is my spiritual guide, helping me understand the energy, motivation and pace of life animated by the Spirit. This untethered ride is the next adventure I take without Pete.
Carole Barrett
5/30/2017 01:45:51 pm
"I am the Lord. I change not." Picture Christopher Columbus proudly set down his claim, "I discovered the new world!." Well, I imagine that bit of heresy didn't set well with the Indians nearby, as they might have responded, "hey, I'm here already . . ." That is how it is when we discover something new to us about God. To us it's a magnificent revelation - WOW! This God may respond, "welcome, Beth. I am your home and I have always been your home. Rest in Me and my love for you."
Eileen
5/30/2017 03:24:10 pm
I always read your blogs, Beth, and look forward to them as I always learn something. Today was certainly no exception. Mourning those we love is a difficult business at best and one we really don't know how to do and it's so hard to learn as we go. I think I've been mourning for so much of my life I'm not sure how to stop but what you wrote definitely encouraged me to look at God in a very different way than I ever have. I have felt, as you so aptly put it, untethered for more years that I can even think about with no idea how to remedy and/or remove that draining feeling, or, maybe even get a break from it. Thinking of God the way you are sharing does give me a sense of more God around me than away in heaven just waiting for me to come and take some time to pray to Him and that is a very comforting feeling. Thank you for encouraging so many of us, in our own stages of loss and remembrance, to realize it's ok to stop and think and try to take those adventures that still await us in new and different ways.
Leslianne Braunstein
5/30/2017 04:54:24 pm
Beautiful. You touched my heart.
Barbara Heck
5/31/2017 12:07:21 pm
To find words for your experience that does not yet have words, to write your way toward God: this is the remarkable gift with which God unfailingly blesses you, and you us. Thank you, dear Beth. And prayers of loving support to you as you learn to ride the wind!
Merideth
5/31/2017 06:26:08 pm
Air, Light, Strength and Love for your journey. xxoo
Mark Hunter
6/1/2017 09:00:43 am
Winderful words. Comments are closed.
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